Chapter 427: Escaping the City

In the night, Janus called for an emergency summons. The council members wished to deny such a request, tired from their busy day, but when they didn’t show up in time, Templars arrived at their rooms and homes to force them to come.

At the head of the council table, Janus sat with his fingers interlocked, resting his chin on them. Behind him, Gabriel stood like a statue, the two watching as each council member was either forced in by Templars or dragged their tired bodies to their seat.

"This isn’t right, Janus!" One of them yelled in annoyance as he threw the Templar’s arms off him, "I remember when Theodoisus did something like this. Dragged his enemies out of their homes in the middle of the night."

"My friends." Janus softly spoke, with a thin smile, "Forgive me for being so forceful, but I needed you here whether you wished to be or not."

"What was so important?" One of the councillors who came of their own will asked with a disgruntled tone. He looked around and noticed an empty place, "Where is Bardas?"

"Bardas is a traitor." Janus didn’t hesitate to answer. None of the men were surprised by Janus’s words, knowing what type of person Bardas was. They were just surprised he managed to go so long without slipping up.

"Has his arrest been ordered?" The noble who first complained asked. All of them were surprised when Janus shook his head.

"The main evidence we could have used against him escaped. Whilst I would love to arrest Bardas right now, we can’t apprehend a noble so easily without evidence."

"And why not?" One of them asked with an annoyed tone, "If I didn’t know better, Janus, it feels like you are buying time for Bardas to escape."

"It’s good you know better than." His voice was cold as he replied, "His Majesty is currently in the process of solidifying his rule. These early years will define what type of ruler he will be. If we start arresting nobles without evidence, then he will be seen as no better than Theodosius, even if the said noble is scum like Bardas." Looking over at Elias, Janus frowned, "You owe him a debt that can’t easily be paid, Duke, I understand, but he has committed treason."

"What is the proof?" Elias asked the question on everyone’s mind. Looking up at Gabriel, the Grand Templar stepped forward.

"His Holiness has acquired evidence that Bardas Ammorian has met and allied himself with the Underwells of the Ammary Empire. The Underwells only move under the direct orders of Alfred Lindonfall. This isn’t a rogue element of the Empire but the machinations of our enemy." Gabriel scanned the room, "This operative is the same one who had previously worked alongside Magnus Maximus and the bastard child Livius Tatius, also known as Ash."

Gabreil took a step back as the councillors all frowned. They didn’t doubt the Church’s network nor that BArdas chose to work with the Ammary’s. Whilst the two Empires were on the other side of the continent from each other, both knew that conflict would break out soon. The only reason it hadn’t broken out so far was Theodosius’ desire to steal as much as he could from the church.

Elias clicked his tongue and shook his head, "This war is exactly what the Ammary want. We’re playing to their tune like this. Killing one another, weakening ourselves. And all they had to do was manipulate two men." Elias shook his head in disappointment. It was a disappointment in the Empire he served. They had gotten arrogant and complacent. The imperial family allowed traitors to fester within its lands, waiting for a catalyst.

"When his Majesty wins this war, we must change." Janus said sharply, "Our arrogance is no longer deserved." Jansu sighed and grabbed his forehead, "What a fool Theodosius was." Speaking to himself, Janus cleared his throat and sat back up.

"What of the Underwell?" A member of the council asked. Looking up at Gabreil, the Templar’s cold face grew colder as he clenched his fist behind his back.

"Vanished. I have men guarding every exit of the city and hope to mobilise some on each exit out of the country, but with the civil war, that will be an impossibility." Gabriel took a deep breath and clicked his tongue, "Even with all the exits blocked, we do not know his appearance. My men can only arrest him based on his accent. Refocus your attention on Bardas and hope we get lucky to capture the Underwell."

There was a collective moan from the men at the news, followed by silence. As everyone looked at one another, someone eventually broke the silence that was lasting too long. "He’s right. Besides, even if we found Underwell and executed him, we would be weak from the war. There is nothing stopping the combined might of Ammar and Silesia from attacking. Best not to provoke an enemy whilst we heal."

"Focus as many resources as you can on Bardas without putting Antila’s security at risk. We just need one thing on him, my Lords, that is all. Forgive me for calling this so late. You’re all dismissed." The men all stood up and nodded to one another, finding different rooms in the Palace to collapse in.

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"God, I hate this," Halfdans said with an aggravated tone. Following Horace through the filthy outskirts of Antila, Halfdan looked around at the beggars who slept on the street in the slums, lying in their own filth.

