The King's Playground - A Vast World

Chapter 1: Home, bitter home - Part 4

Everything. That would have been Abel's answer if he would have been asked. It all went wrong. It went shouthwise wrong. He almost got caught twice, and he had had to knock a guard out and tie him up as well as he could with a rope he had to go and find before coming back to tie the man. This was a catastrophe already, and he hadn't reached the floor he needed to yet. This would take him the whole night, and it made him angry.

When he finally reached the floor, he took his sweet time to find the door and break in silently. He closed the door behind him. The woman had not heard him, and was sound asleep. Swiftly, he moved to her office, in the back of the room, next to the window. He began looking for texts in Vrain, using the name of the soldier Malika had given him.

He found a box of letters, but he decided to shove them in his inner pockets and keep searching, he'd read them later. He kept looking, and found a leather clutch with the name of the soldier engraved on. This was it. Sadly, Abel was not only tired, but an idiot, and his "Fuck yes, finally" Resonated like a death sentence in the room.

"I would not use those terms if I were you, Abel alkhayin," said the voice. "You are under arrest."

He sighed at the sound of Sarh'Illana pulling out her own saber, and the blade hissing and thrilling, giving off that characteristic sound of a choir. He turned his face towards her.

"I am mainly looking for more information of the man I suspect to be the commandant of the assassinations attempts..." Tried Abel. "You'd agree with me that this is of extreme urgency, and drop the blade. Maybe you'll even help me, since we work the same cause."

"I am not sure we do."

"I do not wish the death of the princess," he assured.

"That I cannot be sure."

"If I did, I would have taken you out to."

"I can't bring myself to think that you are this intelligent," mocked the woman.

"How nice of you," he mocked back. "The same can be said towards you. I even wonder if I'm not the smart one here..."

"Drop those documents," she ordered "Not only you are a thief, but you will be slowing down my research instead of helping. Plus, who knows if you're not behind this, coming in the Palace to finish the job your friends could not do as well as you."

"I am here to help you find the commanditor." Abel placed the clutch down and raised his hands. "I do not wish this confrontation, Sarh'Illana. You have my respect and trust, I want you to trust me back. Let me help you."

"None can trust you. I saw you take something else. Place it back down, liar."

"I have no plans on leaving anyway."

"I still can't believe this country's best liar." She was singsonging it, almost. Abel frowned. Something was off.

"The best really?" He said blandly. "It's true I'm good at talking. Now, why don't we work together, hm? We have the same goal. You know I we do."

"No we don't."

Abel had heard enough. He grabbed the clutch again. When the crown guard jumped to behead him, he threw the clutch at her face, hitting her in the nose. He use the momentum to launch himself and disarm her. She made a motion to reach for her saber, but Abel guessed that instead of trying to fight for the weapon, she would go for her dagger. He had the wrong grip on the sword, yet he still attempted to cut her movement by slashing forward.

She backed up untouched and Abel used that to take his guard correctly and go for a piercing attack towards her lower abdomen. It would be easier for her to block it, and it was, but she hadn't realized that it left her extremely out of guard. Abel kicked her hands and reached for his long knife. She had let go of her dagger, and used both her hands to grab the blade of the knife going for her calves. She was about to scream for help, but Abel cut that short by headbutting her in the forehead with all his strength. When she was disoriented, he used the back of his knife pommel to strike her on the temple, knocking her out flat.

He barely had the time to catch her before she hit the ground. He dragged her body to the bed and tucked her in as if nothing had happened. He took to the window to escape and shoved the clutch in his tunic. He closed the window as well as possible behind him and started climbing down. He soon realized that this would not be an easy task. There were guards on the battlements and he was literally in plain sight. He could not use the battlements to escape either, not enough of a hide. Abel cursed. He hardly saw a way of getting his arse out of it, plus the sun would be rising in almost an hour, if the sky was anything to tell. Abel cursed again.

Away in the city, he spotted the grand market. A gigantic building that appeared almost small from his point of view. It was long, covered in an intricate roof, and the merchants would soon start to install their stalls. This. He could blend in and disappear in the chaos that would soon arise there. He just needed to actually reach the place. He snorted. Stupid-ass Palace and stupid-ass him for getting stuck against a wall, hanging from a decorative, 5cm large walker that sprouted out the wall conveniently for him to hold onto. His arm was dying on him faster that he had hoped for, and either he'd have to change and stay stuck there until morning, or he had to get off and snick his arse around the damn Palace.

He sighed and let go of his hold, landing a few meters down on a tree in a small inner garden. He got down and crossed the garden, reaching the wall on the other side. He was now closer to the Western wall of the Palace, and it was time for him to try and reach it.

He climbed again, and atop the garden wall, he could see his objective much better. He grabbed onto the wall of the building aside him, probably containing some sort of kitchen/dining area since it had a dome, and climbed up. This wall was less flat, and more decorated that the ancient prison, and it was way easier to find inlet and grip on this wall. He got to the dome very easily, and made his way around without any issues. Once done, he used a thin decorative walker, stretched between each corner of the building and the walls and building around it. One of them stretched to the Western wall, so Abel funambuled his way over.

Arriving at the end of the walker, he crouched and jumped up, grabbing a thin murderess with both hands. He regretted it immediately when his hands twisted and folded in weird, fracture-inducing ways that made him slip out a gasp of pain and another curse. He rolled his eyes at himself and made his best to free one of his hands without falling to his death. He pulled on his hand, throwing the other one up to catch a hole in the wall. Rougher that other inlets before, this one scraped his skin and had him wince. The adrenaline prevented him to cuss out his best insults, and Amallah bless him, he had a stockpile of those.

The ascension proved itself to be a lot more difficult, and Abel pulled himself up the last inlets more with sheer will than actual body strength, since the latter seemed to have abandoned him a few meters down. He was short of breath and sweaty, bloodied hands and his head light when he finally got on his feet, thank Her he was alone. He wiped the sweat off his brows, replacing them with blood and cursed himself at the realization.

This time, the way down would be a real rest compared to the way up: he could use the security ropes laying around for the soldiers to get down with in case of fire or destruction of the wall. He tied himself with the security knot and unrolled the thing on the other side of the wall. Turning around, feet on the wall and rope in his bloody hands, he walked down the wall, wincing as the rope pulled even more skin from his palms, and finally reached the ground after what seemed an eternity.

When turning around, and facing away, he heard screams about intrusion and murder and whatnot. He swiftly disappeared behind buildings and walls, and the sun rose above the Palace as he became wind in the Grand Market.