Thankfully, the raucous laughter helped to drown out any small noise they made.

Connor led them through, and around yet another corner swiftly and silently to the heavy, iron door that barred their way through the dungeon’s entrance.

Connor crouched down, his picks in hand, and waited.

“What’s the holdup?” asked Dael.

Connor glared at the man and put a finger to his lips.

He’d waited hours before attempting his escape. With any luck, Goran was fast asleep in his quarters by now. That should give him some plausible deniability.

That still left the guards in the next room, and the long stairwell leading up before he could escape.

Not a chance in the twelve hells was he going to let Dael run free. Goran would be in enough danger as it was.

Once he cleared the room, he could do something about Dael. First, he had to get past the guards inside… without killing them.

He picked the lock as quietly as possible. It opened with a soft click, and he knocked on the heavy iron door.

Footsteps approached, and a shadow appeared under the door.

Hopefully, the men would forgive him for this…

He turned the handle and slammed his weight into it. The door swung open and smashed into the guard on the other side, knocking him to the ground.

Connor charged past the first guard, straight at the only other guard in the room.

The guard swung his heavy club. Connor dodged, kicked the back of the guard’s knee, and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, locking him in a chokehold that his mail armor did nothing to prevent.

The guard struggled, and the two fell backward. Connor constricted the man as tightly as he dared.

Dael looked at them, and then rushed away and up the stairs.

“Slimy bastard,” Connor said.

The guards should catch him at the top, but now they’d know he was coming too!

The guard went limp in Connor’s arms. He released the chokehold and checked the guard’s breathing.

Yeah… he should be fine.

The other guard lay still on the ground with a bloody nose, and Connor checked the man’s pulse.

Neither of them would feel too fantastic, but they should recover soon. Now he had to move.

Two guards came around a corner inside the dungeon and saw Connor kneeling over the bleeding guard.

“Hey! What are you doing? Stop!” they yelled as they ran toward Connor.

Their shouts attracted others, and soon the entire dungeon echoed with hurried footsteps.

Connor slammed the iron door and locked it with his picks. He left the picks in the lock, twisted at an awkward angle.

The iron door rattled, something scraped inside the lock, and the picks bent even more.

“What’re you doing? Open the door!” shouted one of the guards.

“I can’t! He’s done something to the lock! The key won’t fit!” shouted another.

Connor turned to Goran’s desk and yanked the drawer hard. It didn’t even budge.

Damn it! He didn’t have time for this! He kicked the drawer, and the wood splintered. He kicked it again, and a chunk broke away.

He reached inside and pulled out his bottomless bag. The rest of the drawer held nothing but papers.

No sign of his rapier, or the knives he’d handed over… perhaps they were in the armory?

The guards pounded on the door and scratched around in the lock. His picks twisted again, but they wouldn’t hold the guards much longer.

He didn’t have time to look. He’d just have to make do with what he had. It was too bad. He loved that rapier.

He ran up the stairs.

He ran with his pouch still in hand and checked inside. It still held everything. His codex, potions, even the runed rod he’d taken earlier.

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“Thank the gods,” he muttered.

He reached inside and grabbed a sense-enhancing potion even as he climbed the stairs two at a time.

He pulled the cork and drank it down.

His senses expanded, overwhelming him. He stumbled but forced himself forward, and everything quickly snapped back into focus.

The iron door far below swung open and slammed into something with a meaty thud.

That poor bastard…

“Maybe I should’ve moved him out the way,” Connor muttered.

“You lot, take them to the infirmary. You, you, and you secure this position. The rest of you come with me!” barked a guard.

They started up the stairs behind him with heavy footfalls, and Connor picked up his pace.

He reached the top while they are still only a third of the way up the stairs. The door to the rest of the palace was already open, and the guards were missing.

Where the in the hells were they? How did Dael get through?

Prison guards shouted behind him, and palace guards shouted from somewhere ahead and to the right. It seemed Dael was keeping them occupied…

Connor went left, heading toward the manor. He focused on his senses as he ran, stopping and hiding every time he heard someone coming. Even so, he made good time and quickly entered the grounds near the manor.

The storm was still going strong, and the night was almost pitch black. Anyone else would probably struggle to see more than a foot away in this weather.

But, the feeble light of torches that stubbornly clung to life amid the downpour was enough for him to see by thanks to his potion.

He ran across the grounds through the driving rain, ignoring the chill soaking into his bones. Once The Chamberlain learned of his escape, the manor would be the first place he’d look.

