The Vengeful Princess

Chapter 11: Prison Break Part 1

I winced gingerly as I disinfected my wounds. My body was currently contorted in an odd position as I attempted to reach the lacerations on my back. Ella was busy looking after Ivy, which unfortunately left me seriously regretting daydreaming during Irelia's medical lessons.

Normally, I would take a wax bath to help speed up the healing process, but it was almost sundown, which meant that I was short on time. Hurriedly, I managed to messily bandage myself before dashing over to the fireplace, where I had stuffed a sack of my things. Every movement sent tiny tingles of electrifying pain shooting up and down my body, but there was nothing I could do about it now except to push through it.

I had been provided with armour and garments by the Forsaken, made especially for agility and camouflage during the night. My armour had been modified so that it was easily hidden under clothing, with special slots for concealable weapons.

Veremund may have wealth and luxury, but when it came to weaponry and armour, Northern Aztalon was unmatched in innovation and technological advancements. We should have been invincible against any attack. That fact alone furthered my theory that King Francis had somehow managed to recruit a high ranking Aztalonian into his employment. That meant that an Aztalonian subject had helped to bring about Aztalon's fall.

I ran a hand along my collection of blades. As always, my dagger was strapped to its usual spot on my thigh, but tonight there was also a sword at my hip and throwing knives hidden in their allotted spots in my armour. Bows and arrows were too difficult to conceal, so Ashe would bring mine to the rendezvous point. Pulling my hooded cloak over my shoulders, I reached under the fireplace again and pulled on the latch, waiting for the familiar click as the panel slid open.

♕

Shadow and night were our allies as we crept along the sandstone walls. After a brief reconnaissance of the tower, our small group had identified around thirty guards in total patrolling the halls and grounds, but only half were directly in our way to the dungeon. The entrances were heavily guarded, with two guards directly on the only two visible entrances, both armed with swords and covered in bulky armour while five other guards attentively patrolled the perimeter. Once we made it past the nine guards posted outside, there was only the guards who patrolled the hallways and the three officers who were supposed to be guarding the prisoners that we had to deal with.

Our scout had scoped out the tower during the past few nights and had informed us that the best time for the prison break would be after mealtime as there was always a thirty minute window before the night officers came to replace them. This would allow us to attack while they were not only tired but had their guards down.

My leg bounced anxiously as I watched the guards shove the trays of food into the cells. Through the barred windows, we could see the prisoners hungrily gulping down the food, stuffing the bland mixture into their mouths with their fingers.

"We could still fight our way in, you know." Kenji hissed into my ear.

I glared at him in annoyance. "We don't have the numbers." For some reason, Silas, Ashe and Kane, the strongest three Forsaken members Irelia had promised to me for this mission, were absent, bringing our strong ten down to an unstable seven. Kenji was one of our newest recruits, who I had barely spoken to before leaving for the palace. From what I had heard, he had an excellent aim but is headstrong and acts impulsively, with an overeagerness to shed blood. He was comparable to a child. A bloodthirsty child. I had no clue what Irelia was thinking when she sent him along tonight on such a high stakes mission.

"We don't need the numbers. We have the skill!" He scoffed. "You see that chink in their armour? The small gap where their neck is exposed? Give me a bow and arrow and I'll take out both of the guards guarding that front door." He grabbed my bow and stole an arrow from my quiver, lining up his shot.