Blue Blood I
Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2021 3:38 am
37th of Frost, 120
If they could accomplish their goal without attracting the attention of the knights, then many lives would be spared that night. The men and women Arkash went about arming and training weren't fighters. There were lots of them with plenty of guns and ammunition alike, but they weren't trained. Still, he ran them through the basics. Numerous drills were held in the day before the attack in which he taught the conscripts how to load their rifles, how to aim, and briefly, how to shoot with decent accuracy. His hope was that with so many numbers, they would overwhelm whatever Chevalier showed themselves.
Of course, the goal wasn't to put the good rien people in harm's way; they were only there as assurance; a backup plan, a trump card. The real attack would happen while they waited in the wings; Arkash and a small group of his most promising were to infiltrate the Florent Estate and kill Cailan Florent in his sleep. Why Cailan? He was of the same house as Annalise Florent; the one that had ordered the butchering if the nameless. What was more? It was also likely that he commanded the attack on the rioters.
Annalise had brought grief and despair to the nameless, the Savant, and the Lustrians alike. They were to return that grief that night, and three castes united in a revolution against the tyrannical Florent.
The riots and attacks had been happening all across Breven, several lords and Barons had been slaughtered and their heads were mounted on pikes across the country. The anger, the rage, the chaos, they all spoke to him on a fundamental level. The further the country fell into disorder, the more whole he became. Knowing that he was doing his part to bring about true freedom to all the people of Lorien was more fulfilling than he could say.
He lived for the discord. It was more right than any order he'd ever known; he could stand among humans and know their sour expressions weren't something to fear or shy from, for their hate mirrored the direction of his wroth. Without the nuances of finance and law to cloud the minds of the people, he stood beside them as an equal; something he'd never before experienced with people of higher castes.
He'd spent the last few hours watching and waiting from the shadows, where a battalion of the bereaved waited to taste blue blood. From a distance, he watched the manor through his spyglass. He'd expected security to be light given that Lords were being executed across the province and the war with the revolution was still ongoing, but there they were, at least a dozen knights and too many hollows to count.
As much as he hated the fact, he had some idea as to why they'd gathered in the estate. Just the day before, Arkash had led an attack on the gun factory to arm nearly two hundred citizens and nameless alike. Their presence was a precaution; they suspected Cailan Florent was next on the rioter's list of victims... How unfortunate for Arkash that they were right. Arkash furrowed his brow, selected his most capable two from the people that had joined their cause, then selected Fayeth to come with him. Asmodei was to stay behind and lead the assault on the estate if they needed such intervention.
Once all was discussed and decided, and all were certain of their directions and the signals, Arkash proceeded to the frozen streets under the cover of the night and wove around the darker patches of old bloodstained snow to arrive at the Florent Estate gates, then looked back at his following to ensure they were on his tail. The three, Fayeth included, were close, all dressed in their darkened fabrics to help blend in with the night. He couldn't even see the shine of their skin in the dim light that emanated from the estate.
Of course, he didn't plan to use the front door. That was far too obvious an attack strategy, and they likely guarded the entrance with a bounty of unseen hollows. So, Arkash led the group around the fence to the left-wing of the manor, then looked to the others in his company. With a motion of his claws, he gestured to the servant's entrance, then presented two claws to warn them to stay. At once, the three ducked behind the stone rise of the fence, and Arkash nodded in approval.
A reach of his leather-wrapped claws gripped the rim of the fence. With ease, he pulled his weight up and tucked his legs close to his chest as he brought himself to stand on his hands above the fence's spikes. With a kick of his legs, he threw his body weight from the wrought iron and propelled himself to land on the snowy ground, crouched and poised to pounce. Again, he looked back to ensure that the three in his company hadn't followed him. He could barely see them from their ducked position, which was ideal.
The rathor kept low and scanned his surroundings before he ran swiftly and lowly across the snowy grounds. It was there that he saw the impressions of the hollow's footsteps in the snow; the direction in which they'd patrolled. It had been some time since the hollow made its round; he knew he didn't have long. Under the cover of the entrance, Arkash produced his claw, hesitated, then stole himself to cut the scales of his arm. Thick, darkened bile ran from his flesh, And Arkash at once used blood shaping to produce a lockpick.
With experience breaking into places that weren't meant for him, cracking the lock was relatively easy. The barrel clicked once all the pins had been tucked into their correct positions, and he rotated the mechanism to free the latch. The sound of crunching snow caught his heightened dranoch senses: it was approaching. With a hiss, he partly opened the door, then slipped into the Servant's quarters to hide.
Arkash didn't even check the quarters and instead focused his hearing on the sound of thudding footsteps beyond the door. If they checked the door, he was a goner. Thankfully, they passed without much effort. It seemed that they didn't even think to recognize his footprints in the snow; hollows were so cheap in their design. He was fortunate that no knight accompanied them, he supposed. Still, they'd prepared too much to take such unnecessary risks. He had to take more care going forward, but it was difficult with his focus so divided between all his senses. Dranochism really was inconvenient at times.
With a low exhale, Arkash turned to check the room; it was a fairly standard kitchen of raw wooden tables and furnaces that lined the wall. There were two separate doors that led to pantries and shelves for plates and silverware, but the last thing they were there for was to raid the kitchen. Regardless, it seemed all the staff had retired for the night, which suited him well. With a sigh of relief, he gently pushed the door open and listened for any sounds before he fully opened the raw wooden barrier, and motioned his claws into the Darkness. Fayeth caught his gesture, as she too could see clearly in the night, and gestured for the others to follow her. One after the other, they climbed over the fence and darted across the grounds to enter the estate from the servant's quarters.
Once the three were in, Arkash locked the door behind them in case others came by to check. They took a moment to check their guns while Fayeth drew her shortswords and briefly inspected their curved edges before she adjusted her grip, ready for combat. With both his rifle and his pistol fully loaded, he motioned for the others to follow him and proceeded up the stairs into the main body of the estate.
The interior of the home was like nothing he'd seen before. Ivory walls trimmed with ornate gold, marble floors, and lavish sapphire rugs with golden thread to line the edges. Paintings of various worth and hanging caged lanterns lined the walls. Vases of various designs and qualities stood on pedestals that lined the walls between the tall windows that Arkash had previously been spying through.
After a brief sweep of the nearby manor with both his and Fayeth's amplified hearing, they nodded to one another. Arkash darted across the ground to extinguish the lantern. His careful claws drank the warmth of the glass while he carefully opened the cage and smothered the flame. If they could darken enough of the estate, they'd have more spaces to hide. Argent might question why the flames had died, but Arkash had a solution for that, too. He poured the oils of the lamps into a waterskin to make it appear as though the servants had simply forgotten to refill them.
They continued like that for a while, extinguishing the lanterns they could and stealing their stored oil for future use... That was when a shuffle in the servant's quarters stole both Fayeth and Arkash's attention, and the thud of Sabatons alerted the two in their company. A knight was headed their way.
