The city of Winter's Crown was quiet in the early hours of the morning, the streets cloaked in mist and the palace spires shrouded in shadow. Within the confines of the safe house, Damien leaned over a table covered in hastily scribbled notes and maps. The interrogation of Gregor had provided critical intelligence—Elyas's next move wasn't just an attack. It was a masterstroke designed to cripple the kingdom's leadership.
Carys and Amara sat nearby, both equally tense as Damien laid out the details.
"According to Gregor," Damien began, "Elyas has planted assassins within the palace. Their targets are key members of the court, including those who would support us if we make our move against Marlowe. If they succeed, Elyas will not only weaken the crown's influence but also ensure there's no opposition to his plans."
Amara frowned, tapping her dagger against the edge of the table. "Sounds like he's tying up loose ends. Classic Elyas."
"Which means we have to act now," Damien said. "We can't wait for the court's investigation to run its course. If Elyas's assassins strike, the kingdom will fall into chaos."
Carys studied the map, her green eyes narrowing. "The palace is heavily guarded, but if Elyas has infiltrated it, he'll have someone on the inside. Someone feeding information to his operatives."
"Then we deal with them too," Damien said. "But first, we stop the assassins. If we can prevent the attack, it'll give us the leverage we need to expose Elyas once and for all."
Amara smirked. "So what's the plan? Walk right into the palace and hope for the best?"
Damien's steel-gray eyes met hers. "Not quite. We'll need disguises, a distraction, and a lot of luck."
---
The palace loomed like a sleeping giant as Damien, Amara, and Carys approached its outer gates. The trio had discarded their usual gear in favor of guard uniforms, stolen during their raid on Elyas's safe house. The heavy armor was uncomfortable, but it allowed them to blend in as they slipped through the gates under the pretense of being reinforcements.
The courtyard was bustling with activity despite the early hour. Patrols moved in tight formations, their weapons gleaming in the torchlight, while messengers hurried between the various entrances.
"Stay close," Damien murmured, his voice low enough that only Amara and Carys could hear. "We head for the west wing. That's where Gregor said the assassins would enter."
Amara adjusted her helmet, her smirk hidden beneath the visor. "This might be the first time I've walked through the front door. It feels wrong."
"Focus," Carys hissed. "We're one mistake away from being caught."
They moved quickly through the courtyard, keeping their heads down and their movements purposeful. The west wing was quieter than the rest of the palace, its corridors dimly lit and lined with statues of long-forgotten kings.
As they rounded a corner, Damien held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. Ahead, two figures in dark cloaks were crouched by a side door, their movements precise as they worked to pick the lock.
"Assassins," Damien whispered.
Amara's hand went to her dagger. "Want me to introduce myself?"
"Not yet," Damien said. "We need to know how many more are inside. If we strike now, we could miss the bigger threat."
Carys nodded. "We follow them. Quietly."
---
The assassins slipped through the door, and the trio followed, their footsteps silent on the stone floors. The corridor beyond was narrow and unadorned, its walls bare save for a few sconces holding flickering torches.
Damien kept his distance, his steel-gray eyes fixed on the figures ahead. The assassins moved with purpose, their path leading deeper into the palace.
After several minutes, they stopped in front of a large wooden door. One of them pulled out a vial of liquid and began applying it to the lock, the faint hiss of acid filling the air.
"They're heading for the council chambers," Carys whispered. "That's where the court will convene later today."
Damien's jaw tightened. "We stop them here. Amara, take the one on the left. Carys, cover the hallway. I'll handle the other."
Amara grinned. "I've been waiting for this."
---
The attack was swift and silent. Amara moved first, her dagger flashing as she took down the left assassin with a single, precise strike. Damien lunged for the second, his sword cutting through the air as the assassin turned, a blade already in hand.
The clash of steel rang out in the confined space, but Damien's skill quickly overwhelmed his opponent. The assassin crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering to the floor.
Carys stepped forward, her crossbow at the ready as she scanned the hallway. "Clear."
Damien knelt by the second assassin, checking his belongings. Among the man's weapons and tools, he found a small piece of parchment.
He unfolded it, his eyes narrowing as he read the list of names written in a neat, elegant script.
"This is it," he said, holding up the parchment. "The targets. They were going to kill every member of the court opposing Marlowe."
Amara peered over his shoulder. "Efficient. I almost respect it."
Carys frowned. "If this is just one team, there could be others."
Damien stood, his steel-gray eyes cold. "Then we split up. We stop as many as we can before it's too late."
---
The trio moved quickly, splitting up to cover more ground. Damien headed for the royal chambers, where one of the names on the list—a loyal advisor to the king—was likely sleeping.
The corridors were eerily quiet as he approached, the faint glow of lanterns casting long shadows on the walls. As he rounded a corner, he spotted a figure slipping through a side door.
Damien followed, his sword at the ready. The room beyond was dark, save for the faint light of a single candle. The assassin was already inside, his blade raised as he approached the sleeping figure on the bed.
"Stop," Damien commanded, his voice cold.
The assassin turned, his expression hidden beneath a hood. Without a word, he lunged at Damien, his movements quick and deadly.
Damien parried the strike, their blades clashing in the dim light. The assassin was skilled, his attacks precise and relentless, but Damien's experience gave him the upper hand.
With a final, powerful strike, Damien disarmed the assassin and drove his sword into the man's chest. The assassin crumpled to the ground, his blade falling from lifeless fingers.
Damien turned to the bed, where the advisor stirred, his eyes wide with fear.
"You're safe," Damien said, his voice steady. "But you need to stay here until this is over."
The advisor nodded, his face pale.
---
Elsewhere in the palace, Amara and Carys were equally successful in stopping the other assassins. By the time the sun rose, the trio had eliminated every threat they could find, their swift actions saving the lives of several key members of the court.
---
As they regrouped in a hidden alcove near the palace gates, Damien held up the list of names, his steel-gray eyes burning with determination.
"This wasn't just an attack," he said. "It was Elyas's way of ensuring no one could oppose him."
"And we stopped it," Amara said, her smirk faint but triumphant.
"For now," Damien replied. "But Elyas will know we were here. He'll retaliate."
"Let him," Carys said. "We're ready."
Damien nodded, his resolve unshaken. The fight against Elyas was far from over, but for the first time, Damien felt like they were one step ahead.
And he intended to keep it that way.