Chapter 256: Execute the Mission

"He’s approaching." One of the killers said quietly, sitting atop a long carriage. Turning his head and pulling the curtain, he saw his twenty men readying their weapons.

"What the plan then." One asked, looking past the driver.

"Stop in front of them and surprise them. In the surprise, we can easily get rid of two of the guards."

"It’s quite different from our usual way." The rest shared the nervousness in the man’s voice. While they had killed important targets, they always had more time to plan. The suddenness of the mission threw them off.

"I know. But we’ve been paid well for this job to make up for this. Just think of the gold after it’s done." The rest nodded in and steeled themselves, getting rid of any hesitation.

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Reading a small report, the carriage suddenly stopped confusing Lech. Peeking his head out the window, he saw the long carriage parked in front of them. "Go deal with that..." He couldn’t even get the words out before he saw one of his guards who walked towards it collapse, their blood puddling below them.

A second fell quickly, and Lech ducked back in. "ENEMY ATTACK! PROTECT HIS GRACE!" The leader of his guard called out the soldiers, making a defensive wall around the carriage. Lech ducked down and reached under his chair. Pulling out a small box with a chain mail chest piece and a small dagger.

"Help me." Lech didn’t wait and turned around. His servant quickly dropped the chain mail over his chest, and Lech remained ducked, holding the dagger close to his chest. He learnt from his brother’s mistakes. He always had more guards than needed when leaving and always carried a weapon. The only thing he couldn’t change was his route, which was one way into the city.’I need to bring this up to father.’

Even with the fighting going on outside, he was calm, having faith in his guards. The attackers outside didn’t expect such a quick reaction and were thrown off guard. Despite that, they showed their professionalism and reorganised, attacking the weakest point. The defenders held firm, focusing on defending.

The attackers tried and failed multiple times, losing two men for everyone they killed. "Boss. This is fucked." With a groan, one called out quickly, having to block a strike that would have killed him.

Clicking his tongue, the boss looked around. He knew it would be a hard job from the pay alone, but it wasn’t what he signed up for. They were best for assassination, not a battle. He wanted to call the retreat, but remembering his employer’s cold eyes, he felt scared to do so. He may die attacking the carriage, but if he ran away and was caught, he couldn’t imagine what would happen to him. "Will break through eventually. Keep at it." Dodging an attack he tried to cut through the heavy armour of a guard just for his sword to only cut it.

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Henryk rode desperately at the head of his escort. He had mobilised most of his household guards in a desperate attempt to get to his son and, whilst most were still catching up, didn’t care, not wishing to lose another son.

He could hear fighting in the distance, so he sped up. He could see the carriage in the distance, and the pitiful amount of guards left. Although many of the assassin’s bodies lay on the floor, he could see it was still standing enough to be able to win if he didn’t intervene quickly.

The assassins heard the reinforcements and went pale in fright. "Fuck. We’ve been had." The boss recognised instantly that it was a set-up. "Retreat. Now." His men didn’t hesitate and quickly ran in the opposite direction with the boss saddling the horse. Henryk coldly looked at them, ran off, and didn’t stop to check his son, giving chase.

Riding next to one, he swung his sword, cutting the man’s back open. Trampling a second, he watched his men kill the rest, with only one getting away. Clicking his tongue, Henrky rode over to the carriage, jumped off his horse and threw open the door.

Lech lunged out, and Henryk smirked, dodging to the side. Holding his hand out for his son, Lech smiled and lifted himself." It’s good to see you, father." Pulling his son in for a hug, Henryk finally sighed in relief.

"You nearly killed me, but at least you’re safe." Chuckling, Lech shook his head.

"Of course, you could dodge it." Lech broke away and looked into his father’s eyes. "But how did you know?"

"Piast informed me." Lech squinted suspiciously, and Henrky understood why. "Don’t jump to conclusions yet. He may have had nothing to do with it. For now, we go home."

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Horace walked casually down the dungeon halls with cuffs around his writs. Watching the guard’s every move, he saw the man get distracted by a small rat for a second. Not wasting a chance, Horace swung his wrists over the man’s neck and pulled tightly. The guard tried to fight back.

