Day 381, 9:30 PM
“Doubt is an uncomfortable condition, but certainty is a ridiculous one.”
― Voltaire
Having a purpose and a plan of action calmed me greatly. Vatten’s guards chased after me through the woods, trying to stop me from doing something obviously stupid and suicidal, but I quickly lost them in the gloom, long before I reached the wall. The experience helped me realize Godly does more than just give me stat bonuses.
I don’t think I possessed the ability to see this clearly in the dark in my past life, despite having a twenty-twenty vision until my untimely death. In fact, I believe humans aren’t meant to see this well with little to no light, nor hear as well as I do.
It could be a manifestation or a byproduct of high mental stats, maybe really high physique or something else. Whatever it is, my heightened senses allow me to hear the soldiers patrolling the wall above as I scale the rough stones in meager light.
I stop behind a merlon, waiting for the faint footsteps to disappear. The moonlight is weak, and whoever’s in charge of Karengord isn’t wasting lamp oil to illuminate every corner of the bastion. After running a city, I completely understand the decision-maker; randomly keeping all lights on all night is like chucking gold out the window, hoping you hit a passing enemy on the head.
Various random nervous monologues pass through my mind until, finally, the guards are out of earshot. I hop over the battlement, cross the allure in a low crouch, and scale down the wall into the dark street.
Where do I find a soldier? I would prefer to interrogate an actual enemy, rather than an “innocent” civilian, but if I fail to get my answers quickly, I will break into a random house and intimidate them for information.
Fortunately, there’s no need. Karengord’s lord has left plenty of open space within the walls, hoping for future expansion, and the army used the clearings as campsites.
Change of plans.
There’s only a dozen torches scattered around the small camp I stumbled upon, with enough room for two hundred men to sleep inside. I spot no guards, no patrols, which makes sense, the army is inside a fortified town, there’s nowhere for deserters to run, nor for enemies to attack from.
Still, I’m careful and approach the camp from the deepest shadow. Sneaking into the nearest tent is simplicity itself, and inside I find four men snoring the night away.
I break three necks and grip the throat of the lucky sod who gets to live longer. The man thrashes and tries to scream, but he can neither shake me, nor make a sound.
“Stop moving, or I kill you right now,” I whisper, and he doesn’t listen. I kill him, and go to the next tent.
The third tent has a soldier sensible enough to freeze when I tell him.
“I will ask you some simple questions. You will squeeze my forearm once for yes and twice for no. If you answer all my questions truthfully, I will tie you up and gag you. If you lie to me, you die. Do you understand?”
He squeezes my arm once.
“Good. Now, are all the allied lords sleeping in the baron Karen’s mansion.”
Two squeezes.
“Are most of them sleeping in the mansions?”
One squeeze.
“Is your lord sleeping in the mansion?”
One squeeze.
“Is the crown prince sleeping in the mansion?”
No squeezes. He’s confused, or considering lying to me.
“Answer the question or die. Is the crown prince sleeping in the mansion?”
Two squeezes.
“Are you a part of the crown prince’s army?” But before he hesitates, I already realize my question is unclear, so I clarify. “Is the crown prince personally a part of this army? Did you see him or his entourage?”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Two squeezes.
Son of a bitch! I was hoping the message was a lie, and that I could just climb the wall back without risking my neck. Then again, one soldier’s testimony changes nothing. I can only hope he’s lying to me.
“Is the professional royal army here? Not the conscripts, but real knights from Garagord.”
Two squeezes.
Is there anything else I can find out without letting him talk and risk him calling for help? Not really. Not now, when I can’t freely kill myself and just start over.
I scratch the back of my head, I want to curse and shout, but I have to stay quiet. The soldier trembles as the silence stretches, and I end his misery. His neck snaps, and I head into the next tent and the next and the next. Two tents were a person short, and one was completely empty. I can only hope they won’t be back until morning, or that they won’t notice they are surrounded by bodies.
Killing a hundred and fifty men and questioning a dozen of them took two hours. They all gave the same answers to similar questions. Starting from the third, I asked whether they knew where the crown prince was, but they had no clue.
