Though much of Farthan history is left unknown, a major question which I’ve dismissed has arisen intermittently: why are they to govern over the humans? Perhaps god itself is fate—perhaps they are fated to be subservient. Yet, that only creates a hole in our understanding.
— Study III of Tarkas, Third Verse
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Einwald rubbed the emerald jewel embedded upon the ring on his index finger. Currently, he was listening to Kallas’ less-than-impressive explanation on his present situation. Nodding, though in some disappointment, he interjected a few times in case there was anything left unclear.
Varna studied the man while he could. Although the chance of them meeting again was high, she found herself subconsciously getting a grasp on the unimpressive noble in front of her. Tall, but by no means attractive and rather lanky, he seemed more of a houseperson than anything else. His attire, of the same emerald green Marlyn soldier wore, was lined plenty with gold, and the light fur fitted near the buttons on his vest didn’t match too great for fashion. Did all Marlyn nobles dress this badly? She’d even thought, but since this was the only one she’d seen, there couldn’t be any accurate guesses.
Frankly, Varna thought the job didn’t suit him; she hadn’t known him long, but she was bound to find somebody far more suitable to handle the operations. So, when she witnessed the mutual trust Kallas had with Einwald, her interest was greatly piqued. He mentioned being here before…did Kallas deal his hands with the underworld? Or maybe he’s trying to lead a new life?
She realised then that there was a lot more to the empathetic soldier than she currently knew. Since the first night within the castle catacombs, all Varna had ever known Kallas for was his unwavering kindness. Milaine was no solved matter either. What exactly was it about them that made him tick? He’d never seen him that disappointed…angry even, toward the man he considered a longtime acquaintance.
His peculiar attachment toward Ellen was a mystery to her too. Did he see something in her that she didn’t? Or was there something else driving his particular care toward the young girl? And as far as she knew, the girl had seen magic. Humans were never meant to pursue the working of magic, let alone witness it. That was what she learned in the academy—and yet, the girl beside her, sleeping ever soundly, adamantly insists her mother had seen it.
“The woman beside you.”
Varna jumped.
“Is she your mistress?” Einwald asked, intrigued.
“What?” Kallas stared at him flabbergasted, before responding with a nervous chuckle. “No. No, you’re completely wrong. She’d just help with the operation, remember?”
“Huh. I was sure you’d have more than one. What about the scarf?” Einwald said, taking a sip from his glass. He’d poured himself another cup earlier.
Kallas frowned at him. “She gave it to me. And besides, you know I can’t.”
“Can't what?” Einwald asked.
“Keep myself to more than one.”
“That’s what people like you normally do.” Einwald explained. “Retreating back to your mistress or mistresses when you’re troubled. Normally how it goes in noble society.”
“You’re mistaking me for a noble, Einwald.” Kallas sighed, before turning, retreating his gaze toward the wooden desk as he trailed off. “Besides, you know me…I couldn’t…”
Einwald watched him sink into himself, a side of Kallas which Varna hadn’t seen until now. Sighing, Einwald stood up from his chair and grabbed his glass cup, pacing toward a nearby desk—it had a small water pitcher.
“Sorry. Insensitive of me.” He interjected. “Would you two like a cup?”
“No, it’s okay.” Kallas answered.
Varna also tried to decline, shaking her head. It seemed Einwald took it the wrong way, however, grabbing another glass and pouring water in it for Varna to drink. He set the cup in front of her. Then, sitting back down on the chair, he leaned back and faced the both of them—Ellen included, who was still sleeping—and changed the air.
“That’s enough pleasantries for today.” He stated. “Let’s talk about your prisonbreak. You need me to hide a group of children?”
“It’s not a prison break.” Kallas insisted.
“It’s a prison break.”
Kallas stared at him. “Well, okay. Yes, I need you to hide a group of children. The ones who’ve been ordered for execution.”
Einwald furrowed his brows. “And how are you going to do that? You know yourself that Marlyn isn’t lenient on criminals.”
“We’re planning on letting them escape through a man-made tunnel in the catacombs.” He explained, recalling the path he’d developed with Varna. “There’s an opening under the castle’s bridge. It connects to the castle’s catacombs, and if everything’s done correctly we can let the children escape from there.”
“Okay, but the city is large. Even if you manage to get them out of the castle, you’d still have to run through the Central Road, and once you do that, there’s the castle guards who keep watch day and night.”
