Muiren woke up from the most uncomfortable sleep he had had in a long time, and that was saying a lot considering he had been in nothing but tents these past few weeks. The ‘bed’ was nothing more than a worn mattress, and whatever was jagging into him throughout the night.

He stood up and arched his back, trying to crack it to relieve some of the built-up tension, but it didn’t work. The sheets covering him slid to the ground revealing a well-toned body as he grunted and proceeded to put his simple farming tunic on. The tunic was rough, he had always been used to more delicate clothing having been brought up in the royal guard.

The smell of cooked eggs and bread drifted up to him from below, maybe that had woken him up more than the bed. He proceeded down the stairs to around ten new faces, all of which were sitting around a lazy fire around some of his own men, eating and sharing stories.

Aredd was keeping true to his word and doing his best to sneak in as many of the soldiers as he could. Although how they found this place was troubling, Muiren looked around to see Kleon was nowhere in sight, perhaps he was at the tavern directing them here.

Muiren walked up to the men and took a seat, grabbing a plate and helping himself to breakfast. “Where is Kleon?” he asked anyone as he took his first bite.

“He is at the tavern, sir. He has asked me to switch with him in around five minutes.”

“You don’t have to call me sir. I’m no lord. Muiren is fine.”

“People call you lord all the time?” one of the men quizzed.

Muiren took another bite before continuing. “Yes, they do. But I wasn’t born a lord, and I don’t particularly enjoy the title. I am a soldier first, and I am not above any of you.”

The men in the room nodded their approval as they continued with their breakfast and began chatting about their past conquests… of women. Many of the men here were claiming to have been with upwards of ten women. Some of them almost in triple figures from what Muiren had heard. There was no way any of these men would be settling down anytime soon.

Not him though, he had been with his childhood sweetheart from such a young age. No other woman ever compared to her in Muiren’s eyes. He was content with that.

“You’re awfully quiet Muiren,” one of the guards said.

“Yeah! How many have you conquered,” another said with a thrusting motion. Laughter ensued from the men, Muiren couldn’t help but join in.

“Only one. My wife of eighteen years.”

“Horseshit!”

“How many men then?” The young man closest to him jested, jagging his elbow into Muiren’s side. He couldn’t have been older than twenty.

Muiren laughed. “Fuck off, Ryan.”

“That doesn’t sound like zero to me,” Ryan returned.

Muiren noticed everyone watching him and winked at Ryan extremely obviously. “You seem very interested in the men I’ve possibly been with, are you trying to tell us something?”

Ryan blushed and shifted awkwardly on his seat. Everyone else burst into laughter at his expense. Muiren couldn’t help but enjoy the tiny victory.

Kleon came back into the warehouse as the original guard stood, quickly apologizing for forgetting to swap and rushed off to the tavern.

“A word, Kleon,” Muiren said as he rose from the crate he was sitting on. A nod was his only response.

They walked side by side up to the level above and into what appeared to be an old office. Muiren closed the door with a gentle thud behind him as Kleon took the seat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just want your opinion and to, I guess, test you. What would you do for our next move?”

Kleon’s mouth fell open slightly. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that,” he laughed, buying himself a bit more time to answer. “I would infiltrate the palace.”

“How?”

“Using Lord Toris.”

“How?” Muiren replied bluntly.

“Have him sneak us in some way.”

“Where would we hide? How would he sneak us in?”

Kleon frowned. He didn’t know how it would work or how to do it, he was put on the spot though. He wasn’t prepared for the questions he had never been asked anything like this before. But then, he wasn’t training to become an officer or commander back then. “What would you do then?” he asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Muiren smirked. “Well, you were right. We need to sneak into the palace. Lord Toris is the wrong approach, though. It’s easy and could work, but there are too many variables, and it's best if he remains our backup plans. First, I would track every unit around the area, size of patrols, where they eat, shift changes.”

Kleon narrowed his eyebrows. “How would that help?”

“Secondly,” Muiren continued. “I would then pick off a small patrol of around six men, silently.

“Wouldn’t that just raise suspicions?” Kleon asked.

“It would. If they really did go missing...”

Kleon looked on completely lost. He would need to think about things differently now, maybe the new role was more of a burden than a promotion.