Horace moved, not wishing to make a commotion, snapping the man’s neck in one go. Dropping the body, he quickly scavenged for a key and unlocked himself before taking a small knife from the dead body.

Walking up the steps, he saw one of the guards on the door and silently went behind him. The guard started to turn, feeling a presence, but it was too late; a knife plunged into his throat. Dragging the body back in, he took its keys and closed the dungeon door, locking it.

The blood on his hands was too obvious, and wiping them on the inside of his clothes, he quickly moved. Once again, servants gave him strange looks but said nothing, continuing their chores. Clicking his tongue, he knew that his outfit was too obvious. He followed where most of the servants came from and ran in the direction, finding a small washroom.

Breaking in, he picked through a few dirty outfits and tried to find one that fit him the best. Horace knew every second mattered and wasn’t picky, taking the one that matched his best size. Quickly stripping, he put the butler uniform on and buried the gardner uniform deep into the basket. Sliding a pair of white gloves on, he hid the last traces of blood he couldn’t remove and slid the knife up his sleeve.

Walking back out, he scoped the manor. The luxury of a floor plan didn’t exist, and even knowing where his target was would be a guess. But he understood nobles enough. Heading to the front door, he saw the large staircase in the main entrance going upstairs. Walking up it, he put on a cold face, ignoring everyone around him. His eyes darted across the long hall, and seeing only one room with guards on it, he knew it was his target.

The duke would have mobilised everything to save his son, but he wasn’t stupid enough to take them off his grandson. Horace took a deep breath. He only had one chance, or he would die. Sliding the dagger down ever so slightly, he smoothly walked towards them, his eyes looking straight ahead.

The two guards shifted slightly, seeing his approach, but it wasn’t anything aggressive. Horace carefully moved his arm so the dagger could drop more and counted his steps.’Five...four...three...two..’The dagger fell, and catching it in his hand, he sliced the neck of one guard.

His move was quick, but living up to their reputation as the Dabrowski family’s personal guards, the second didn’t hesitate and kicked Horace, pushing him away. Time was ticking, and each second he delayed, the closer he got to failure.

Horace closed the distance, not letting the guard use his sword properly. Stabbing forward, the man narrowly avoided Horace’s attack and reached out, grabbing his wrist. The guard pulled him in but didn’t notice the twirling of the dagger in Horace’s hand behind him.

Taking out his own dagger, the guard pulled back but stopped, feeling a cold steel pierce through the back of his neck. Kicking the soldier away, Horace spared a final glance before letting himself into the room.

Klara sat shivering, holding her young son, staring at Horace in terror. "Please. Please. I’ll do anything." Her desperate cries fell on deaf ears as Horace walked over, looking like the grim reaper to her. Pulling Jakub into her chest, she cuddled him fiercely.

"HEL..!" In a single motion, Horace stabbed into her throat, silencing her, the final noise she heard being his click of the tongue. Looking over Jakub, any semblance of emotion vanished. Putting his hand over the young boy’s mouth, he slid the dagger into his heart and twisted.

In the distance, he could hear people rapidly approaching. His eyes scanned the room. He couldn’t fight his way out. He trained in hand-to-hand combat but wasn’t a master. Running to the window, he gauged the drop. It was long but survivable. Despite that, it was risky. He needed to be able to move afterwards.

The footsteps quickly got closer, and knowing he was running out of time, he opened the window. Grabbing the bedding, he stabbed his dagger through it, lodging it into the window frame. Throwing it out, it didn’t reach the ground, but without hesitation, he threw himself out, rappeling down.

He could hear people in the rooms, and reaching the bottom of the bedding, he jumped off. He tried to make his fall perfect but still hurt his ankle. Groaning, he bit his tongue and fought through the pain, trying his best to run off. The front gate was of no use. He didn’t know when Henryk would return.

Thinking back to his time in a garden, he thought about the parts where hardly anyone went. Going as fast as he could, he looked around. Taking the gloves off, he grabbed the metal fencing and climbed over, taking a final look at the manor.