The moon was low over the trees, casting pale light on the sprawling estate looming ahead. Manors are almost but not quite fortresses, their high stone walls patrolled by guards who made it clear that Reynard did no less than spend the most on fortifying that location for his clandestine meeting.
Damien pulled his hood forward to hide his face as he and Amara crept up on the outer gates in their merchant's disguise. Their cart, full of barrels and sacks, was a perfect cover, but it soothed nothing of the tension building within his chest.
"Remember," Amara whispered in his ear, her tone calm, yet firm. "Let me do most of the talking. You still sound too… noble."
"I'll keep that in mind," Damien said dryly, though he felt a flicker of amusement at her jab.
As they reached the gate, two heavily armed guards stepped forward, their swords gleaming in the moonlight.
"Halt," one barked. "State your business."
Amara stepped forward, her stance sliding instinctively into that of the overworked trader. "We came to bring supplies," she said, nodding towards the cart. "Lord Reynard's steward had requested supplies via the southern roads. Didn't know he was in such a hurry to feed his men."
The guard's frown grew darker as he examined them. "No word comes in from new suppliers. Where is your writ of passage?"
"Here," Amara said softly, pulling a rolled-up document from her satchel. It was a forgery, but an excellent one, thanks to her resourcefulness.
He took it, his eyes scanning the parchment. Damien forced himself to keep his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to grip the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath his cloak.
"Everything is in order," he said finally, returning the document to her. "Take this cart round to the storeroom. And do hurry—Lord Reynard doesn't take kindly to strangers wandering about."
"Yes," Amara said with a bow.
The gates creaked open, and a pair of guards waved them through.
---
The courtyard of the manor is bustling with activity. Soldiers move in formation, their armor clanking as they march. Servants dart between buildings carrying trays of food and drink. There's obviously still enough energy at this late hour for this gathering to be an important occasion.
Amara walked toward the storeroom, her step composed and controlled. Damien walked by her side, scanning his surroundings for threats or an escape route.
"We are going to need to blend in," Amara whispered to him as they halted close to the entrance of the storeroom. "The guards won't let us near the main hall without a reason."
Damien nodded, his mind working overtime. They had prepared for this, after all-their job was to get in without anyone's notice.
"Unload the supplies," Amara said aloud, speaking just loudly enough for a few of the other servants to hear.
They started shifting the barrels and sacks into the storeroom, moving with all the slowness of deliberate labor as they listened to the gossip around them.
"You hear what Reynard's planning?" one servant whispered to another as she walked by.
"Not exactly," the other replied. "But I heard him say something about striking Winterhold again. Says it's the key to controlling the north."
Winterhold had only just survived Reynard's first assault—another attack could shatter the fragile defenses they had rebuilt. Damien's jaw tightened as he turned to Amara, who caught his eye but gave no sign of what she was thinking.
"We need more information," Damien whispered.
They sneaked out of the storeroom, moving rightward, step for silent step, not to draw any attention. Amara led them toward a manor side entrance. She knew the layout and its weak points were helping her.
"This door goes into the servant's wing," she said quietly. "We can work up to the main hall from there."
Damien nodded. "Lead on."
The interior of the manor stood in stark contrast to the roughly hewn stone exterior. Polished floors, intricate tapestries, and flickering chandeliers said much of wealth and power. The air clotted with the smell of incense and roasting meat, overcast by the low hum of conversation from the meeting hall.
They moved quietly but fast, keeping to the shadows and out of sight of passing servants.
"Up ahead," Amara whispered, nodding toward a partly open door. Through the gap, Damien caught a glimpse of the main hall—a great chamber filled with long tables and roaring fireplaces.
Reynard's allies were gathered, their voices raised in heated debate.
---
From that seat, Damien and Amara observed the gathering. Reynard sat at the head of the largest table; the commanding presence from this seat was almost oppressive. His silvered hair and chiseled features carried the weight of authority, but Damien saw the ruthless ambition beneath the mask.
"We can wait no longer," Reynard said with a cold and authoritative voice. "Winterhold has no defenses left. We can seize it now as our chance to make it more secure before Vryce can regroup to retake it once more."
One of the lords, a plump man with a display cloak, raised his hand. "But what about the southern regions? If we are giving up too much to the north, how do we retain our hold on the south?".
"Well, then we crush them quick," Reynard said, with a tone that gave no quarter. "This is not a rebellion won through hesitation. Vryce is a wounded beast—we finish him before he can regain his strength."
Damien's fists balled at the comment, but he forced himself to relax.
"What is their play now?" Amara murmured.
Damien listened intently as another noble, a wiry man with a thin mustache, spoke up.
"I've heard that Vryce recruits mercenaries. If he manages to gather men, it will be more of a task than we thought it would be to deal with him."
Reynard nodded. "Then we should not delay. Tomorrow I will send my ambassador to the remnants of the Iron Scales. Their strength must be ours, to stand in face of Vryce's army.".
Damien looked upward at Amara. This was important intelligence; they were now aware when Reynard's plan would take effect and his intentions to fortify his army.
"We ought to go," he murmured, hardly above a whisper.
Amara nodded-but just as she exited, the back door swung open.
"Hey!" a guard yelled, half-drawing his sword. "Who are you?"
They stopped, their cover blown.
---
The intended ability for me to work is the guard, putting one hand on the hilt of the sword. "You are not supposed to be here. Speak who you are!"
Amara took the initiative. In one quick movement, she drew a dagger and lunged forward, silencing the guard with a swift cut across his throat.
"Let's move," she murmured, dragging the body into the darkness.
Damien nodded, his mind racing. Noise might alert others; every second now was critical.
They retreated through the servant's passage, avoiding telling eyes, running with all the speed their legs could muster. It was then that another patrol appeared out of nowhere, blocking their way out of the outer courtyard.
"Get them!" a guard shouted, charging forward with his sword raised above his head.
Damien drew his sword as per his old instincts. With determination in voice, he told Amara, "Stay close."
The gruesome affair was over all too soon. Very swiftly were the dazzling moonbeams shimmering off the blades as Damien deflected and made counter thrusts with almost deadly precision. Amara moved silent as a shadow and her daggers killing with sinister efficiency.
It wasn't long before the last guard fell. The courtyard was silent once again.
"We can't stay here," Amara said, cleaning her blades. "More will come."
"Agreed," Damien replied. "Let us go."
They crept into the woods, cloaked in darkness. Only once they made good distance away from the manor, they stopped in the woods to breathe.
"That was too close," Amara growled, irritated.
"But we got what we needed," Damien replied. "Reynard's plans, his timeline-it's all falling into place.
Amara lifted her head, shooting him a cautious glance. "Quite some risks you are taking, Damien. If things fall apart, the Revolution crumbles."
"I know," he said softly. "But if we do nothing, we will have lost it all."
The deeper they ventured into the woods, the more determined Damien became. Reynard's rebellion was as much a danger to the kingdom as it was for Damien, who longed for redemption.
And Damien Vryce, one man who refused to let his second chance leave him.