“I do need a new set of armour,” Muiren jested

The spark finally took hold on Kleon as his eyes lit up. “And then a small group of us can simply walk through the front gates,” Kleon said.

“Exactly. Then what?”

“Then we get troop numbers, find out which lords are loyal to them and who isn’t. Work out their weak spots and where the defences are.”

“You got it, send out the men and report to me later. This is your mission.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take a nap,” he said, forcing a yawn.

~

Muiren woke up to the sound of his door creaking open. Instincts had him grabbing the dagger before he had even opened his eyes, his heart thumping in his chest.

“I picked a target,” Kleon said with surety.

“We should wait till dark before we strike.”

“I know, I have. You’ve slept for ten hours old man.”

Muiren flung the covers back on his bed and stood up. Looking up through the small windows he noticed the moon staring back at him. Granted he did feel better after the extensive sleep, he was ready for anything. He grabbed his sword and fastened it to his belt. “Lead the way.”

The six of them were waiting in an alleyway sometime just before midnight, the alley was only six streets away which they would hopefully be able to sneak back with the bodies and armour before anyone noticed.

The crescent moon illuminated the area well, casting looming shadows stretching over the city. Two of the guards were at the far end and another two stationed at the entrance. Muiren and Kleon were hidden behind some crates in the middle, at the choke point where they were waiting to execute their plans.

As Kleon had expected the patrol of six men in their black armour came marching down the alleyway. Their heavy metal boots thumping on the ground as they tramped, spraying muck from the puddles all over their armour. Not that they particularly cared, some poor soul would be cleaning it for them anyway before the night was through.

They walked in a lazy formation which Muiren figured was down to tiredness or inadequate training. Making him feel more at ease with the plan.

He watched his two men slip silently behind the guards and follow them down the pathway, their walking concealed by the stamping of the men in front. The sound of conversation and laughing began to flow from behind Muiren as his two other guards, in their simple farming outfits, trod from around the corner as casually as possible.

They were getting closer, closer to the trap. Lord Muiller’s men were at ease, mostly ignoring the simple farmers. “Drunkards,” one of the men said with disdain.

The two of Muiren’s men stopped at the centre of the alley at the opposite side from Muiren and Kleon as the first two guards walked past them.

A sharp nod from Muiren signalled the assault. His two farmers withdrew daggers from their belts and straight into the two closest soldiers’ unprotected necks. Sending them spluttering to the ground in a heave of blood and gore, gripping their necks as they bled out quickly. They fell fast and hard, it was the perfect start, too clean to even let them make a sound.

The two soldiers at the back of the group were quickly dispatched with similar tactics, although it was a sword piercing through the back of their heads that had them instantly dead.

Kleon and Muiren both lunged forward grabbing the soldiers from behind and holding their hands over their mouths. They wanted them alive, to provide further intel on the enemy movements. Kleon got the best of his opponent as the guard screamed into his glove, before finally passing out.

Muiren had the exact same plan, almost choking out the guard before he bit into his finger. Muiren let out a yelp as the guard screamed at the top of his lungs. “Traitors!”

“Ahh shit,” Muiren swore as he stabbed the guard with a dagger he pulled from his belt. “We need to get out of here fast. Grab the bodies,” he groaned through gritted teeth. Blood was dripping from his hand from the wound inflicted on his finger.

The six of them heaved Lord Muiller’s men over their shoulders, grunting at the excess weight they were carrying as they followed Muiren’s lead, jogging down the alleyway.

“This way,” he shouted.

“We are going away from the warehouse.”

“I know,” Muiren grunted. “There’s a patrol coming from behind us we can’t risk going to the warehouse and letting everyone be discovered.”

They kept a decent pace as they continued, keeping to the back streets and quieter neighbourhoods, but the guards always seemed close behind. From the sound of the stampede behind him, there were at least thirty guards in pursuit. They tried doubling back, taking narrow passages and anything else they could think of, but nothing seemed to work. They must be following a trail of some kind.

“We aren’t going to be able to outrun them for long,” Kleon said, the sweat collecting on his brow.

“What do you suggest then, Kleon?” responded Muiren through rasping breaths.

“A diversion. We can get one of the peasants to tell them they seen us going another way.”

