It wasn’t often that Neer had to change her opinion about someone. Usually, a first impression was enough to determine whether they were a worthy person or not. If they weren’t, she ignored them, only cataloging their actions in case they became dangerous later on.
She had initially dismissed Damien’s little chit as a vapid girl with dreams of being a spy and a foolish crush on a viper in human form. But a few days later, having observed the girl manipulate her way through Treon’s seedy underbelly, Neer had to reassess her first impression.
Yes, she still harbored a hopeless attraction for a man married to the cause of elevating the Hero to godhood, and yes, she cringed and shied away from hard labor. Still, the way she ran rings around many experienced criminals and even convinced several key castle staff members to switch sides was something to behold.
Watching her from the shadows of a nearby alley under the castle’s curtain wall, using a [Cloak of Invisibility] crafted by Archmage Franklin, Neer couldn’t help but admire the girl.
“You do understand that it is all going to come out, right? Everything the Count ever did, everything we stood silent witnesses to. The Revolution is not known to be merciful and kind to those who engaged in slavery, and we won’t have another chance like this.” Eleanor pushed, stepping closer to the older maid, who, despite her higher rank, shrank back, intimidated.
Neer had seen the girl use good manners, coyly suggesting how much life would be better to a servant who was often the target of abuse, and now much more aggressive tactics. If vicar Damien hadn’t been who he was, she could have actually fit next to him.
“This is treason,” the woman whispered in shock, but she didn’t defend her employer. As far as Neer knew, this was supposed to be the second highest-ranking maid in the castle, lower only than the Head Maid, who was unshakably loyal and thus had to be circumvented.
“Is it treason to look out for our lives? You know the Count and his band of buffoons won’t help us. We have all seen that they are already preparing to abandon the city. Do you genuinely think they’ll take us along when space on their ships is limited? No, they’ll rely on the sailors until they reach Garva and buy new slaves. Even the Head Maid will be left here to languish, despite what she longs for.”
The best accusation is the truth. She knows she will be abandoned, no matter the decades of service she devoted to this household.
The old woman wavered for a moment longer before sighing, shoulders slumping in defeat. Neer allowed herself a fanged grin while Eleanor kept her expression placid, gracious in victory.
Then, she turned around and motioned with her head that it was okay to come out, and the three dozen men she had recruited to the Revolution came out of hiding, following her lead.
The old maid gasped at the sight and clutched her skirt as Neer stopped to loom over her. "Open the way to the castle," she demanded, her voice low and menacing.
The maid hesitated, glancing nervously between Neer and Eleanor. She had been around long enough to know there was no coming back from agreeing. The decision she was about to make would seal her fate.
With a final, resigned look at Eleanor, she nodded and moved to the servant's entrance. She placed her hand on a small, discreet panel, and with a soft glow, the door clicked open, revealing the dimly lit corridor leading into the heart of the castle.
"Thank you," Eleanor said softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. The maid's expression flickered with fear and relief as she stepped aside to let the revolutionaries pass, but she didn’t change her mind, which was all Neer cared about.
Now we just need to seize the count and hope Damien convinced the two codgers. He’s good, but they are the types to extract as many concessions as they can at the last second.
The corridor was damp and poorly maintained, showing just how relaxed the atmosphere had been and how much their subsequent losses had shocked everyone.
One would think they’d at least prepare for an evacuation after being under siege for days, but we had to hold their hands through it for things to start moving.
Inside the castle, the scene was one of chaotic urgency. Servants scurried about, their arms loaded with valuable items as they tried to follow the Count's increasingly frantic orders. Nervous tension loomed over everyone, and hurried footsteps echoed through the grand halls that had once hosted feasts and revelry.
Whenever Neer and her men were noticed, their presence caused the servants to stop and stare in stunned silence. The reality of the situation seemed to hit them all at once; the realization that the Revolution was not just an abstract threat outside but a tangible force that had breached the walls caused many to drop what they were holding in shock. The occasional guard they came across was dispatched off with ease, and they only needed to stop a few people from shouting for help, so stunned they were.
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As they navigated the maze of corridors, Neer caught snippets of conversations, the whispered fears of the servants who understood just how precarious their situation was. These were the people most likely to suffer the consequences of their master’s actions.
At the same time, bellowed commands echoed through the castle, easily recognizable as the Count’s. He directed maids to take only his favorite things, instructed them to leave behind anything that didn’t hold personal significance to him, and reminded everyone, even in this dark moment, that their worth was insignificant compared to his possessions.
Neer set her jaw and drew on her increasingly short well of patience. She was gonna need it all not to kill the twerp.
They found him in a luxurious sitting room, surrounded by a collection of opulent furnishings and priceless artifacts. Ronald Luster-Treon lounged on a velvet chaise, a glass of expensive wine in hand, while a Commodore stood nearby, listening with a pained expression as the Count complained about the fuss and inconvenience.
"Why must everything be so complicated?" He whined, taking a long sip of his wine. “I don’t understand why I must choose. Just leave a few more sailors behind and make room for my heirlooms! Surely, the Admiral will understand.”
