“Very well, then.”
“You can’t be serious…” Margeth said. “This is a horrible plan!”
“Margeth,” Lucilla sighed. “I’m sorry, my Lady. I’m sure your bureaucratic strategy to overthrow the Emperor is absolutely brilliant, but horrible plans are what we’ve been doing for the past ten years. Believe me, we’ve become rather good at it. Theudis, release Alman and the Prince. Shayna, gather a strike team. We’re hitting the Citadel dungeons.”
The sloshing footsteps of the group echoed through the sewer. Fadan found it was remarkable how easy it had become for him to navigate the dark tunnels.
Arch-Duchess Margeth had stayed behind. The strike team, as Lucilla called it, was comprised of seven men and five women, all wearing simple studded jackets. However, none had brought swords. Instead, they had favored knives. The logic seemed obvious to Fadan. They weren’t planning on actually fighting, just killing, because if any of the guards saw them coming, the mission was already over.
“I have to apologize for Margeth,” Alman told Fadan. They were walking a few paces ahead of the group, and he was talking in a voice that was low enough that he wouldn’t be heard. “She was completely out of line.”
“Well,” Fadan replied, “you
did
tell me you were afraid of what the Rebellion might do if they found out about me.”
Alman sighed. “Yes, well… The truth is, we can’t afford to refuse anyone’s support. That has made the Rebellion into a… disparate group. For example, there are those, like Margeth, who envision the end of the Empire and a return to the city-states and kingdoms of old.”
“Which would make Margeth a Queen,” Fadan said. “No wonder she didn’t like your idea.”
“Exactly. But people like her are a minority. Unfortunately, that is because there are plenty of other factions.” He paused. “Which is why it would be so important for you to join us. You would give the Rebellion a purpose. A path. A leader for us to rally behind.”
“Alman…”
“I know, I know. I won’t insist, don’t worry. But I won’t lose hope either. Try not to hate me for that.”
“Hate you?” the Prince echoed. “Alman, whatever happens today, I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again.”
They exchanged a glance.
“Well,” Alman said, “I sincerely hope not.”
Fadan didn’t really have anything to reply to that, so instead he looked over his shoulder. “So, who’s she?” he asked, indicating Lucilla. The fire of her torch gleamed on her shaved head.
Alman looked back to confirm who the Prince meant. “Lucilla? Well, she’s un-landed nobility,” he replied. “Well beneath your notice. She’s been with the Rebellion even longer than I. The soldiers respect her deeply, which is why she’s one of the people in charge of the Augusta cell.”
“Soldiers?” Fadan asked. “You talk as if you have a standing army.”
Alman smiled. “That’s because we do. We’ve been fighting a guerrilla war for all these years, but that will change sooner or later. When it does, we’ll be ready.”
Fadan shook his head. “I don’t even need to ask to know you’ll be heavily outnumbered,” he said. “Even if you weren’t, it’s not any army that can defeat the Legions.”
“You’re right,” Alman agreed. “Our men are well trained, but probably not as well as a professional Legion. Which is just one more reason why we need you so badly.”
The Prince sent Alman an angry glare. “I thought you said you weren’t going to insist?”
Alman raised his arms in an apology. “You’re right. I’ll shut up.”
They arrived at a junction and Fadan stopped. When the rest of the group caught up with them, he said, “This is where we split. Keep going in this direction.” He aimed along the dark river of sludge. “Within a couple hundred feet, you will find a trap-door above your head in the upper wall. Wait there. I’ll open it from the other side.”
The Prince received a few nods, and Lucilla even wished him luck.
Hours had passed since Sabium had been arrested during their escape down at the Docks. Not only the morning but also the afternoon was long gone. At least it meant he would have the cover of night as he crawled out of the sewers, a maneuver he was now fairly experienced in.
An empty garden met him as he emerged onto the surface, and whispers of conversation reached him as the Prince carefully closed the manhole behind him so as not to make a sound.
A full moon glistened on the blocks of marble paving the streets. Around him, the silhouettes of towering estates displayed occasional lights shining from lonely windows. He caught the pleasant scent of burning pine coming from a nearby chimney. It reminded him of winter meals eaten in front of the warm fireplace in the great hall, and his stomach roared over the sound of the wind rustling through leaves.
The Prince swung around, getting his bearing in the night, and quickly discovered the way to the Legion’s headquarters. If he was lucky, infiltrating the dungeons wouldn’t be any harder than the last time. Lucilla had given him a brand new vial of Runium, which he had downed shortly after entering the sewers. He didn’t exactly have a wide variety of spells to resort to, but at least, he didn’t have to worry about running out of magic.
Squatting and keeping to the shadows, Fadan skirted the garden of the Strada estate. Beyond it, House Axia’s palace rose like a cliff. It was the only one in the Citadel without so much as a lawn around it. All the more shadow for Fadan to hide in – the shadow of the gigantic building itself.
As a contrast, the relatively small mansion sitting right next to it, which the up and coming House Novara had recently acquired, was surrounded by what could only be described as a thick forest of cedar and pine trees. It was the perfect shortcut to the Legion’s Headquarters.
Dead pine needles crunched beneath his feet, and Fadan slowed to almost a crawl, approaching the edge of the garden one careful foot after the other. As he did, his goal finally came into view.
A pair of Legionaries stood guard at the main gate while another pair circled the building in a steady, but slow march.
