The line moved interminably slowly. There was certainly something at the gate holding people up, and as they drew closer, it became clearer to Leon and his companions that it wasn’t some kind of accident—more people, whether on foot or in carriage arks, were being turned away from the gate than were being let in. Far more…
As they watched, a beautiful white and gold carriage ark that looked more expensive than most even well-to-do commoners could afford was turned away, despite how important whoever was within had to be. Leon asked the question everyone was thinking. “You had a man here commanding the gatehouse’s garrison, right? How certain are you that he’ll let us through?”
“Niam’s reliable,” Regulus said.
“I would trust him a good ways,” Justin added. “Not entirely, but he’ll let us through. He will…”
Leon frowned deeply, the answer not striking a pleasant chord within him. As he examined the gatehouse further, he noted the unpleasant fact that heads were rotting on spikes over the battlements. He’d been tempted to do similar in Artorion for those convicted of treason, but thankfully, such treason was rare enough that he’d always been talked out of it before following through—not that he thought he would, given the sheer spite that would’ve involved. He preferred to be done when the head was parted from the shoulders, and mounting the heads on spikes was just excessive.
“Is that common?” he asked after pointing out the rotting, fly-covered heads. Most were in such a state of decomposition that it was impossible to tell from what remained who the heads had belonged to in life.
“Yes,” Regulus answered without hesitation. “Most gates that see any traffic have something similar.”
“Doesn’t speak well for his city that so many have to lose their heads,” Cassandra said.
“Kamran intends for it to be a warning to would-be troublemakers,” Regulus said.
“That’s obvious,” Cassandra replied. “But it seems shameful that he has so many troublemakers in his city that their heads can be mounted over so many gates. I wouldn’t want to advertise such strife in Artorion…”
“Such brutality,” Leon added, “even if necessary, shouldn’t be made a spectacle.”
The carriage fell into silence as it moved forward, falling into the shadow of the gatehouse. They were close enough now that a mortal could have seen the gleaming Aurichalcum banding the enormous wooden gates together—close enough now that a handful of guards came walking over with one banging his fist against the carriage.
“Open up!” the guard shouted.
The guard remained closer to the front of the carriage where the driver’s compartment was, but Regulus gave everyone in the passenger compartment a look, reminding them all to remain silent and let him handle it, and then activated a runic circle that had a wall panel slide open, acting like a window.
Without delay, the guard came over to the now open window and practically stuck his head into the compartment. Leon saw the man’s eyes flicker over all five of them, counting them up and examining their faces. He was grateful that everyone but Regulus was magically disguised.
With his ninth-tier aura spilling into the compartment, the guard growled, “What’s your business in Torn Sky?”
“We’re from Antiochus,” Regulus said as he gestured to the others in the compartment. “We’re bringing a tribute from our humble city to our mighty overlord for the Fallen Raptor Festival.”
The guard scrutinized Regulus closely, a light frown crossing his face. “What kind of tribute?” he demanded.
“Is it the business of a gate guard to know the gifts brought to Lord Kamran?” Regulus replied.
“It’s my job to prevent contraband from entering the city,” the guard shot back. “Tribute or not, goods, slaves, and monies must be declared upon entrance to the city.”
“Our tribute is storm crystal,” Regulus stated. “No slaves, no other goods.”
“Bring out your crystal for examination,” the guard stated. “And have your identification ready.”
Regulus smiled thinly. “Might I know your name, guardsman?”
“Captain Rhen,” the guard responded. “I command the detachment holding the gate.”
“Captain?” Regulus asked. “Such a high rank down here? Where is Captain Niam?”
Rhen chuckled darkly. “If you want to know where he is, get a good look up there…” He pointed to the rotting heads atop the gatehouse. “Barely been a day, but you could hardly recognize him now…”
A look of horror crossed Regulus’ face. “How? Why?”
“An ax, and he was a traitor,” Rhen spat. “Don’t bother taking out your tribute, ‘friend’. Turn around; you’re not entering the city.”
Leon’s heart sank as Regulus immediately tried another tack. “Captain, please, we only want to—”
“No,” Rhen interrupted. “Turn around. Get the fuck out of this line. I’ll be sending word to the other gates, too. You’re not getting in.”
“Captain, a friend of ours is waiting for us within the city—Commander Tion Bey. Do you know him?”
Rhen paused, glanced toward the half-open gate. “I don’t see Commander Bey. You have five seconds to turn around, or I’ll have the lot of you join your traitor friend on top of the gatehouse.”
The guard turned away from the window, but he remained close enough to watch their carriage ark. He held up his hand, his fingers extended, and began curling them one by one until Regulus scowled, closed the window, and activated another enchantment to order the driver to turn around. Rhen watched them slowly disentangle themselves from the line and push back into the suburb outside the gate, the carriage ark with the rest of their party following close behind.
“Niam…” Regulus whispered dejectedly.