So far, the story checks out, and I dearly wish it didn’t. So, what do I do now? Head for the mansion and risk someone sounding an alarm after spotting me, or do I clear the walls and let Vatten and his men in? The second plan will almost certainly result in an alarm, and Vatten probably did not believe me when I explained what I was about to do. If I gamble on letting him in and he’s not there, I’m screwed. But if I kill the leadership and get caught too early, I won’t get the chance to open the gate, or blow it up with my final breath.
I hate this, when I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, when I’ve got a world’s worth of choices, and all of them are bad. I leave the dead camp and head for the baron’s residence, mouthing silent curses.
The streets are empty. My guess is the citizens are keeping their wives and daughters away from the soldiers, bolting their doors and probably propping chairs and heavy furniture against them for good measure.
Suddenly, I hear cheers and the sounds of drunken revelry. The noise grows louder, and I see a tavern or brothel with lights on outside. I backtrack, take an alley, and give the place a wide berth. A building as noisy and conspicuous is bound to have a guard or an officer watching it from the darkness.
Ten minutes later, I reach the square outside the mansion. As expected, the square isn’t empty, it’s lined with tents with different banners fluttering in the faint wind.
Probably bodyguards, commanders, and officers. I conclude, and ask myself the logical question. Should I kill them as well?
I look around the square, but can’t see much, other than a pair of guards stationed in front of the main entrance to the estate and a clear path leading to them. Lack of information and the aversion towards redoing lives make my choices more difficult and more important at the same time. I can’t just test the waters without giving a damn about success. My death has to matter more than just killing a hundred-odd sleeping soldiers.
I circle around the camp, staying close to the stores and houses facing the square and half way I realize something.
These guys will be the first to reinforce those inside the mansion when they discover me. Killing them now saves me trouble later and opens up escape paths, despite the added risk.
With that thought, I sneak into the tents, and one by one, I break the soldiers’ necks, without waking them. Information I may gather from them might be valuable, and I consider interrogating one, but it’s not worth the risk.
The four tents closest to the gate are flying the royal purple with a golden bull.
If the crown prince was here, there would have been more tents flying the king’s colors.
I steer away from the tents within ten yards of the gate, afraid the guards might hear something. The snapping necks burst like thunder in my ears, but they probably aren’t that loud, since I haven’t drawn any attention yet.
Clearing the camp takes under two hours, but it’s already the dead of night.
It’s all right. I have made my escape likelier, and if I blow up the gate, Vatten will have an easy time conquering Karengord.
It should be around one or two in the morning. I’ve got plenty of dark hours left to pull everything off, assuming my luck holds out. I skulk back to the blackest patches at the edge of the square and reach the wall surrounding baron Karen’s garden.
I feel like a seasoned burglar as I hop up and lie down on the vines to observe the terrain.
Shit. There are two dozen tents inside, five lights are on in the mansion, but at least the tents are dark. God, do I waste an hour clearing the tents? Do I have enough time?
I look at the mansion for several long moments. Maybe some of them will go to sleep by the time I’m done?
Only one did, by the time I killed everyone. But rather than the night owls, the guards watching the mansion door prove to be more headache-inducing.
Kitchen?
I circle around the house, but baron Karen was smart enough to put guards in front of the kitchen. Four guards.
Was someone stealing food? I silently curse and check the side windows. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to open them quietly or break into the house without making a racket. My only shot is assassinating the guards at the front door and hoping nobody hears me. The alternative is guns blazing, slaughtering whoever I can, but then the option of opening the gates for Vatten is out of the question.
Is there anything better I can do? Any better moves? I check the upper windows, but they are all closed; the spring is still too chilly to leave a window open all night. I don’t have Batsy with me, I had to leave her behind, so I go and rummage through the tents and pick up a pair of maces and a bunch of swords and daggers. I have about thirty weapons on me. It’s not enough, nowhere nearly enough, but I can’t carry any more without hindering my mobility.
I guess this will have to do, and then I will redo into making better choices.