Day 429 11:10 PM
“War is ninety percent information.”
― Napoleon Bonaparte
Hours have passed since anyone disturbed the royal bedchamber. I napped most of the day, but the hard, angular beams make for poor bedding. Saying I’m rested is a blatant lie, but I’m not as tired as I was this morning.
Next time I go about assassinating people in similar fashion, I should bring a hammock. God, I hope this is the last time I have to skulk around like this.
It would be nice if that were true. Unfortunately, I don’t think it is. I move to a sitting position, grab the beam beneath me, and spin down like an acrobat, stopping myself an inch above the nightstand before gently stepping on it.
Other than the slight rustle of my clothes, I’m perfectly silent. My rotten mind wanders, and I note that I’m standing on a nightstand at night. I doubt that’s how the piece of furniture got its name, but you can never tell with such things.
I dismiss the idle thought and step onto the fluffy carpet, odorless and free of narcotics. The castle’s servants are impressive, taking mere hours to remove all traces of the wild night in Vegac I left in my wake.
With a pillowcase full of cocaine hanging off my belt, I approach the door. The crack beneath reveals faint torchlight, indicating there are no guards in front. The handle opens easily and I let it slide ajar on its own. No reaction, no shouting. I open it all the way, blessing the caretakers in charge of keeping the hinges oiled, before peeking down the hall.
Not much to see. I’m at the top floor of a tower, the only light coming from a spiral staircase leading down. The draft makes the torch flicker in the dark, but the flame settles as soon as I close the door behind me.
The night remains quiet. I skulk across the wide landing, towards the stairs, and look down. Empty as far as the eye can see. I navigate the crooked steps with care, staying close to the inner wall until I spot them.
A pair of guards stand on a landing, guarding a closed door. I have no idea who is on the other side, but I do know they are important and that it is impossible to enter the room this way without causing an alarm. Left without a choice, I retreat to the king’s chamber and leave through the window.
A dozen guards are patrolling below, leaving but a minor window to escape without sounding the alarm. I am still certain I can make my escape, and that certainty gives me the courage to go for the next most important person in the castle.
Wait, I think to myself halfway out the window. That room is at the center of the tower, probably has no windows, and almost certainly belongs to a servant tending to the king.
This realization posed a logical question - how to find high priority targets?
I climb down the tower, circling towards the tiled roof to my right. I recall my wife’s teachings, and sit down to doff my superior boots as soon as I reach the roof. Barefooted, I head away from the king’s tower, hoping to find the kitchen or servants’ quarters.
I find both, and thankfully there’s light in the kitchen, meaning I don’t have to risk entering a potentially crowded communal bedroom for servants.
Mental note, have night guards pass by servants’ quarters from time to time, just in case.
I put my boots on and scale down to the open kitchen window. It’s big and close to the ceiling, used to ventilate the massive food factory. The only one inside is a youth, probably fifteen years old, scrubbing the giant cauldron.
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Perfect.
I move along the beams with great care as they are slick from grease. Once behind the boy, I climb down and approach him. He jerks as my hand clamps his mouth closed, and as my left arm squeezes both his arms against his body.
“I will move my hand from your mouth and close it around your throat. If you make a sound, you die, but if you cooperate with me, I will knock you out for an hour and you will wake up unharmed. Do you understand?”
The boy tries to nod, and I smile, he’s got more common sense in him than half the imperial army.
“Good boy.” I grab his neck, still pressing his arms immobile. “You will speak in a whisper. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” His answer is barely audible. He’s a bright kid, maybe I should try to give him a better chance after we conquer the castle. Assuming he survives.
“Good. Where do the knights sleep?”
“East wing, ground floor. Right next to the training yard.” He doesn’t take a moment to consider, probably fantasized about becoming a knight one day and learned everything he could about them.
“Do any ministers or advisors live in the castle?”
“No. I don’t know?” He corrected himself, his voice uncertain, but I’m guessing the answer really is no. He’s just not certain and doesn’t want to gamble his life on it.
That complicates things. If important people live in their own mansions with their own security and I have to break into each of their homes, while the guards are probably doubled or tripled in paranoia, I will get caught sooner or later.
I need to leave a message and intimidate them into surrendering. There are plenty of horses around, but I have a better idea. My plan will weaken the kingdom somewhat, but considering what has happened already, I have little choice.
“Do you know who is next in line to the throne?” I ask. According to my information, it should be the late king’s younger brother, then his deceased uncle, but I have no idea who’s alive at this point.
“Duke of Lazgord,” the youth says, and I feel my brows furrowing. I thought I knew the next five in line for the throne, but this duke wasn’t amongst them.
“Is everyone else dead?” I ask, and the boy whispers a frightened yes.
That changes things. The legitimate bloodline is gone, I accidentally killed the last survivor, who took care of the rest. The power void explains all the hustle and running today. Duke of Lazgord is probably some distant relative or represents a branch line from several generations ago. The nobles and influential citizens have no need to respect such a stretched claim to the throne. The only ones honor-bound to follow the tradition are the knights, and based on Sir Pain, talking reason with them won’t change their minds.
The silence stretches as I try to think of what to do next, and whether I should escape or push to meet the nobles. If I didn’t care about resetting, I would try talking with one, then, if it failed, I would try another, until I found my perfect traitor.
However, dying just because I can is not an option.
The young man in my hand tries to gulp.
“Sorry, son, I was thinking. You are safe.” Then I realize the boy is probably merely four years my junior, maybe less.
I can see my half-face, half-mask reflected in his terrified eyes, and I’m about to knock him out, when I think of another question he might know the answer to.
“Are the knights in their rooms tonight?”
He tries to shake his head, then speaks, “No. They are holding a vigil for their fallen king.”
“How many?”
“Seven knights and five squires.”
God, twelve of them. I can kill one without a sound, but even if I somehow pull it off without a sound and without being seen, eleven warriors sitting in the room will certainly notice the smell of blood.
“Where?” I think Blunt asked that question, since I’m no longer considering the notion of storming seven knights and their squires.
“In the Lord of Light’s chapel, in the west wing.”
Yeah, fat chance of that. But I do need to get rid of the knights somehow.
“Thank you for the information. I will put you to sleep for an hour or so. I would suggest you pretend you never saw me. The guards will torture you to death if they find out what kind of information you shared with me.” I glare into his eyes. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” He nods, his whole body shaking in my hands.
“Good boy,” I say as I tighten my grip on his neck, and he goes limp. I put him head-first into the overturned cauldron. If anyone comes in and finds him, they should think he had fallen asleep while working.
Now I have to figure out a way to eliminate the knights. An embryonic proto-plan is hatching in my mind, but I will have to go to the east wing and check out the knights’ quarters.
Damn. I assumed they each have their own room, but I didn’t ask to confirm. They are knights, after all.
I bite my lip, but my situation remains unchanged. I have to deal with the knights, and I will check out their quarters before proceeding or retreating.