Kallas held his chin. He hadn’t thought that far, and it only struck him now that using the execution as a means of escape was extremely risky. If they were to go through with it, a majority of the capital’s guards would be stationed in the capital plaza; but, at the same time, there would be an overwhelming crowd of people there to witness the execution. There were a good amount of pros to the plan, but the cons were still up in the air—and that made it all the more risky. And the North Gate was no joke. Even if they managed to sneak past the large number of guards in the plaza, the city’s gatekeepers posed a large threat. It hadn’t helped that capital security had risen because of the coup d’etat. In fact, there were almost four guards to each gate, and a solid number patrolling the borders.
“You clearly didn’t think this through.” Einwald sighed.
“No, wait.” Kallas raised his hand. “Grab me some paper, do you have any?”
Einwald raised an eyebrow handing him a fountain pen and paper. “I do. What’s your plan?”
Kallas dipped the pen in ink and drew a rough sketch of the capital city, farmland outskirts not included. Drawing the exit from the castle into the plaza, Kallas retraced the steps of his plan.
“Okay. Listen. Let’s say we manage to get the children out of the castle.” Kallas drew a line running through the castle into its main bridge, before circling the bridge and tapping on it with the pen. “That leaves us here, right before the entrance to the plaza.”
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The two listened intently, curious to see where Kallas’ train of thought would land them.
“From here there are several options, but the obvious ones are out of the question.” He said, crossing out the East and West Gates.
“Why?” Varna suddenly interjected, causing both Kallas and Einwald to raise their heads and face her. She hadn’t spoken once since she entered the room.
After a pause, Kallas responded. “Well, we don’t know where or when our prized merchant is, and I doubt that he would park himself on either gates. The Western Ward is an obvious no-go since that area is reserved for farmland, and the Eastern Ward likely won’t work since it’s under repair—the gates were damaged since the coup d’etat.”
Varna nodded.
“So Central Road’s the only option, but there’s going to be a surplus of soldiers among the crowd. The coup d’etat caused major tension within the capital, and I doubt that King Donovan would ignore that, even with the way he is now.”
“Right, which is why we’ll use that to our advantage.” Kallas nodded. He drew small stick figures around the plaza, one more prominent than the rest, and labelled the latter Brodovar. “The surplus of soldiers makes it easier for us to cause a distraction. And since I’ll likely be among their ranks, it’ll be easier to cause mayhem in the plaza. If I can create panic, however possible, the entire plaza will flare. It’s controlled chaos.”
“The children?” Varna asked. “How they escape?”
“That’s where you come in, Varna.” Kallas drew a gallow, before crossing it out and writing Varna’s name next to it. “By the time everybody’s panicking, you’ll be able to slip into the crowd and grab the children. Here you’ll run through the controlled chaos down the Central Road.
“Here’s the important bit though. You cannot use the actual road itself. It’s too risky, and when the plaza flares in panic, guards are going to come running from the gates down the road; so you’re going to have to navigate yourself through the alleyways. I hope you’re alright and familiar with tight spaces, because you’re gonna live in them for a while.”
Einwald stopped them, interjecting. He tapped the table as he spoke.
“The children are going to be shackled, aren’t they? And worse if they’re in a group, since they’re all going to be connected hand-to-hand and foot-to-toe. Last I checked, criminals set for execution could only be freed by one of the district’s Higher Orders.”
Kallas responded. “You’re right, which is why we’re not only going to be discussing the execution plans. We’re also going to figure out a way to nip those keys.”
“And how will you go about that?” Einwald questioned, only to be met with an immediate answer.
“Through you.”
“Hm?” Einwald frowned slightly. “Oh, I see. You want me to do the dirty work for you.”
“Exactly.” Kallas confirmed. “I’m sure you could grab us that key through illicit means. It’s what you’re best at.”
“I certainly could…if not for the fact that King Donovan began cracking down on us.”
Kallas raised an eyebrow, his hand placing down the fountain pen. “What do you mean?”
“Since the coup d’etat, our brilliant king has decided to oversee each and every transaction, be it trade or purchase through a Royal Official. They’re called ‘Tribunes’ now, and it doesn’t help that I’m the Minister of Finance, since they’ve been hounding my ass since the past month.”
Minister of Finance? Varna thought. That was certainly something she hadn’t expected.