Muiren shook his head as he took a sharp turn down a side street, the rest of them following his lead still. “It’s too great a risk, they may turn us in.”

“What choice do we have?” asked Kleon, panting heavily.

Muiren knew he was right; they were going to die here if they didn’t get rid of the pursuers soon. They were exhausted and close to collapsing. They needed a way out and fast. “Fine,” he muttered.

Blood. They were following a blood trail. He shifted the man onto his other shoulder now, trying to relieve some of the pressure, his other arm had almost gone numb from the weight.

They continued until they heard rabble outside a tavern just at a fork in the road. It was now or never.

“Fucking blackcoats.”

“I heard they put a curfew through most of the city.”

“And like usual they ignore us.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing, you still get to drink at night,” the second man laughed.

“The fuck…”

It was now or never. Muiren tossed a handful of coins to the man as his men slid in between the tavern and a nearby house to hide. “Please. Don’t tell them we are here.”

The drunks looked at Muiren, and the man he was carrying. One of the blackcoats. “And why shouldn’t we?”

Muiren could hear the thump of the soldier’s boots and the voices from them, they were close, too close. “Because you hate them as much as I do. Because of the coin, more to follow if this works.”

“Fine,” The drunk said. Muiren took his position and hid behind the house. The man stood up and staggered onto the street, his friend close behind and right enough thirty guards turned the corner a moment later, only to slow when they saw the two drunkards standing on the road.

“The traitors went that way.” As he pointed down one of the forks in the street.

“How many,” the soldier at the front asked, he was the only one not wearing a helmet.

“Six.”

The soldier whistled and sent his men rushing down the road. “If you are lying to me, I will be back here for you.”

Muiren could see captain. If the man were to turn around, he would be spotted. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest. They were trapped, at least on the street, they would have a chance, a chance to fight and kill some of them but here, stuck between two buildings with no way out they would be led to slaughter.

He could feel his mind wander to his wife, wondering if his son had been born yet, Arthur.

“I would never. Long live the king.” He was a professional actor, the captain appeared to buy it, and rushed off with the other soldiers down the street.

They could feel a weight lift off their shoulders as they appeared out from between the buildings. Kleon thanked the man and handed him a small purse of coins before they all doubled back and headed for the direction of the warehouse.

They got back without further incident. Dropping the five bodies into a pile in the centre of the floor where they removed the armour from it and began checking, some of it was damaged, especially the chest piece of the man Muiren had stabbed. They would only be able to sneak five of them in with the current armour.

There were another fifteen men in the warehouse than when they had left. Aredd was doing well with the supply of men into the city. The enemy that was left alive was secured and gagged in one of the upper levels, he was still unconscious.

“We need more over the next week before the Queen arrives. No prisoners though, quick and quiet,” Muiren ordered.

“Agreed,” said Kleon. “We already have some of their schedules and plans, but after tonight they may amend them. We will need to wait and see.”

“Take charge Kleon. I will be back in the morning.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Muiren began walking away. “To have words with Lord Toris.”

~

Muiren knew where he lived, he knew where most of the nobles lived. It was documented in the palace, especially when he organized guards and patrols for them. He began to wonder if Lord Muiller would have used the same schedules or changed them to suit himself. Or if he even bothered with guards at all.

Lord Toris’s city house was not so far from his own. The temptation to go home to see his wife was great, but it would put her in danger. He would have Kleon check in on her in the morning.

The red stone wall greeted him before long, no blackguards were visible as he slipped into his estate. There weren’t many of his own guards either, making Muiren wonder if the Lord had maybe returned home to his own estates.

The garden was immense, with a large fountain spraying water clumsily over the centre path. Muiren took the trail closest to the large hedges that ran alongside one of the exterior walls and followed it along until the mansion greeted him. Two guards armed with pikes patrolled the door, he could disarm them if needed too. The pikes would be no match for him up in person, but these weren’t the black armoured traitors.

He decided to walk up to them both. “I need a word with Lord Toris.”

The two guards looked at each other, their pikes primed at the man before them, ready to skewer him if needed.

“He is working with us, it’s about the Queen.” Was that too much? Did his guards know what he was risking? Would he have told them or at least some of them?

