37th of Frost, 120
The nameless, savant, and lustrians alike all waited in the shadows beyond the fringes of the manor's light while Arkash, Fayeth, and two of his most capable infiltrated house Florent's estate. Their goal was simple: Saw Cailan Florent's head from his shoulders and exact revenge for the rioters and the nameless that were killed in his house's act of cruelty. More bodies than he could count had rallied under their cause and Arkash felt immortal with their aid.
They'd already broken into the estate and began to drain the lamps of their oil and extinguish them for added cover. But, as they'd scouted prior to the attack, there were a dozen knights crawling the manor's grounds and too many hollows to count. Arkash believed they were bound to wind up caught unless they executed their plan quickly and effectively, and he was proven right when the thud of heavy sabatons echoed up the stairway that led to the servant's quarters; the path they'd entered from.
At once, Fayeth and Ark looked to one another in a bout of panic, then looked to the Koltoskan and the Rien in their company to direct them to hiding places that littered the narrow hallway. If they were lucky, the shadow provided by the extinguished lamps would allow them to wait out the knight's patrol, and they'd pass by without noticing them.
Arkash hid beside a tall vase and tucked his body small. His darkened clothes helped to break up his shape and melded his colors with the darkened mahogany wood while Fayeth disappeared behind the drapes. The knight entered the hall they were in and paused. The heavy footsteps that trailed behind them heralded the presence of hollows; two it sounded like. Arkash began to tremble when he heard their false breathing, the raspy, shriek-laced wheezing that flowed from their synthetic lips.
He could only imagine what the knight had paused for; The darkness of the hallway? The snow they'd trailed in through the servant's entrance? Had they seen one of them? The thud of their sabatons moved then, And Arkash held fast as the knight moved to inspect one of the lamps they'd drained. It was confirmed; the knight was confused about the darkness of the hallway. That didn't help to put him at ease, though. Arkash still shook in his metaphorical boots. Terror overcame him, just knowing those monsters were near. He'd tried to prepare himself for the time that he'd inevitably encounter the mechanical demons, but he'd not anticipated it would be so soon.
It stole his breath and squeezed his heart. The sounds of its emulated breathing shook him at his core, and he hadn't the sense to compose himself. His throat was tight and his scars burned as his eyes welled with tears. Ultimately, the knight left the lamp alone, and proceeded down the hall toward where the rath hid.
More than anything else in those proceeding footsteps, he wanted to disappear into the wall. His heart raced and his breathing quickened to a point, all before the knight that stopped as they passed the darkened corner he hid within, then paused to stand fast before him. That same knight then turned to lock eyes with the rath with an almost eerily calm air about them. He was caught.
The knight immediately turned and drew the blade at their hip to strike and kill Arkash without so much as a warning. Terrified; froze in fear, he didn't move. Even when the knight rolled up in preparation to run him through, he shook in his balled-up position while his lips dripped venom; he was defenseless.
When the argent fully committed to striking him dead, Fayeth leaped from shadows and thrust both her shortswords into their clavicles and down into their chest with the aid of her Cardinal strength and gravity alike. She was fast, faster than anything Arkash had ever seen move. He doubted even he, a practiced thief and assassin could keep up with her. Her strike pierced both the knight's lungs and rendered them unable to scream while the dranoch clung to her prey. At once, both the native rien and the koltoskan ambushed and dispatched the hollows with a couple of quick stabs at their nexuses.
Just like that, all that had witnessed their presence were eliminated... Until the knight dropped their sword with an echoing clatter that resounded as it bounced off the marble. Arkash only stared in disbelief, then began to breathe again when the hollows hit the ground one after the other. He broke free of his fear-forced stillness and snatched the knight's blade from the floor while Fayeth dragged the plate-armored carcass down the hall they'd come from. All around them, heartbeats quickened. The sound of shuffling in the manor picked up, and heavy footsteps of various sizes began to close in on their location.
They were fucked. They'd killed one knight but at least eleven remained, and they no longer had the element of surprise on their side. The mission was a failure just steps into the manor; it was time for plan B.
Arkash rushed in terror to the window and dropped the blade on the sapphire rug, which he kicked up in his haste. With a flick of his body, he threw his rifle into his claws, quickly took aim at the night sky and fired his gun. The recoil pushed his shoulder down a little, but it was an impact he'd long since grown comfortable with. As quick as the first shot, he let his rifle fall from his grasp to be caught by its sling on his shoulder, produced his pistol, and fired again through the broken glass into the night sky. Two gunshots were fired, and the message was delivered. With his human eye, he could see all those that fell in with him rallying at the front gates. Asmodei beheld his glowing enkindled sword and cut through the lock of the front gate in a single stroke, then pushed the bars open with a boot of his heel. The infantry flooded the courtyard and took their practiced positions, then covered their ears with their improvised muffs.
Whether or not he'd made the right decision was irrelevant from that point on. He couldn't alter what came next.
The Argent were all in a fuss about the manor, converging in the halls and rushing to the stairs. Arkash merely watched as the nameless and citizens alike lined up, then ducked as Asmodei gave the order. Fayeth and their two companions ducked in tandem with the rath, then covered their ears as Asmodei bellowed the second command to aim.
The Argent were more or less entirely on the first floor by the time Asmodei gave the command to fire, and a barrage of bullets shattered the windows of the front wall for both the upper and lower floors. Many of them missed and struck the stone instead, and a mere two of all those that fired landed a hit on the knights, but nowhere vital or overly debilitating. That was the first round, the second was due in mere moments.
The direction of the Argent's focus shifted, and they began to push through the front door with their hollows as shields. Meanwhile, the gathered rioters swapped places with another row that lined up behind them. Again, the infantry took aim on Asmodei's command, lined up the shot, and fired at the forming wall of hollows. Being as resistant as they were to bullets, most of the damage did little to impede them. A fair number of the second row were a lot more accurate than the first row, and a couple of nexuses were damaged in the spray of rifle fire.
Arkash lifted his head to peer through the broken glass of the windowsill as the argent rallied and prepared behind the impenetrable wall of hollows they'd formed while the most formidable of their gathering commanded and assembled a forward assault with the gathered golems. The rath swallowed hard and began to tremble as the beasts loosed a chorus of metallic shrieks and incoherent wheezes. He trembled with such intensity that his claws rattled on the ivory wall he leaned on.
Then came the third line of infantry, composed entirely of the stronger, more athletic Savant and Lustrians. All armed with basic melee weapons, they charged with Asmodei's lead and met the hollows in the middle of the courtyard with a sporadic clash. In some parts of the line, the hollows broke through, only to yield to the living in some parts of their own line. It was bloody, graphic, even. But the battle raged on. Humans and elves were cut down and murdered, golems were destroyed. He couldn't hang back to watch the result of the clash, though, for Fayeth met his shoulder with her pale hand and drew a startled gasp from his lips. "We have a mark," she reminded the rathor.
Quickly, he nodded, then pushed to his feet while his legs shook tremors beneath him, and began his slow, crouched run for the Lord's chambers. Those killed in the courtyard beyond weren't to die for nothing. Cailan Florent's head would be theirs.
