Anna smiled, and I realized how close I’d come to disaster. She wouldn’t have done it out of greed; more just to make sure I was on my toes. Wow…
“Okay, Vitold, l-let’s add our y-young friend to the contract scroll first, since h-he needs much less than we do. Sound good?”
“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Vitold replied. “Go ahead: ‘Hagen, free laird of Tronje, shall be given the chalice made by the mountain masters during the First War of the Skeletons, which is located in the treasury of the Western Crown under inventory number XPE-143322.’ Good?”
It hit me that I could have held out for a lot more, but I decided to play it safe. “Yep, that’s fine,” I replied, holding up my arms. “I just need to get it as soon as possible, before you all start handing out gifts. There are some responsibilities I have, and they do happen to be written down on paper.”
“Ah-ha!” Brother Yur wagged a hand holding a goose quill at me. “You’re o-obviously working with a smart, e-experienced businessman. Learn a l-lesson, young man, and y-you’ll be fine.”
“Write in a title for him, as well. I’m going to make him a thane, and maybe even put him in charge of the guards,” Anna said suddenly.
The two dealmakers exchanged glances and then looked at me sympathetically, with Yur breaking the silence.
“My f-friend, you’re d-done here, right? Don’t worry, w-we’ll get everything written down. In the meantime, h-head out into the courtyard—our people are out there, and I think we’ll m-move out in half an hour.”
You unlocked Overthrow
This is the fifth in the All Hail the King! series of hidden quests.
Task: Participate in the palace coup.
Additional task: Do not die during the course of the quest. If you do, it will be considered a failure.
Reward:
2000 experience
Valuable trophy
Accept?
The old treasurers knew better than me, so I figured my job was done and walked out. A couple dozen knights of the temple were clanging around in their armor when I got to the courtyard. Adalard was quietly driving some point home to them, and they were all tightening belts and otherwise doing their best to look the part of rough, experienced warriors. Not all of them were successful, as it looked like Aegan was where the order’s newest recruits worked off their rough edges. That made sense, of course; it wasn’t the North, and nothing really happened in the city. Most of the knights there had probably never been in a real fight before.
“Oh, Laird Hagen,” said von Ditmar, who was happy to see me. “I’m glad you’re here. You’d have a hard time storming a hen house with this lot, not to mention knocking Federik off the throne. What a sight!”
“Oh, come on, Adalard, we were all like them once,” I replied in an attempt to stand up for the order’s youngest generation. “Most important is for them to live through their first battle—everything else will come with time.”
Von Ditmar clapped me on the shoulder, gave me a knowing look, and went back to getting everyone in line.
“Laird! I’d like to thank you for introducing me to Tren-Bren.” Von Ostin came over, and he had a child-like grin on his ruddy face. “She graciously agreed to be the lady of my heart, and we even went for a walk in the wood outside the city. Her soul is so beautiful—you have no idea! We spent half the day today killing evil wolves that were hurting the little bunnies. She’s a saint! She has such a big, compassionate heart.”
How many levels did you pick up today, little fairy? From what I could remember, wolves were tough to take out, and pretty high-level. Nice work!
“Don’t mention it, Herbert,” I replied with a wink. “Good luck to you both!”
***
Half an hour later, everyone was starting to get antsy. The younger knights were bored, and the few veterans (Adalard especially) looked to be hankering for a drink. It was late for them, and they were used to being drunk or even happily snoring at that time. But no, there they were standing on the street, completely sober, and it was starting to get cold…
Just then the leaders of our plot walked out onto the porch. Anna was somewhat sullen, I thought, her face contrasting the happy smiles Vitold and Brother Yur sported behind her. It looked like they’d gotten what they wanted and maybe a good bit more. I couldn’t help envying them.
They were flanked by four novices in hooded robes identical to the one Brother Mikhael was wearing, and I assumed they were the treasurer’s personal guard. I was starting to realize why Gunther was so nervous about Brother Yur. Have one scroll go missing, and you’re toast.
“Okay, listen up,” Vitold called out, clapping his hands. “We’re going to head over to the courtyard of a building next to the palace, and you’ll get your final instructions there. Remember, everything from here on out needs to happen quietly—very quietly. No noises, no shouting, no iron clanging. We need to make sure nobody notices us until it’s too late.”
Brother Yur stepped down from the porch and came over to me. “S-surprised about something?” he asked, glancing at my face.
“That’s not the half of it,” I replied. “My whole life, I thought coups were all about fires, fights, duels, assaults…”
“…bloody d-drama, dark prophecies,” Brother Yur continued. “You j-just get those in the songs the m-minstrels sing and traveling performances. In reality, coups that are noisy, with a b-big r-racket, those are the o-ones doomed to fail. Ideally, you want your s-subjects to simply wake up in the morning and find th-that they have a new king or queen. Making a huge sensation is unnecessary and h-harmful. And th-that’s why I hope e-everything will be fast, quiet, and easy. Count Gaynor i-is still out there though…”
“Who is that?” I asked. That wasn’t the first time I’d heard the name.
