Chapter 340: Breaking into the Commonwealth Palace

Horace casually strolled towards the Palace in Torun. His operative followed closely behind, as they blended into the crowd around them. Looking at it, Horace squinted. It was suicidal to enter. He had lured Konrad and Aleksander out, but that was hardly enough. Killing Lesezek was nearly impossible.

"New objective." Horace spoke, "Find information that will be helpful in the war and future occupation." It pained Horace to order his men to change mission. Doing so practically said he wasn’t good enough. But it was an impossible mission for them. His people all nodded and separated in the crowd, all heading towards the Palace. Horace moved forward, picking up his pace.

It wasn’t long before he stood outside the gates. Looking at the beautiful garden surrounding the Palace, he sighed. Guards patrolled every section, never leaving a part open for too long. Horace walked around the fences for a while and stopped where there was an opening. Leaning against a nearby wall, he waited and watched. Counting the minutes, the number of guards.

Nothing was left to chance. Bells tolled, and the guards all perked up, running towards the other side of the Palace.’One has been caught.’Horace clicked his tongue and started the countdown in his mind. A minute passed, then two. Finally, after two minutes and thirty seconds, the patrol returned to its place.

Looking between the garden and the Palace, Horace calculated how much time he would have to run across. He didn’t have a disguise, and his black clothing stuck out like a sore thumb.

Around half an hour passed before the alarm bells went off again. Horace watched as the guards became alert and ran off.’Now.’Starting the internal clock in his mind, Horace slipped through the gates. Running across the perfectly trimmed hedges, he stuck to the shadows. Every sense was on high alert as he tried to track any changes in noise.

A footstep, a cough, even a change in the wind. Nothing escaped him. The hedges ended, and Horace clung to them.’1:45’Peeking around, he saw in the distance, one of his men being put on their knees as two guards beat them. Looking the other way, the coast was clear, and Horace made a break for it. Flowers of all colours surrounded the long, winding pathway. Insects flooded his path as an overwhelming smell attacked.

Horace looked over. Watching the guards, he saw as one pulled out a rope and tied his operative up. A couple more guards threw punches at the man, deriving what could only be pleasure from the act as they laughed and slowly turned to return to their positions.’Too quick.’Horace clicked his tongue in annoyance and dove to the ground.

His arms and legs scraped across the ground, and he quickly crawled his way to the Palace. It was so close, but it felt so far. He could hear the men getting closer, and Horace looked around. Crawling wouldn’t get him there in time. Looking at the flowers, he could see they were quite high, so he took a gamble.

Getting up ever so slightly, he began running in a crouched position. It was like a shadow flashed past everyone looking through the flower. Not enough to warrant suspicion, but sufficient to make someone question if they had seen something. Horace sighed in relief when he heard no one coming for him and touched the walls of the Palace.

Placing his hand on the wall, he crouched down and picked up a stone. Jumping and holding onto the window seal, he smashed the stone into it and reached around to unlock it. It was primitive, and even Horace felt ashamed for using such a way to break in, but he had no choice. Between getting caught and being shameful, he chose the latter.

The window quickly opened, and Horace let himself in. Closing it and locking it back up, he closed the curtains to hide the smashed glass and could only hope no one saw anything from outside.

"It was here, I think?" Leaping behind a sofa, Horace held his breath, hearing two people walk in. Peeking out, he saw a maid and butler, and with a glance at his clothes, he saw that they were filthy. He knew that he couldn’t walk around like this without getting caught and prepared.

It was a split decision. As the butler went over to the closed curtain, Horace crept out and wrapped his arm around the maid’s throat. Before she could even react to what happened, his mouth covered her mouth as she desperately clawed at Horace’s hand, her tapping feet alerting the butler in front.

"Wha...."

"Don’t make a sound or she is dead," Horace said coldly, cutting him off. Tightening the hold he had on her, the maid stared at the bullet with terror-stricken eyes.

"Sto..." Horace tightened it even more.

"Shhh. Not a sound until I give permission." Horace moved back and shut the door. The butler tried to move forward, but once again, Horace tightened his hold on the maid. Shaking his head, the butler stopped seeing the maid slowly stop fighting back, the power in the things she did weakening. Horace loosened his grip and released the covering he had over her nose.

Moving forward, he stared at the butler. He didn’t try to make any sudden movements, which made him happy. "Now. You will tell me where I can get a change of clothes. Quiet voice, anything louder than how I talk, and I will kill her. Then I will kill you. Am I clear? If I get what I want, everything will be fine." The man nodded, noticeably easing with the promise to live. Horace smiled like a close friend trying to put him at ease, "Good. Speak." Subtly moving closer, Horace watched.

"The servants’ quarters are closets. It’s down the hall on the left. Five doors down." The butler gulped and looked at Horace, who was a feet away. Still wearing a happy smile, the butler looked at him, his eyes shaking slightly "Is... is...Can I go?"

