The next days passed in a blur during which Mahon prepared mentally for the secret operation with the cultists. He stayed at school the most he could, training with Zac and meditating in Nightmare.
Mahon doubted his ability to watch people die by the cultists’ hands while he did nothing to stop it. He talked with Zac about the worst scenarios, and what he would do if it were to happen.
Fada please, let it be just a stealing operation.
Standing in front of the house chosen for the meeting point, Mahon chased away his fears and doubts, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Shortly after, the veiled lady he had come to recognize opened the door and gestured for him to enter. He followed her to a small meeting room.
A few paintings adorned the walls of the otherwise naked piece. A single table had been placed in the middle of the room, and Belanor and a few others were already leaning on it with attention.
Belanor raised his head and nodded at Mahon’s arrival before indicating him to join them.
“Welcome, Mahon! Glad you came. Pay attention to the map here. It will be our stage tonight.”
As the old veteran continued his explanations, more and more people joined the room until they were all here. Belanor, Maïa, Mahon and thirteen other candidates. Belanor took the time for everyone to get up to date before going on with the strategy meeting.
He explained with great detail how they would proceed with the destruction of one of the no-dream pills shops of the city, and Mahon couldn’t repress a sigh of relief at the mission. At least they were not planning a murderous purge.
“So if I resume this,” Belanor concluded, “there will be three teams tonight. One in charge of the real mission, another in charge of distracting the guards, and the last one will protect the withdrawal of the first team. Do you have any questions?”
“What are the teams?” A man around four centuries old with a nasty scar on the cheek asked.
“I’ll come to it in a moment. Any other questions?” The little crowd shook their heads and Belanor pursued. “Good. Then for the teams, we’ll proceed like this. I want four volunteers to go with Maïa in the igniting team. The others will come with me for the distraction and backup.”
Some men and women raised their hands, and the veiled lady picked four among them. Mahon didn’t raise his hand. The more he could avoid direct action against the city, the better he felt. Burning an alchemy shop was something he didn’t intend to do if he could avoid it.
To the ten people that stayed with Belanor, the old veteran pointed to them one after the other and attributed a role to each.
“Distraction. Distraction. Backup. Distraction. Backup.” He pointed to Mahon. “Backup.”
Mahon hid his grimace with a nod. Seems like I’ll be involved either way…
The teams geared up with weapons and disguise before leaving the building in small groups. The lasts to leave were Mahon, the guy with the nasty scar, who came with the name of Rizzo, and Belanor. The trio were dressed in long capes and healthy commoner clothes.
They walked in silence for long minutes before they arrived at their destination. “Keep your attention on me, boys. Again, we’re helping the distracting team make some noises, but we’ll leave as soon as we can to back up the igniting team’s escape. Now, let’s do this.”
Belanor pushed open the door of the tavern with a thunderous laugh. “Come, brothers, I’ll tell you another one.” He continued in a loud voice.
Rizzo and Mahon in tow, the veteran walked to an empty table and ordered three beers from the passing waiter.
Mahon glanced around him and noticed the other candidates already drinking alone or in small groups at the other tables. The tavern was almost full, and there were at least a hundred people chattering loudly while drinking unbridled.
Some tables had more than their fair share of empty drinks scattered among cards, coins and other games. The customers were in different states of drunkenness, from already rolling under the table to excited and yelling. Mahon held back a sigh as he finished his assessment of the current situation.
No deaths planned here, but there will be a lot of broken bones.
The minutes passed ever so slowly while Mahon barely listened to Belanor’s acting. He noticed the worried looks exchanged between the different candidates as the tension built up. Mahon didn’t know how Belanor knew when it was time to start the operation, but the man didn’t hesitate a single instant before standing up.
“Let’s go play a bit!” He ordered.
Mahon and Rizzo followed him to a playing table where people were already in the middle of a game, and all the seats around the table were already taken.
“I want to play.” The mustached veteran simply said in the face of one of the participants, poking him on the shoulder.
“Fuck off, I’m already playing.” The man barely looked at Belanor before focusing back on his game.
Expecting no less, Belanor punched the man in the face in a swift and powerful move. The man fell on the floor, unconscious, and Belanor sat in his place like it was the most normal thing to do.
An eerie silence fell on the tavern as every head turned to Belanor. From the corner of his eyes, Mahon noticed the waiter retreating behind the counter with quick steps. And then the silence broke up in a loud explosion of screams and shouts.
The man sitting to the left of Belanor tried to punch him, but the old veteran dodged and punched back. In the next second, the other men around the table jolted to their feet and joined the fight. The candidates spread among the room also stood up and added to the mess. Soon, the situation deteriorated to a full scale battle with at least fifty contestants.
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Mahon had clearly been labeled as Belanor’s friend, and he found himself in the middle of the brawl in an instant. He did his utmost to dodge any attempts aimed at him while returning the minimum of hits to look credible. When he punched, he tried to limit the severity of the damage he caused.
The battle continued for long minutes, during which more than ten people dropped unconscious before the sound of whistles could be heard from outside the tavern. Shortly after, city guards joined the fight and started to neutralize the drunkards.
Alas, it was exactly what Belanor had planned, and the candidates swiftly moved to impede the guards. They acted like the other drunk people, except they specifically targeted the guards and tried to knock them out while seemingly fighting everyone.
The city guards realized they couldn’t control the brawl with so few of them, and they started to whistle at the top of their lungs to attract even more guards to help.