One of the sentries whistled and two more appeared within a few moments. Muiren hadn’t noticed them hidden amongst the shadows.

“Wait here,” the lead one said before scurrying inside.

Muiren could feel the eyes of the three guards watching him intently. The way they stood, their positioning, everything. He knew they were professionals.

This place was annoying him already, this was the lord’s city dwellings. He was rarely here, yet the splendour of the property was beyond compare. Even though countless people were homeless throughout the city.

The guard returned, “he will see you now, follow me. Leave your weapon at the door.”

Muiren thought it was an odd request to abandon his weapon at the door when entering the house of the one who was helping him, but he unbuckled his belt and let it slide to the floor with a clang.

The guard nodded his approval and opened the door to the house. Inside was just as luxurious as the beautiful gardens outside, if not more so. Stunning dark suede couches placed around the fireplace with a large coffee table resting in front.

A large red and brown rug encompassed most of the room and sitting on the armchair at the far side of the room was Lord Toris.

“Greetings, Lord Toris.”

“Lord Muiren.” Was the somewhat blunt reply. He was wearing his blue housecoat and not much else from what Muiren could see. “What do you need at this time of night?”

“Solutions and help,” he said, taking a seat on the couch opposite him.

“Go on.”

Muiren coughed softly before starting. “I may as well jump to it. We need to know the location of the armoury closest to the tavern we met.”

The lord’s eyes narrowed as he signalled one of his servants for refreshments. “What use could that possibly be.”

“It’s proving difficult to move around, and we need armour in bulk quicker than we can…procure.”

“I assume I can have you to thank for most of my household guard hunting for the missing patrol?”

One of the servants came back in with goblets filled to the brim with wine. Handing one to each Lord before scurrying off to the fireplace to light it, setting the logs crackling away to themselves.

“Perhaps,” Muiren sneered, he wasn’t wrong.

“It’s suicide. I found out today just how many soldiers they have in their legions.” Lord Toris took a sip of his wine as Muiren watched intently. “Twenty-Three Thousand. Most of which are stationed in this city. You should get a message to the Queen to take their lands before coming here. Siege or starve the city out.”

Muiren scoffed. He knew the Queen well enough to know she would take the capture of her city as an insult and too great to ignore. He also knew she wouldn’t take the lands of the nobles through force, too many innocents would die, and every soldier would be necessary to the survival of all humans. “She won’t siege the city.”

“You are sure of that?” Lord Toris quizzed to which Muiren replied with a nod. “How far away is she?”

“A week at most. Enough time to gather more intel. Anything you have to share would be a great help.”

Lord Toris lifted his goblet from the nearby table and downed its contents in one fluid motion. “Attacking the armouries is a suicide mission, a hundred men guard each of their main stashes with enough patrols passing through. If you attacked, there would be thousands of men at you within minutes.” He shook his head. “No, it won’t work.”

The two men sat in silence. For a long while, the only sound was the crepitating fire and the occasional servant wandering the nearby halls. “I know of an entrance, a secret one into the palace. You could sneak your men inside to explore and get what you need. It would be dangerous, and if you are caught before the Queen arrives, I will be of no assistance.”

At least he was honest, Muiren thought. “Fine. Where is this entrance?”

“At the main gate to the palace walls, turn and face south towards the main city entrance. Take the second street on your left. Follow that down until you reach the fifth house on the left and enter via the back door. There is a trap door under the rug that will lead you to a labyrinth of underground tunnels.”

He stood up and walked over to a small writing desk, grabbing his quill and parchment before returning to the table. “Look for this symbol.” As he drew what appeared to be an upside-down ‘F’ with a star above it. “Follow it, and It will lead you to a false wall at the far end of the throne room. Wait three nights, my men are on patrol in the throne room then and will let you pass.”

“Thank you,” Muiren said as he stood up, the two lords shook hands as Muiren turned to leave.

“And Muiren, you should see your wife in case this all goes wrong.” Lord Toris said before leaving the room and retiring for the night.

Muiren thought nothing of it. He had that plan in mind anyway, but he had to see this all through, make sure his men were ready. He continued out of the house and left the gardens as quickly as he could. Heading back to the warehouse without stopping.