“The o-only sensible p-person in Federik’s circle,” Brother Yur replied, his voice a bit lowered. “Vitold d-doesn’t count since he doesn’t serve anyone b-besides himself. But C-count Gaynor…he’s a f-faithful servant of the king. Federik h-has him in charge of his security, and he was a g-good pick for the j-job. It would be great to have him on our side, but you c-can’t buy his type. Vitold t-tried to play on some old stories th-they have, but it doesn’t work. And n-now he knows what’s c-coming.”
I nodded. “And he’ll be expecting us.”
“If th-they’d listened to me, they’d have knocked him quietly over the head a-and we’d be out of the woods.” Brother Yur tightened his robe. “What a-are you frowning for? This is politics, n-not worth worrying over.”
“Let’s go, since everyone’s all clear.” Vitold waved a hand, and the blue circle of a portal appeared near the porch.
***
Where we found ourselves really wasn’t the courtyard Vitold had said it was. In fact, it was more of a field or meadow. I had no idea how there could be an area with that much space right next to the palace.
“Wondering about how big it is?” Vitold came over to me noiselessly. “It’s a stable yard; everyone knows that Aegan has the biggest horse fair in Rattermark. There aren’t many horses out there, and they’re expensive, so breeders can afford big chunks of land this close to the king’s palace. Right on the other side is a backdoor entrance. A friend of mine owns the yard, and he let us use it tonight for a steep price.”
I’ll bet you’re the owner yourself. Sure, he probably had some seller with a beer belly and a beard as his placeholder, but it had to be his. When am I going to get back to simple, easy quests? All I wanted was to just have to go kill something…
There were more than a hundred people sitting, walking, and even sleeping all over the area, and they came in all stripes. Bran’s people were in leather armor and had claymores strapped to their backs. (It didn’t look like he had the gift he’d promised, though he did have a good fifty warriors.) Danoot’s outfit was colorful and bedraggled. There were fifteen or so of Vitold’s men dressed in clerk’s robes acting like professional killers, and of course, Ad
alard’s knights.
“O-okay, Princess, Bran, Hagen, and y-you, young man.” Danoot pointed a finger at his chest inquisitively. “Yes, yes, y-you. All of you, come o-over here.”
We formed up into a semi-circle around Yur, who looked over the group.
“And n-now listen carefully and remember what I s-say. Questions afterward.”
The plan Brother Yur had developed was simple and straightforward. I caught myself wondering if all the palace coups Dumas and Walter Scott had written about had actually happened the way they’d described. Could it have all been artistic license, just a way to make the whole thing more intriguing? On the other hand, the game’s developers were Russian, and everything in our history really has been straightforward: the poet’s scarf, a snuff-box to the temple, a fork in the throat, a bomb underfoot, and voilà. There was the one time where Peter had marched on the monastery with his regiments, but that was just because he had an inflated opinion of himself…
Anyway, back to the action, everything was set up; we were going to move through the enormous palace garden, get in through a back entrance, and from there, attack the palace. The servants were bought and paid for, so there wouldn’t be anybody telling us to halt and asking us who we were.
The garden guards were either dead already or about to kick the bucket thanks to some wine a cute kitchen maid brought them. Once inside, one detachment—Bran’s people—would take the central wing, polishing off the guards and taking control of the central hall with its palace entrance. Their orders were to make sure nobody got in or out. Everyone else was supposed to make their way to the ceremonial hall, which was next to the king’s quarters, and from there, it was easy. We’d take out the rest of his guards, force him to abdicate in favor of Anna, and let the head of the Academy of Wisdom confirm that she had the requisite proof of her right to the throne. All hail the queen!
Danoot’s troops would be responsible for explaining to the simple peasants what had happened that night, seeing as how those were their people. They were all children of working families. All of them were given slogans like Queen Anna is our everything and New heights under Queen Anna’s banner, and they weren’t released until they could repeat them back. There was no worrying about the merchant and other classes; traders would get lower taxes, dignitaries would get the chance to keep their heads. There were a few exceptions of course, as Anna did need to settle some old scores. It was simple, clean, and elegant. And it sounded very doable.
“Everything c-clear?”
“Not to me.” Danoot glowered at us. “So we’re not going into the palace? What? You think we’re illegitimate bastards or too ugly to be in there? We want to be involved, too, and, if we’re lucky, we want to kill the king.”
Anna and Brother Yur glanced at each other.
“Well, we can’t take all of you, since we need some left to talk to the people,” Vitold said with a charming smile. “But you, for example, and that curly-haired fellow with the pipe are welcome to come.”
Danoot nodded contentedly, though he wasn’t done. “Xant and Vaylerius are coming, too. They need the experience.”
Vitold looked over at Anna, and she thought for a couple seconds before nodding. Danoot went off to tell his friends, and we heard Yasmuga’s response wafting back to us.
“That’s a good decision. Theory without practice is dead; theory supported by practice can move mountains.”
“Exactly what we need,” Vitold said quietly, glancing at Anna and Brother Yur. He then headed toward Danoot, apparently with further instructions. Garibaldis like that were liable to just up and rush in ahead. We needed a different approach.
Our group walked out of the horse-yard gate and quickly crossed a small square, coming face-to-face with a large, carved door that creaked quietly open.