"Shut up." Finally, having had enough of his complaints, Horace spun around and grabbed his throat, "Keep your thoughts to yourself and follow behind me." Letting go of his throat, Horace pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and quickly wiped his hand.

"I understand." Halfdan grabbed his throat and silently followed behind. As they neared the edge of the slum, the streets slowly changed. The crumpling building became cleaner and sturdier, whilst the people were less filthy, now resembling human beings who could be approached.

Smelling the air, the subtle smell of water floated through his nose. "We’re close." Horace nodded to Halfdan, making him pull out his dagger. Slipping it up his sleeve, Horace did the same. Casually walking forward, they soon arrived at the port, a place surrounded by Templars and the Severia city guard.

"What are we looking for?" Halfdan cautiously asked as he eyed the security.

"A Silesian trade ship. On their mast, they will have Anton’s Golden Banks Crest." Horace had prepared an escape in advance. Whilst he couldn’t permanently dock a ship within the city, causing too much suspicion, he could have three identical ships rotating every now and then. He had prepared it when he first arrived in Antila, expecting that at some point he would need to escape.

Halfdan looked around and clicked his tongue, "Those from Silesia are being watched the most, followed by those from Chent." Horace also relasied and sighed. Looking around at the far end of the dock, he saw the Golden Bank’s crest. Gesturing to be followed, Horace slowly walked with Halfdan behind him. Along the path, Tempalrs and city guard randomly stopped men as they walked. Those trying to enter a Silesian ship were all stopped before they could board.

"No. Not yet." Horace said with an annoyed tone and turned right down another alley of the dock.

"What’s the matter?"

"All men are being checked. Your accent may be fine to leave with as it isn’t of this continent, but mine is easily Ammary. I haven’t perfected the Silesian or Severian accent yet." Clicking his tongue, Horace sighed and looked around the busy street. His eyes landed on a tailor for women. Halfdan followed his eye line and chuckled, seeing what he saw.

"Are you dressing as a woman again?" It was rare he had the chance to make fun of Horace, and seeing his boss’s face darken made him want to say more. The only thing stopping him was the fear that Horace might kill him if he pushed his luck.

"We have enough gold. Buy a cheap servant’s uniform. I’ll give you my measurements." Horace tapped his throat a few times, whilst going ’ahhhhh’. Halfdan watched in amazement as his tone became softer and pitch higher. "I will deal with my looks." His voice sounds like a soft-spoken lady with a sore throat. In an extended conversation, it would be obvious that Horace was a man, but if he answered questions with short answers and kept his head low, he would be fine.

Looking around, he spotted an inn at the end of the road. "Meet in there after. I’ll order a room under the name John Hayes." Horace walked off to quickly pay for the room. Handing over the money and getting a key, he walked down the street.

Being so near the port, many stores were opened for new arrivals to the city, including many for women’s cosmetics. Clicking his tongue, Horace walked in.

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"Would it be best if I held your arm?" Halfdan seriously asked Horace, who skillfully walked, even whilst wearing small heels.

"No. A servant holds his lady’s items, not her arm." Speaking in his best attempt at a woman’s voice, he held his head low. His looks had been completely changed. With a black wig, heavy makeup that made him look feminine, a neck ribbon that seemed slightly out of place, and a dress that had been stuffed, to the casual observer, he appeared to be a low-ranking noble lady.

Approaching the ship in the distance, Horace lowered his head even deeper and walked past the city guards. With another step, he approached the Tempalrs, who put their hands out to stop him. The city guards stopped Halfdan, and Horace heard him give his name and explain a little about his reason for boarding.

"Name." The Templar coldly ordered Horace.

"Lena Hill." Keeping his words short, he picked through the strand of hair from his wig.’Not suspicious yet. Good.’

"Ammary?" The Templar coldly asked, hearing the name and accent. Horace nodded deeply.

"My father’s orders. He wishes for me to learn."

"On a Silesian trade ship?"

"They are more reliable for small waters. We can also avoid taxes in Silesia with it." Looking through the wig again, he saw the Templar stare at him for a few seconds before turning to his comrade. The other Templar nodded, saying that Horace was the truth.

With a deep sigh, the first Tempalr moved out of the way. "You may board. It will be best in the future if you or anyone from Ammar doesn’t return."

"Thank you." Horace quietly said and boarded the ship. Halfdan followed behind. Walking into the captain’s quarters, a rugged captain sat drinking.

Pulling the wig off, Horace stared at him with deeply cold eyes. "We leave now." His voice was commanding, making the captain stand up straight.

"I understand." The captain ran past and readied his crew before standing at the wheel, watching their ship be pushed from port.