Soon, a constant flow of city guards arrived at the tavern and joined the fight. In the meantime, Belanor signaled the backup team for retreat, and five cultists, including Mahon, left the scene in tow of the old veteran. It was such a mess between the drunkards and the cultist distraction team that the guards didn’t pay them any attention, and they managed to escape through a window without too much problem.
They rushed to their nearby weapons hideout and equipped themselves with both hasty and nervous moves. They wore green capes with hoods symbolizing the Fada cult and hiding most of their features.
“Part one of the plan went well. Let’s move to part two”. Belanor said before running towards their next target. The four candidates followed him without hesitation, and the man led them with ease through the maze of little streets. They ran for a good fifteen minutes before they witnessed a dark smoke escaping above the buildings. The targeted shop was probably already on fire a few streets ahead.
Besides Belanor, Mahon was the only one who seemed unaffected by the mad course, and the other candidates were all in different states of ragged breaths and tired legs. As they approached the crime scene, Belanor switched to a less demanding pace and unsheathed his sword.
“Now is the time to show your worth, my friends. If we can help our comrades back to safety, we’ve won big. Give everything you’ve got.”
Before they got to the shop’s location, the little group witnessed the veiled lady, accompanied by three other people, rushing to them. They were missing one member, but it wasn’t the moment to delve into this as a few meters behind, a dozen city guards were already on the chase.
“Twelve guards. That’s good.” The old veteran said before sprinting towards the group, his own troop in tow.
The veiled lady passed by them without even sparring a look and continued into the streets behind. They hadn’t more time to think before they engaged the city guards.
Belanor did not directly join the fight, instead helping a limping cultist to escape. Mahon found himself to be the first to strike at the guards. He tried to draw their attention to him with wide, dangerous looking swipes.
He managed to attract half of the guards’ swords and danced between them while poking at the other half for even more attention. He ducked under a slow, piercing attack and warded off yet another futile swipe to his head.
I need to disable them without permanent damage.
He elbowed the face of a guard that got too close and jolted another one to the ground with a shoulder charge, breaking away from the guards’ encirclement. The other candidates were much less skilled with the sword than he was, but they still managed to win their fights without killing their opponents.
Belanor had warned them about killing city guards. It should be done only in the most desperate situations because that would draw their anger and they’ll never stop pursuing them. If they could disable them instead, it was best. A cut arm was not as infuriating as a beheaded comrade, he had said.
The dozen city guards were mostly repelled and dealt with because of Mahon’s fighting prowess, and the cultists started to retreat back to the maze of streets where they knew they could easily lose their pursuers.
City guards kept coming to them, but their numbers never exceeded a dozen, and the backup group managed to repel them every time.
They executed the plan perfectly until one of the candidates slipped and got pierced in the stomach. In a last reflex, he struck back and killed the guard. The next second, he was hit by three different swords and died as well.
The guards blew in their whistles with renewed energy, and since it was also probably around the time their distraction at the tavern reached its end, a massive influx of guards started to chase after them.
The cultists exchanged a look with Belanor, and the man assessed the situation with a single look.
“Stop fighting and run for your life!” He shouted.
The candidates didn’t delay and escaped to the numerous nearby streets. Alas, free from the skirmishes, the city guards also started to run, and the limping man helped by Belanor couldn’t sustain such a pace for long.
Mahon witnessed the distance between them shrinking with each second until the guards were at his heels. He saw the desperate look in Belanor's eyes as the veteran considered whether to abandon the man or not.
He recognized the spark of anger and saw the decision process printed on Belanor’s face. The veteran pushed the limping man forward and stopped to face the guards.
Not good. He will kill them all if he goes on a rampage.
Killing was easier to perform than stunning or disabling, and the cultist had no motive to hold back now that a guard already died. Mahon hadn’t more time to think as well, and his Nightmare reflexes kicked up again. He was no man to leave someone behind on the battlefield. Although the limping man was a cultist, at this instant he was just a weak man trying to escape with his life. And there were also the city guards, standing no chance in front of a Flow-capable Belanor.
For no particular reason, Mahon thought about that time when the Amentiae’s general crushed his 28-men unit while he was powerless. He didn’t manage to chase the image of Belanor doing the same with the approaching city guards.
Mahon stopped beside the old veteran and turned to face the guards. Belanor threw him an interrogative look.
“I can handle them for a bit, boy. Run to safety.”
“I know you can. But you’ll have to kill them all, and it’ll severely decrease our future chance of success. Together, we can disable them long enough.”
Belanor watched him with calculative eyes for a split second before the guards reached them.
Mahon jumped into the fray while keeping a worried eye on Belanor.
If he tries to kill them, I’ll stop him right now. Fuck the infiltration.
Belanor breathed calmly and entered the Flow. He dodged the incoming strikes aimed at him and blocked the ones he couldn’t dodge.
Mahon kicked a guard in the stomach, and the poor guy rolled in pain on the floor. He pushed his way through the guards to close the distance with Belanor.
I’ll have to Flow, if I want to stop him.
Belanor countered an attack with his sword and counterattacked in the same swift motion. His sword approached the guard’s head without even letting him a chance to block.
Mahon tensed and breathed in, ready to dive in the Flow.
At the last moment, Belanor oriented his weapon such that the flat blade hit the man’s head, stunning him instead. The guard went limp and collapsed to the floor. Alive.
Mahon stopped his starting Flow and joined Belanor to get rid of the remaining soldiers with a sigh of relief.