Horace took a deep breath and, in an instant, snapped the woman’s neck. Throwing the body at the butler, he leapt forward and grabbed him by the neck over the woman’s body. The man with the maid’s body over him tried to fight back. He attempted to claw at Horace’s face but failed.

"HE....!" Increasing the pressure on his neck, Horace quickly silenced any chance for help and looked behind him. He felt the man tearing at his clothes, but didn’t release, his eyes watching the door like a hawk. Only after a minute passed did he realise no one was coming and quickly refocused on the man. His attempts to fight weakened, and once he was unconscious, Horace gently moved the maid off and snapped his neck, albeit with difficulty.

After undressing the man, he put on the clothes, looked around and dragged the maid and butler to a cupboard, stuffing them in. Chucking his old clothes in, he put something in front of the cupboard to stop it from opening and left. He couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable in his new outfit, which was obviously too small. Before he stopped at the door, he looked around and saw a vase of flowers. Grabbing it, he carefully took them out, poured the water they sat in on his shirt, and left.

Leaving the trousers loose, he walked out of the room with his hands behind his back like a perfect servant. Having the smile of a man not unhappy but not happy with his job, he walked to the servants’ lounge over to where the uniforms were waiting. People gave him strange looks, wondering why a servant was getting new clothes, but turning to show the shirt, they rolled their eyes and ignored the man they believed to be clumsy.

After years of experience finding new identities, Horace could roughly tell which outfit would be in his size and grabbed the one closest. Taking a side room, he quickly got dressed, sliding his hidden weapons up his sleeves and putting the poison vial in his pocket. Everything was perfect, and although he didn’t understand the inner workings of the Commonwealth Palace, he had gotten enough information from Ada the few times he spoke to her.

’Poison the Prince and find Oskar. Final chance.’Despite the order he gave to his men, Horace had no intention of being labelled a failure by Alfred twice. Besides, why would he have numerous people work on the same objective when they would be perfect distractions elsewhere?

Horace didn’t spare a thought for their lives. Their loyalty was to the Empire, and if they died on the mission, then they died for the Empire, a cause better than themselves. Entering the kitchen, Horace glanced at all the food prepared. The failures of many assassins before were that they didn’t understand two things.

One was the food a monarch would eat. They relied on others to find it. But Horace knew. He had spent enough time around royalty to understand, and the information Ada told him about her brother gave even greater insight. Looking outside, the sun was high in the sky.

’Almost noon. A man in charge during a war would have to skip breakfast so his lunch would be big.’Chefs worked tirelessly to prepare an endless supply of food, and not wishing to look suspicious, Horace grabbed a random plate and walked out, finding a nearby place to hide it. Waiting a few minutes, he walked back in and looked around, seeing what could only be Lesezek’s food. Horace couldn’t help but be impressed by the protection around it, with the head butler not taking his eyes off the plates until the final piece was on it.

Horace glanced around at the plate, analysing what was left to be added.’Meat can’t be eaten on its own. It needs wine and vegetables, but it could be any of them. Not knowing his preference is a gamble. A soup can be eaten on its own, and the bread has been prepared anyway. No good.’Horace looked around and smiled,’Pastries. On their own, they are no good. They need cream.’Horace looked and saw the cream being made. He had one chance.

Walking over, he reached into his pocket. Unscrewing the top of the vial in his pocket, Horace timed every step. A few spare glances were thrown his way, but no one was paying great attention to another servant in the kitchen when the royal meal was in front of them. Swiping a piece of cutlery without being spotted, he watched the chef mixing the cream.

’3...2...1..’ Horace threw the cutlery past the chef, distracting him for a second. As he bent down, Horace bumped into him. Putting his hands up, Horace hid the poison behind his fingers like a magician doing a trick, and slowly angled his hand, pouring its contents in. "Sorry." Trying his best to put a fake accent on, the chef shook his head.

"Watch your step, fool." Turning, he looked at the nearby workers. "IDIOTS! Focus. You’re meant to be the best. Dropping spoons. Amateurs." After berating a random person, the chef scoffed and returned to making the cream.

It was the second mistake people made when trying to kill someone. Fast-acting poison was useless against a monarch. All of them had a food tester. Slow but lethal. It was all someone needed to bypass such things. Even if they discovered they had been poisoned, it would be too late by then. Chances were they would die in the coming days.

Horace glanced around. The commotion had people looking his way, and not wishing to stand out, he quickly helped with odd tasks. Once the kitchen returned to normal, he finally had a window to leave. Horace smiled and grabbed another plate, this time with tea on it. Leaving the room, he slowly walked through the palace halls and up the steps to find Oskar. From behind, he heard another servant get shouted at again, the person asking where the tea he needed was.