The Commodore nodded stiffly, clearly uncomfortable with the dismissive attitude. "Yes, sir, I will relay your concerns, but we must hurry. The ships are being prepared as we speak, and we must leave before the day’s end if we want to catch a current fast enough to take us to sea.”
The Count waved a dismissive hand, sloshing wine over the rim of his glass. "Yes, yes, just make sure everything is packed properly. I don't want any of my things to be broken by clumsy, dirty sailors.”
It was at that moment that Neer and her men stepped into the room. The complaints died on the foppish noble’s lips as he turned to see them, his eyes widening in shock.
"What is the meaning of this?" he sputtered, his voice rising in panic. "Who are you? What are you doing here?” Then he turned to the commodore, gesturing wildly, “Arrest them! What are you waiting for?!”
The man looked at the assembled force for a long time and deliberately placed his hand on his sword’s pommel. “Are you willing to negotiate?” he asked grimly. He was supposed to be in on the plan, but things could always go south, and Neer didn’t begrudge him his caution.
Still, she’d not be intimidated. She stepped forward, almost daring him to take the sword out. "An arrangement has already been agreed upon," she reminded him with a wry grin. ’Twas a tale as old as time that soldiers were not informed of the actual plans by their superiors. He might actually not know, after all. There's no need for anyone to die uselessly.”
The Commodore paused, weighing his options. His gaze flickered to his charge, then back to Neer. The Count's increasing panic was evident, but the man’s expression remained impassive. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Very well. I'll not throw my life away on a lost cause.”
"Good choice. Men, secure the Count.”
Ronald, realizing his commands were being ignored, shrieked in indignation. "How dare you! Do you know who I am? You will all pay for this!" He reached for a gold and ruby-encrusted sword on the mantle in a smooth movement that reminded everyone he wasn’t actually a weakling, but Neer moved with lightning speed before he could unsheathe it.
Her fist, glowing with purple flames, hit his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. The magical impact rendered him unconscious instantly, and the flames dissipated as quickly as they had appeared. He wasn’t bad, but she was just too good.
“Ah, that feels so good.” She grinned, ignoring the commodore’s pursed lips.
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Hours later, the castle was under complete control of the Revolutionary forces despite the city below still being ignorant. This was possible only because the vast majority of the guards accepted the commodore’s command to stand down, and those few that didn’t were easily taken care of by the men Neer had brought along. After a long couple of hours during which she consolidated her grip and sent people to watch critical entrance points, she sat in the Count’s opulent office, enjoying the enchanted furniture more than she’d like to admit.
I might have to take this thing with me. I’m sure the Grand Marshal won’t begrudge me. I know he doesn’t like looting, but it’s not like anyone can eat this, and selling luxury items we can use to a foreign market feels like a waste.
She leaned back in the Count’s high-backed chair, surveying the room with satisfaction for a well-done mission. Her stature and behavior often led to people discounting her subterfuge abilities, but she could be surprisingly sneaky when she wanted to. Having captured a castle in the middle of an enemy city under siege should put any naysayer to rest.
A knock pulled her from her moment, and she called for the soldier outside to let the two people she last needed to convince in.
The door opened, and Archmage Laurentis and Guildmistress Manita entered.
“Let me be the first one to congratulate you on your takeover, my lady,” the old man said, taking a seat opposite her once she gestured for them to sit. “There seems to be nothing left to impede the plan.”
“The guards have been cooperative so far. They were shocked but didn’t make a big fuss once they realized how outnumbered they were. And the Rear Admiral has everything ready to set sail,” Manita added, giving her an appreciative look.
Neer let it slide, not feeling the need to reprimand a woman who was likely older than her grandmother and still looked like she was forty.
However, for all the good news the two brought, there was one thing that frustrated her. "I still don’t like that we had to let the Count go. He deserved to face justice here, not sail away to safety.”
Laurentis sighed, nodding in understanding. “I know, my lady. But sometimes, the needs of the many outweigh the need for personal satisfaction. If you had harmed the Count beyond what was strictly necessary,” and here he gave her a look to show he knew how much she had enjoyed punching the noble, “the City Watch would have been duty-bound to fight us to the last man. Their oaths would have compelled them, and the streets would have run red with blood.”
“It’s not often that cities fall without bloodshed. The people will see that you are not here to destroy but to build a better future. That will earn you far more loyalty than any battle ever could.” Manita’s words were reasonable, and Neer knew it was the correct stance. She just had a weakness when it came to poncy, arrogant nobles who thought they could get away with everything because of their birth.
“I understand. I will not jeopardize the operation to satisfy myself. The Grand Marshal’s orders take precedence over everything.” She responded, enjoying the way the two Masters squirmed. Yes, their support was irreplaceable to take the city without a long and bloody battle, but they had only come to terms with Damien and then her because they had witnessed what resulted from defiance.
Neer had no doubt both elders had plans upon plans in the work and probably contingencies on top of those to help the remaining loyalists stay hidden, but they had no idea what they were up against.
The Revolution would not be denied.