He had to be fast.

He easily bypassed the miserable guards that marched through the rain. Even if he couldn’t see them, the pouring rain gave his heightened ears an almost constant stream of information.

The guards could stand utterly motionless, and he’d still hear the rain pinging off their armor.

He slowed down when he reached the manor and stepped inside with a knife at the ready, one of the ones he’d neglected to hand over.

Though time was of the essence, he couldn’t afford to be careless.

He tiptoed across the blood-soaked manor, checking every corner for guards The Chamberlian might’ve posted. The sickly sweet stench of blood and death was even stronger than before. But, he kept focused on his task.

He entered Victor’s office, pulled out one of the keys from his bag and inserted it into the invisible hole in the wall.

The door slid away, revealing the familiar secret passage, and a gust of fresh air washed over him.

Connor started down the stairs… afraid to hope he’d find Victor alive and well.

The workshop looked the same as the last time he’d been down here. Not so much as a single jar out of place.

The fighting hadn’t made it this far it seemed. Hopefully, that meant their alchemy remained a secret at least for now.

Connor frantically searched up and down the long aisles, around every corner, and under every table, but found no sign of Victor.

Either Victor had escaped to somewhere else, or they’d captured him.

He sighed and looked out over the rows of shelves. It had been a long shot anyway. How much longer did he have before Chamberlain Davison brought an army of guards to the manor? Time enough to grab a few things?

Potions could mean the difference between life and death… it was worth the risk.

He ran through the workshop, stuffing chalk, crucibles, vials, decanters, and all kinds of ingredients into his bottomless bag.

He even found a smaller, portable version of the flame devices embedded in the workbenches. The benches themselves were far too big for him to stuff in his bag. He wished he could just take the whole workshop with him.

He made extra sure to take everything he needed to make some basic potions. He also grabbed enough gold to make a lesser man’s heart explode with greed.

If only he had more time…

He took a few more things on his way out and cast a longing look at the workshop before running back up the stairs.

So much left behind…

The manor was still silent when he emerged from the workshop. He tiptoed over bodies and strained his ears. The last thing he needed was to be caught off guard by The Chamberlain.

He peeked through the front door. There was no army of guards, no Chamberlain, and nothing unusual… maybe he should’ve spent a little longer in the workshop? What if he’d missed something vital?

He shook his head. He’d spent long enough already. Every second he spent inside the palace was risky. Best to get out now.

He scanned everything around him with his enhanced senses as he sprinted out into the storm once more.

Ear-splitting thunder tore through the sky overhead, and up ahead men in plate armor ran out the palace, straight into the driving rain.

He ducked around them, invisible in the darkness, and they charged blindly past him.

“I want a perimeter around the manor! Nobody in or out! There’s a good bet he’ll come this way! Keep on your toes!” shouted a guard covered in more elegant armor, denoting him as a captain.

Connor ducked into the mausoleum as a bright flash of lightning lit up the sky. He wasted no time and headed down the stairs.

He opened the secret passage and entered the labyrinth. The door slid shut behind him, and darkness engulfed him.

He let out a heavy sigh. The hardest part was behind him now.

He fumbled along the wall for a torch and pulled on his magic. It resisted him, but he sparked the torch to life after a few tries. Bright light flared, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Damn those enhanced senses got way too intense. He blinked the spots out of his eyes and his vision adjusted to the torchlight. Once again, he saw impossibly far in the darkness, but now the torch didn’t blind him.

He rummaged around inside his bottomless bag and pulled out the runed rod he’d taken at the docks. He didn’t have his rapier, and it might be handy in a pinch. Hopefully, the magic wasn’t keyed to the individual, or something stupid.

Maybe Illyian had learned a bit more about them now…

He continued forward swiftly, but silently. There was a risk of the palace guards catching up to him down here, but the labyrinth was vast, and monsters were the greater danger down here.

When Victor got back, they’d have to see to having them kept in check better.

It was a long walk, and he kept alert the whole way.

A group of men walked down another tunnel not far from him. But, from what little he picked up of their conversation, they were just maintenance workers with a few guards along to make sure nothing ate them.

They probably didn’t even know the palace was after him now, but he avoided them just in case.

The walk gave him time to think, something he could have done without right now.

All he could think about was his uncle… the man who’d raised him for most of his life. What was happening to him right now? Was he safe? Was he alive? Was he being tortured right this minute?

He squeezed the runed rod in his hand so tight his knuckles turned white.

Whoever The Syndicate was… they’d pay for this.