Chapter 41: 41: Siege (3)
The mountain itself was not humongous. If it was measured, it wouldn’t be over 25 metres tall with the castle perched on it.
At the moment Harley emerged from an open street, he was directly in front of the main camp of Knave’s knights. Many of them saw him and they reacted, but at that instant he wasn’t there anymore.
"Was I hallucinating just now? I swear I saw a guy in white over there."
"I saw him too!"
"You all have had too much to drink. Wait till King Knave finds out about this."
Unbeknownst to them, Harley had already looked for Vernox, who was on the street he had run out of.
"You saw me running. Why didn’t you stop me?" Harley asked, sheathing his sword.
Vernox was busy strapping the armour on himself. The signature symbol of the raven that was on the chest piece of the armour stood out to him.
"You’re one smart bastard." Harley smiled.
Soon, a lone figure walked through the shallow roads towards the camp. There was a short wooden barrier with an opening right ahead. Inside the barrier there were multitudes of buildings, but right in front were small towers which boasted a flag with the symbol of a raven.
"Hm?" Some of the knights noticed their fellow soldier walking towards them and two of them instinctively walked towards him.
Vernox met two knights at the entrance who held flags in their hands.
"Why are you here, soldier?" One of the knights asked, stomping the flag on the ground.
In that moment they felt something move past them, and the two of them turned, only to see nothing behind them.
"What the—?"
*Shaaaa!*
A blade sliced through the gap in their armour, cutting them down. Vernox moved forward, past the towers where there were probably archers.
"Intruder!" Some of the knights noticed Vernox and they began to come out.
Meanwhile, there was a figure who emerged from beyond the camp that circled the castle. Harley looked at Vernox who was fighting while being surrounded and he gritted his teeth, scaling up the slopes faster with four limbs.
The wind howled across the jagged slopes of the mountain, carrying with it the bite of a freezing, unnatural cold. Harley’s muscles burned as he scaled the final stretch of sheer rock, fingers digging into crevices worn smooth by centuries of storms. Far below, he could see that the reinforcements had arrived on time.
The princess and even his small squad had joined. But the camp went all around the mountain, so more and more knights would be there soon.
He sighed, looking up.
There it stood: the castle where the sorcerer ’Knave’ resided, perched defiantly on the mountain’s crown like a crown of black stone and iron spires.
Torchlight flickered from narrow windows and along the battlements, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Harley paused on a narrow ledge, breath steadying, and focused on his ability.
A subtle ripple spread in the air as he went invisible. He was invisible now, even to his own eyes; his body had faded into near-nothingness.
He continued upward, silent as a ghost. At the main gate ahead of him, two knights stood sentinel in gleaming plate armour, spears planted firmly, their breaths fogging in the cold mountain air. They saw nothing.
Harley reached a narrow window two stories up, gripped the stone sill, and hauled himself through the opening with practiced ease. His boots touched the cold flagstones of a dimly lit corridor inside. The air was warmer here, thick with the scent of burning pine, roasted meat from distant kitchens, and old stone.
The halls he currently stood in were nothing short of luxurious. There were crystals within lamps hanging on the walls, and even a chandelier hanging from above, having more than a dozen of such crystals.
Harley moved like smoke through the halls, mentally tracing the map he had memorized: he went through many corners, and climbed many stairs.
Footsteps echoed ahead—patrols. He pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath as two guards marched by, their lanterns swinging. They passed within arm’s reach, oblivious to his existence.
’I wonder what the limit of using this invisibility is.’ Harley thought, getting on the move again.
Deeper in, the corridors grew richer: velvet hangings, gilded sconces, and the faint sound of a harp drifting from somewhere above.
He smiled, knowing that his target was close. Today his objective was to kidnap a woman, the king’s daughter herself.
---
In the princess’s private solar, Lady Elara sat by the fire, her long auburn hair cascading over the shoulders of a deep green velvet gown. She was reading by candlelight, the pages of an old tome turning slowly under her delicate fingers. Two elite guards flanked the heavy oak door, tall and imposing in their crimson tabards, spears held at the ready. Their eyes scanned the outside of the room with a cold clarity.
A soft sound—like the whisper of wind through a crack—made one guard tilt his head.
Then it happened.
The first guard’s head simply... detached. It tumbled from his shoulders with a wet thunk, rolling across the rug as blood sprayed in a sudden arc. The second guard barely had time to open his mouth before a blurry shape streaked between them. His head followed the first, falling with a sickening thud while his body crumpled.
Elara shot to her feet, the book tumbling from her lap. "What—? Guards!"
The door burst open with a violent crack. A figure materialized out of thin air right in front of her. Harley locked eyes with her immediately.
"Don’t shout." He moved.
Before Elara could scream, Harley crossed the room in two strides. One gloved hand clamped firmly over her mouth, the other arm snaking around her waist in an iron grip. She struggled, nails digging into his forearm, muffled cries vibrating against his palm, but he was far stronger than any average human at this moment.
"Quiet, princess," he whispered harshly near her ear, voice low and rough from the climb. "You’re coming with me."
He hoisted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of grain despite her frantic kicking. With his free hand, he drew the sword from its sheath. The bodies of the two decapitated guards lay in a growing pool of crimson behind him.
Harley turned and moved swiftly back into the corridor, the princess’s muffled protests and the faint drip of blood the only sounds accompanying his retreat. The castle’s alarms had not yet sounded—but they would soon. He had what he came for.
As for what reason he did it, well, turns out this one has connections with the Godsworn.