Fadan ran along the line of trees until he was at too much of an angle for the pair at the main gate to see him, then waited for the other two to circle behind the building.
Come on, come on…
The Legionaries disappeared behind the wall and Fadan raced out of his hiding place. Just as he cleared the tree line, one of his feet skidded on the slick surface of fallen leaves, sending him flat on his back with a
thud
.
All air abandoned his lungs, and Fadan wasn’t sure if that was due to the fall, or the explosion in his heart as it began to pound on his chest.
He sprang up like a frightened cat and squatted low. At the Legion’s Headquarters’ main gate, both guards still stood at attention, apparently oblivious of his presence.
Fire take me!
There was no point in hanging around. He jumped up and raced to the side wall of the blocky building. In his mind, he visualized the last time he had done this, remembering which door he had used to enter the building. They all looked the same, especially in the dark.
It was the third from left,
he remembered.
Yes, third from the left.
Tapping his power, Fadan jumped through the door and landed inside. He was happy to be greeted by a familiar sight. This was definitely where he had come in the last time.
Okay, almost there.
He slid across the corridors, trying to keep to every shadowed nook he found. Surprisingly, he didn’t bump into any patrols inside. Every hallway was empty, and there wasn’t the slightest sound to be heard.
His back to the wall, Fadan arrived at the corridor where the entrance to the dungeons stood. It was pitch black, with not a single light to guide him forward. It made no sense. Fadan remembered quite vividly the torch above the dungeon’s entrance. He had used it to trick the guard and slip past him.
One thing was sure, Fadan was not going to make any light.
His heart was pounded ever harder, and the Prince struggled to control and steady his breathing. For a moment, he considered checking his Transmogaphon. Was it malfunctioning?
He slithered across the wall, his hands feeling the way ahead. With every step, he expected a guard waiting for him in the dark.
The wall ended, and tapping his foot, Fadan felt the steps leading down to the dungeons. He turned the corner. Something glowed in the dark before him. Not a torch, not even an oil lamp, but moonlight, a sliver of it shining around the edge of the door. It was open. Just a tiny bit, but it was.
Something’s not right…
Fadan took a step back and considered running away. This felt too much like a trap.
I’m the Prince,
he thought, trying to shove the fear away.
They can’t hurt me.
He stepped towards the door, guided by the trim of moonlight, and pushed the other open. It creaked and Fadan jumped, but there was no one on the other side.
What the heck is going on here?
Everything in his body commanded him to turn back and flee, but he steeled himself and forced his feet to move ahead. It was too quiet. There was no sound at all. None of the wailing, coughing, or snoring he had heard the last time. It was almost as if…
Fadan’s eyes grew wide. He lunged forward and turned the corner to the first cellblock.
All jail doors were open. There was no one inside. Not a single prisoner.
What in the name of…?
“Kind of blows your mind, doesn’t it?”
Fadan caught such a fright he thought he would faint.
Twisting toward the voice, he managed to say, “Stay right there,” a fireball burning in his hand, somehow not nearly as hot as whatever he was feeling in his chest.
“Sorry,” the voice replied softly. It was a woman. She was standing at the entrance of the cellblock as if she had just trailed his steps. A gray cloak fell over her slim frame and long, silver hair covered her shoulders. “I stood here a while trying to figure out what to say so not to startle you.” She shrugged. “Concluded there was really no way to avoid it.”
“Wait…” Fadan said, looking closer at the woman in the flicker of moonlight. “You’re one of my mother’s maids.”
“Yep,” the woman confirmed. “That’s exactly what I am.”
“What in Ava’s mercy are you doing here?” Fadan asked. His heart felt like it had slowed down somewhat, but he still had his fireball burning at the ready.
“Looking for you,” she replied. “I would have waged three weeks of salary that you had been arrested today. You know, when you didn’t show up this morning?” She inspected one of the empty cells at her side. “They’re all gone. Today’s prisoners and the ones who were already here.” She returned her gaze to Fadan. “Including your brother’s father.”
“I can see that,” Fadan said. “Now how does a maid follow me into the dungeons?”
“Oh no,” the woman chuckled. “I didn’t follow you. Fabian’s spies assured me you were not among the prisoners. You weren’t back home either, so I figured you were probably planning one of your famous rescue missions. I was waiting for you.”
Fadan’s mouth moved, but produced no sound. This woman was no mere maid… Who was she then? How did she know all these things?
“I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “Your mother is in a bit of an emotional breakdown as we speak. I wouldn’t mind hauling you back to her.” She motioned towards Fadan’s fire ball. “I would, however, prefer not to get scorched in the process.”
“Stay right where you are,” Fadan warned. “You said Fabian’s spies knew I hadn’t been arrested. Does that mean they also know where the prisoners have been taken?”
The woman nodded and jerked her thumb towards somewhere at her back. “Transferred. They were taken aboard a prison barge hours ago. They’re probably halfway to Capra by now.”
“Goddess damn it!” Fadan punched a wall and the fireball in his hand exploded, making the woman jump, startled. “Listen,” he said, trying to regain some composure, “I don’t know who you are, or who you’re working for, but if you really
do
work for my mother, please just… just tell her I’m okay. Alright?”
“So… not coming with me, then?” She raised a finger. “Question. How do you plan on finding this prison barge? You’re not going to catch it before it reaches the ocean.”