“I don’t see how that affects us?” Kallas questioned. “Those are trades, and we’re doing nothing of the sort.”
“Except, I am.” Einwald pushed himself away from the desk, turning to face the wall as he leaned his chin on his hand. “My slave market operation is on the verge of being exposed, and doing any further suspicious actions could compromise our plan.”
Kallas grunted. “Crap. Without you, the key might as well be gone.”
The two sat there, sitting in silence as they thought to themselves. Kallas was bouncing his leg, and with every second that passed it seemed to grow increasingly violent, while Einwald had his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a bit, Kallas turned to face Varna, who was drinking from her glass.
“What do you think, Varna?”
She jumped again. With what little presence she had in the conversation, she hadn’t expected to be asked the question. She realised herself that her personality was quite the stark change. Part of her understood that it came from her limited understanding of language, but part of her also found it pathetic.
“Um.” She stammered. “Tea party?”
There, the two of them stared at her flabbergasted. Varna’s face grew red in shame, and she quickly averted her eyes.
“Nevermind.”
Way to go, me. Blew it bad, horrible even. She thought, her face growing ever hotter. The room stayed like that for a moment, before Einwald chuckled. It only served to embarrass her more, thinking it was for her.
“That’s a great idea.” He said. “What was your name again?”
Surprised, Varna turned back to answer his question, stuttering as her face was still red with shame. “Varna.”
“Well, Varna. That’s quite the splendid idea you’ve got there.”
“It’s great, actually.” Kallas reassured.
Varna looked down at the table. “How?”
“Well,” Einwald turned his chair yet again, “let’s say we snatch ourselves a meeting with one of the King’s Tribunes, not only are they away from their residence, but they’re also risking the value of their possessions—in particular, their keys and execution procedures.”
“If we can meet with a Tribune, not only can we manage to steal the keys, but we’ll also be able to figure out when the date, plan, and layout of the execution is in full. We’d be killing two birds with one stone. Isn’t that right?”
Varna nodded silently.
“That’s perfect!” Kallas exclaimed, almost too loudly, since Ellen shook slightly in his arms. “Ah, sorry, sorry.” He rubbed her back.
“If you can meet with one of the Tribunes under the guise of…I don’t know…increasing capital security with your funds, then Varna can slip into their residence and grab the blueprints we need. And in the meanwhile, you, Einwald, can take the keys for yourself.”
“We know that the Tribunes never leave the keys unattended, so maybe you could put them to sleep and take the keys for yourself? By the time that’s done, we’ll be long and gone, and he won’t even suspect a thing.”
“If he remembers?” Varna asked Kallas, worried.
“It’ll be fine.” He reassured, turning to Einwald. “You’ve got something for that, don’t you? I’ve seen you do it before.”
“I do.”
“There you have it.” Kallas smiled.
Varna let out a sigh of relief, before frowning again to bring up another topic. “The merchant? What time?”
“I don’t know.” Einwald said. “Couldn’t tell you even if I tried. The way the market runs is under complete secrecy; even I’m not sure when the merchant arrives, not until a few hours before they’re actually here. You’d be lucky if he arrived two days later than now—that luxury sometimes even isn’t prepared.”
Varna nodded, worried and nervous, finishing the rest of her glass in a pinch.
“The best I can tell you is where they’ll arrive.” Einwald grabbed the paper and pen, circling an inconspicuous building within the Capital Outskirts. “They’ll be around here. Where exactly? I’m not sure, but they’ll likely be somewhere underground.”
“Okay. Is that everything covered?” Kallas asked, being met with swift affirmation. “Then let me run the plans over quickly. Before we start the operation, we need to have the keys to unlock the shackles, and for that we need to deal with the Tribune. We went over it briefly, but I’m leaving that up to you two to figure out the rest. Meanwhile, I’ll be holding watch of the cell—I’ll watch out for anything related to the execution, but there’s not a lot I can do in your area of expertise.”
“When you’ve got everything in order, we’ll meet back here and discuss our next move.” Kallas lifted his finger. “But since we don’t know when they’ll go through with the execution, we have to be prepared. In case they proceed with it early, we need to make do with what we have—it's possible we might even kick and drag our feet bringing the children to safety. Them first, us later. Got it?”
They nodded in affirmation.
“Then we’re dismissed.”