“He was a good man,” Justin said. “But without him, we’re left with a problem…”
“Quite a big one,” Cassandra added. “I didn’t get the impression from either of you that this gatehouse was going to be so heavily guarded…”
“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Regulus said. “We’re in the heart of Kamran’s domain; the walls and gatehouses are meant to control traffic, not keep people out…”
“Of all the parts of our plan that could go wrong,” Justin whispered, “this wasn’t the part I was expecting. Something must have happened for security to be so particular.”
“No one else is getting in,” Valeria said, the dull brown eyes of her disguised face narrowing in thought.
“It’s good, then, that we went over those plans you got from the architect,” Leon said, trying and failing not to sound too smug about insisting on having contingencies.
“Then we should—” Regulus began, but Valeria cut him off.
“The sally port in this suburb’s third riding is the closest alternate entrance. There’s a supposedly secret service tunnel for the underground wards that should get us into the city without anyone noticing.”
Justin and Regulus both looked primed to argue, but Leon cut them off. “No manned defenses, according to what we were shown, but we’re going to have to get through some complex security wards.”
“We could try other gates before resorting to that,” Regulus offered hurriedly. “Rhen is busy, he won’t be messaging the other gatehouses yet, if at all…”
Leon projected his magic senses, his disguise wavering visibly for several seconds before resolving again. He was still able to sense that the other gatehouses were equally backed up.
“That will take too long,” he said. “Hours. No one’s getting into the city—or so few that it might as well be no one.”
“Why are they so locked down?” Justin wondered aloud. “They shouldn’t be this strict…”
“I’d rather try the sally port than try another gatehouse,” Leon stated, ignoring Justin’s question for the moment.
Disappointment radiated from Regulus more thickly than his aura. “I do not know how far I can accompany you, then. I am neither warrior nor enchanter, and I was already planning on either waiting in the safehouse or returning to Antiochus after meeting with Tion Bey.”
“Leave us by the entrance,” Leon said. “Sally ports are designed to be subtle to avoid discovery.”
“Or we could go our own way now,” Valeria said. “These arks will be too eye-catching in the streets.”
Leon stole a glance outside, noting that the suburb wasn’t nearly as densely packed as Torn Sky itself, but there were still plenty of people around getting ready for the festival, and many were watching them as they made their way away from the line into the gatehouse. Other carriages and carriage arks were doing the same, but Regulus’ transports were a fair sight more luxurious than nearly any others.
“I like it,” Cassandra added boisterously. “Getting in through the gatehouses always seemed too easy, anyway. We know where to go once we’re in the city, so there’s no need for you to come with us.” She smiled humorlessly at Justin. “And we have you.”
“You do have me…” Justin whispered, his eyes shifting from Cassandra to Regulus. “My friend, thank you for your aid thus far. I will contact you when we get away.”
Regulus opened and closed his mouth several times, words seemingly needing several long seconds before they would form on his tongue. Leon imagined lots of dark jokes were occurring to the man, but instead of jests, he simply said, “I will wait for you to reach out. Good luck.”
Several minutes later, the carriage arks pulled over, Leon and his companions exited, met up with Nestor, Alcander, Daryun, and Zhang from the other carriage, and entered the suburb proper. Regulus watched them go for a few seconds and then ordered his driver to take him back to the arkpads, and then from there, back to Antiochus.
Leon’s party was now on its own, at least until they got into the city. If they got into the city…
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The sally port in the city’s third riding was hidden, as it ought to be. A secret back exit for anyone within Torn Sky to sally out and attack anyone trying to besiege Torn Sky, and, if the city plans could be believed, a secret entrance within a secret exit to reach the city’s wards.
It seemed arrogant to the point of lunacy to have the port at all, but Leon knew it wasn’t nearly so simple as just a straight tunnel leading into Torn Sky.
The first line of defense for the sally port was secrecy—if no one knew it was there, then it was as secure as it could possibly be. The sally port was located in the basement of a small manor that itself was fairly well-warded, but otherwise, there wasn’t anything about the manor that suggested something like a secret tunnel into the city could be found beneath it.
“How should we play this?” Alcander asked as everyone gathered close to the manor, none of them recognizable through their magical guises. “I see only two guards on the front gate. We could take them even without magic.”
“Try not to think like a barbarian,” Nestor stated acidically.
“It’s not barbarous to suggest the most straightforward option,” Alcander said.
“Yes it is,” Nestor shot back. “Especially when these wards are so easily subverted.”
Alcander scoffed, but Leon added, “I would’ve struggled with this place before we left the Bull Kingdom. Hells, probably even before we left the Ilian Empire. Now, though, I agree with Nestor. We’ll slip into this place with no one the wiser.” Leon paused and glared at his companions. “Assuming, of course, that we remain quiet.”
Cassandra audibly scoffed. “Do you think after all these years that we’re going to crash through that place like spooked horses in a glassware shop? This will be easy even without invisibility.”
Leon wanted to argue with her and to insist that she take this seriously, but he simply couldn’t when he agreed with her so completely.
“Let’s go, then,” he said, leading his party down an alley.