“Everything good?” Vitold asked two men in livery.
“The guards are dead, the doors are secured,” one of them replied quickly.
“Where i-is Gaynor?” Yur asked anxiously.
“Nobody knows.” The man shrugged. “We haven’t seen him since earlier this evening.”
“Ah, I don’t l-like that,” Yur said, shaking his head. “I don’t like th-that at all…”
“Oh, come on,” Bran replied with a roll of his eyes. “We’re going to kill them all, so what’s Gaynor going to do? He can’t find a hundred and fifty blades in the city; there are just fifty guards in the palace; and everyone else is out on maneuvers with the generals. It’s perfect. My men are each worth three guards, and those moneymen over there look like they know a thing or two. Adalard has his Knight Templars, though they’re pulling all that dead weight around with them. Anyway, we’ll be fine, Master Yur.”
The assault group had gotten through to the palace door by the time he finished talking, and they poured in through it. The picture was a scary one: night, the dark walls of the palace, the palace itself looming over us, the gloomy garden, and the silent warriors marching in to kill their unsuspecting victims.
I was one of the last to walk in. Lamps burned on the walls, which made me feel better. I don’t like the dark. It isn’t that I’m afraid of it; I just don’t like it or feel comfortable in it.
We walked through halls, up and down stairs, down corridors, and through more halls. The palace was a big one, and I got the feeling that it was bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside.
“Okay, we’re headed for the central entrance,” Bran said at a point where some stairs branched off.
“Do you know where to go?” Vitold had lost his joviality along the way; he was dry and to the point.
“Of course,” Bran replied with a crooked grin. “We memorized a map of the castle…you know, for interest’s sake.”
He and his people marched quickly down the stairs.
“Anna, you’ll have to replace the staff completely,” Vitold said to the princess, who was as tight as a bowstring.
“Obviously,” she replied, “though that’s all later. If we get to ‘later,’ of course.”
“We’re g-going to find out soon,” Brother Yur noted calmly. “There’s th-the ceremonial h-hall. Danoot, my d-dear, go ahead and open the d-doors. That will be nice and s-symbolic f-for you.”
Danoot smirked, walked over to the large gold doors, and shoved them open. We walked into an enormous hall that was even bigger than Fomor’s hall in the Ice Wall. It was rectangular, and on one end of it, there was a large throne set on a pedestal. Across from the doors we had walked through was another set, which I found strange. The room is a rectangle, so why have two entrances on the sides when you could have just one directly opposite the throne?
We heard the sound of rushing feet and clanging metal, and the doors on the other side of the hall swung open. About seventy guards rushed in behind a black-haired man wearing dark armor. He was wielding a sword with a wavy blade.
“And th-there’s Gaynor,” I heard Brother Yur say quietly.
“Not quite in time!” Gaynor announced to us.
“Gentlemen, what’s going on here?” Everyone in the room was stunned to hear Federik’s voice, and we all turned to see him standing by the throne wearing a nightshirt and nightcap. There was a candle burning in his hand.
Chapter Twenty-Five
In which the hero realizes that palace intrigues aren’t his cup of tea.
“B-block off Federik!” Brother Yur ordered sharply, and his group threw off their cloaks, revealing glistening steel armor and bastard swords in their belts. They dashed toward the throne, and Federik froze, with no idea what was happening.
“Protect the king!” Gaynor barked a second later, and he took off in that direction with three of his men. “Run, Your Majesty, run! Save yourself!”
But the king was either stupid or having a hard time believing what was going on. One way or another, he didn’t go anywhere. The rest of the guards didn’t join the battle either, instead watching in spellbound silence as everything played out in front of them.
Gaynor’s and Yur’s troops met halfway to the throne. Swords clashed, and everyone else in the hall tensed.
“What are you waiting for?” Vitold asked angrily. “Go kill the rest of them!”
“Wait, Vitold,” Yur cut in, paying no mind to the swordplay going on. “G-guards, if you don’t w-want to die, you are welcome to s-simply bow the knee to Anna, your n-new q-queen. If you do, you will walk a-away, free to live out the rest of your life in p-peace. Your rights w-will be upheld, and your pay will s-stay the same.”
“Don’t listen to him!” cried one of the guards. “They’re rebels, and they’ll be dead by the end of the day. Kill them unless you want to die with them!”
If any of the guards were thinking about switching sides, that order put a stop to the idea.
“You kn-know what always amazes me about p-people? How anxious they are to die,” Brother Yur replied, chiding the guards. “But w-we all choose o-our own fate.”
The two groups started toward each other, then picked up speed until swords met shields, wood cracked, blades rasped, and the cries of the dying rang out. It wasn’t a battlefield with all its space for maneuvers and dashing duels; it was just a room, if a large and empty one. Everything was set up to receive guests and organize balls, and it certainly wasn’t the best spot for a fight between hundreds of warriors. Gaynor and the accountants took up quite a bit of space as well. For some reason, neither we nor the guards got involved in their skirmish. While Gaynor had already lost two of his three men, there were only two of Brother Yur’s accountants left. The four were evenly matched.
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