A few more days passed, and while the scene of the battle around the mansion of the hero had finally been repaired, the watchfulness of the city itself never truly lessened. Still, nothing of any importance had been found, and that only proved to deepen Elena’s irritation.
“Clarkson!” She yelled, whipping off her helmet and dismounting her horse for the first time since their early morning start. “Did those useless shits in the guard find anything?”
Behind the armored form of the hero, Clarkson let out a sigh not unlike a long-suffering office worker having to deal with a difficult boss. “No ma’am. I’ve been keeping contact with their captain, and they haven’t even searched half of the slums so far. Not that I blame them,” he shrugged, “the place is one hell of a labyrinth, and those people have never been fond of the guard.”
Elena bit back a wrathful retort at the sadly expected response. Hell, even her men, as hardworking as they were, hadn’t found anything, and they had been canvassing the streets nearly every day from dawn to dusk. It was at least better than the city guards. According to what Clarkson had heard from the captain, each day more and more were showing up to work seemingly hungover. She could only pity the man. At least her group of soldiers replied to her when questioned.
“On another note,” Clarkson pointed out with a slightly hopeful tone, “reports have been coming in that the attacks on villages have lessoned as of lately. Aside from a wyvern sighting above the ruins of Belham, there hasn’t been much of interest on that side of things.”
“Really now? Those fuckers have got to be up to something,” Elena muttered. “with how many villages they’ve already hit, why stop now? Well, I suppose we can save that question for after we deal with the demons in the city.”
Clarkson opened his mouth with a resigned look, one that turned to surprise when the clamor of steel boots on cobblestone began to ring out on the street behind the group.
“Ah! There you are!” The cheerful captain of the guard cried out as he and his men rounded the corner. “Been lookin’ all over for you!” The captain got closer and closer, followed by five of his now-familiar armored guardsmen.
Elena turned around, masking the startled jump of her shoulders with a well-timed smile. “Vort, do you have any news?”
The captain in question halted with a lazy salute, and Elena’s eyebrow slightly rose to the sight of the guardsmen following him performing their own oddly clunky gestures of respect. “Not quite, miss hero, but I thought you might want to know anyways. The lads were able to search about a third of the slums, but to no avail. We also checked off the market and the library for good. No decent places to hide there that we could find.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Elena narrowed her eyes in frustration. “I. Asked. If. You. Had. News.” She ground out through her teeth. “What part of that is any sort of news that I care about?”
“Woah, woah, sorry miss hero,” Vort shouted with a tinge of panic in his voice, “I hadn’t finished yet. I talked to some of the boys on the walls, and they swear they’ve been seeing flashes of grey skin in the forest just out of town!”
Really now… Elena thought, first demons in the city, and now outside? Is it that group who assaulted the Bastille, or did that lone demon escape the city to the forest?
“Miss Elena, why don’t we let the lads rest? The two of us can check out a few other areas in the city, but we might just have to let the guards take over the search. They have more numbers than us, and they can send a runner if anything is found.” Clarkson gestured to the panting ranks of soldiers next to him, ignoring their weary protests that they could continue. “Besides, don’t the sages of old always say you can search better on a full stomach and a rested head?”
Elena let out a soft sigh of disappointment. She knew Clarkson was right, but it still nagged her that two heroes and most of the guards in the city still couldn’t find either of the bastards. “Fine. Men, lets get back to the barracks. And Vort? I know I don’t have much room to talk, but you might want to ask your guards to calm down on the drink.”
The captain bowed in acknowledgement, and Elena gave one last glance back as she mounted her horse and led her men back to the barracks they had commandeered. Captain Vort really has let discipline slide in his guards. Those fellows behind him barely even moved during our entire conversation, not even to blink. I can’t imagine how hungover they are.
Back near the guard captain, the five men who had accompanied him simply stood still, staring with unblinking eyes towards the hero and her soldiers, not even moving when a rat ran over one of their boots.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Deep in the archives break room, Tim carefully fit the last of the lids on his barrels of white phosphorus. They weren’t the perfect storage containers, but they would have to do. He could only hope that the phosphorus wouldn’t spontaneously ignite, or if it did, that someone would notice. After all, according to his research, even the fumes could kill a normal guy like him.
“Did you send off that message to your leader?” Tim questioned the rather bored-looking demon sitting on a chair near the door. “This stuff has a limited shelf life, so we can’t afford any changes to the schedule.”
Dimitre nodded his head. “Yes. One of your rats carried it out last night, and I received his reply just this morning. In five days, the great hero Mavier will show himself, and the plan will begin.”
“Right. I hope you mentioned to him the importance of not getting caught up in a fight until he gets to the Bastille.” At Dimitre’s nod, Tim turned around and looked towards his trusty pocket. “Philbert, my friend, have your rats been briefed on the sarin?”
A snout poked out of Tim’s pocket, and was swiftly met with a few cookie crumbs. “Yes, yes,” Philbert spoke through mouthfuls, “my friend, my good friend, has gathered some volunteers. Once you prepare this… pesticide and you create that rubbing alcohol, they can take care of the mixing process.”
“Perfect.” Tim smiled. With how heavily the books had stressed the danger of making that sarin nerve gas, he was worried if it would even be feasible to make. “Well, I figure we get it done in the next two days. If I remember correctly, Bert’s boys should be working on moving the gunpowder to the fortress. Once we get this finished and moved, we just have to wait for Dimitre’s friends to do their part.