The manor itself was large enough to be completely fenced in, and the wards reinforced that wrought iron fence and prevented anyone from leaping over it. Alarms, wards against magic senses, and preventative wards to disrupt invisibility were all glaringly obvious to Leon, while more subtle enchantments included some elements that Leon recognized from the Raven Tribe’s antimagic enchantments. Those who weren’t keyed into the manor’s enchantment scheme would find their magic not working as well as it should have.
His party was, with the exception of Justin, entirely composed of post-Apotheosis mages, however, and their origin power ensured that they didn’t have to worry about that.
The back of the manor pressed against the back of a line of townhouses, separated by a narrow alley. Sensor enchantments designed to monitor anyone in the alley were identified and then swiftly disabled by Leon and Nestor before they could alert anyone of their presence, and then Nestor wove a single ancient rune in the air, and Leon sensed a hole opening in the fence’s enchantments. Using nothing but raw strength, Alcander bent the fence bars, and Leon’s party darted inside. Alcander then bent the bars back, and with a quick burst of magic, they rippled until all signs of their egress vanished. Nestor then let his rune flicker out, and the party pressed themselves against the back of the manor.
Leon pointed to an entrance to the manor in the back, just around the corner. “Servant’s entrance,” he said. “There’s probably a way into the basement from there.”
His companions nodded, and he led the way to the door. He was almost disappointed when the door proved easy to open, having been secured only with a physical lock and several weak, easily disrupted enchantments. It seemed that the fence enchantments were the most powerful wards in the manor proper, and Leon made a mental note to check Westmount for similar lapses in security when he returned home.
As his companions slipped in, they found themselves in a long hall, with the quiet din of servants working in several rooms branching off the hall. They swiftly moved down the hall, no one making any noise, checking the doors that they came across. They knew that the sally port was in the basement, but the manor’s specific layout wasn’t known to them.
“… and get some more wine,” Leon heard from an adjacent room. “We’ll need more barrels to keep the locals happy once the festival begins.”
A grunt came the response, and Leon pushed his people into a nearby room just in time to avoid another servant walking into the hall and rounding a corner.
Knowing that wine was typically stored in cellars, Leon silently ordered his people to follow that servant, and sure enough, they were led to stairs leading down into the earth.
The basement was large and filled with all sorts of boxes and barrels, all arranged in ways that Leon didn’t have the time to discern. As they filtered down the stairs, however, the final stair creaked just as Alcander, bringing up the rear, stepped on it. The servant fetching barrels of wine came back around a corner, a curious look on his face, and without waiting for him to sound an alarm, Leon flashed forward and zapped the third-tier mage with lightning.
“Leon!” Valeria hissed, her voice so low that a mortal would’ve barely heard it. “That wasn’t necessary!”
“He would’ve seen us,” Leon argued. “He heard that creak.”
“And now the other servants are going to look for him,” Valeria said.
Leon gritted his teeth and held his tongue. He wasn’t going to risk them being seen, but Valeria had a point; dealing with this now unconscious servant could be messy…
“Leave him,” Nestor grunted metallically. “They’ll think he fell or took a nap or some such thing. Such is how the lowborn think when they have no reason to suspect otherwise.”
“And when they wake him, he’ll talk,” Valeria said. “He can say we were here…”
“Steal some wine,” Nestor said in a way that sounded like rolling his eyes. “They’ll think it a robbery. Either way, I found the sally port. We can go without leaving a sign we were here.”
“Aside from an unconscious servant,” Valeria grumbled, but Justin laid a hand on her shoulder, and she said no more.
Nestor ignored her and instead headed over to the basement wall. The basement itself was bare, dug down into bedrock. Both the walls and floor were flat stone, without any visible signs that there was anything there. Leon, however, had noticed what Nestor also clearly had: the magic in the basement air, sparse though it was, was flowing in a way that looked random, but followed a certain current that suggested ancient runes were being used.
Nestor reached out with what little magic he possessed and plucked the thin core of the current of power like a harp string. Using ancient runes was almost like playing an instrument, and Nestor was a master; he only needed to pluck that magic three more times quickly, and then a portion of the wall faded away as if it had never been there in the first place. Though this opening, wide enough for three men to walk side-by-side if they squeezed a bit, had disappeared like an illusion, Leon knew it hadn’t been until that moment.
The tunnel beyond was pitch black, impossible to see through even with post-Apotheosis eyesight. This was no mundane darkness, not with the amount of magic Leon could sense flowing through it, but it was magic he was prepared for.
“We can turn around,” Justin suggested without much conviction. “We don’t have to go down there… There are other ways into the city…”
Nestor waved his hand, conjuring another ancient rune. In a flash of light, a pair of golems, both only about three feet tall, dropped from seemingly nowhere. Their metal frames hit the ground and froze, the vicious daggers held in all six of their respective arms glinting in the basement’s low light.
“We haven’t even been seen, yet,” Nestor said as he crossed the line between the basement and the tunnel, stepping over the disabled golems. “There’s no need to fear…”
He vanished into the darkness, and as everyone looked to Leon for guidance, he reminded himself that this wasn’t venturing entirely into the unknown, having studied the city’s plans closely over the past week.
So, Leon followed Nestor, and everyone else followed him into the dark.
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