Severance Lost (Fractal Forsaken Series Book 1)

by Unknown

  “Yes, but now I’ve been inside and know what to expect.”

  “If you are planning on breaking into the Regallo estate again, we need a better plan than hopping the fence and improvising.” Slate knew he was right, but he didn’t have a better plan. Then Rainier smiled at him. “Thankfully, I assumed you’d need to go back there at some point. I’ve been scouting the Regallo estate when Villifor leaves town.”

  “Fractal’s fortune!” Slate slapped the tribesman on the back. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Mrs. Regallo hosts her socialite friends every evening at eight o’clock. The discussions can go late into the evening and involve copious amount of wine.”

  “You create realistic disguises, Rainier, but no one will mistake us for Mrs. Regallo’s friends. We’d be recognized immediately.”

  “No one notices the servants handling the carriages. They drive onto the estate, drop off their employers for an evening of entertainment, and remain in the stable until called upon.”

  “So that gets us into the estate…but then what?”

  “I hope you aren’t too attached to that Sicarius mask…”

  Rainier filled Slate in on the rest of his plan and the two made preparations for their evening. They dressed as servants and Rainier applied makeup to hide Slate’s ghostly complexion. Their supplies for the night’s events were packed into a trunk that was loaded onto a two-wheeled cart appropriated from the merchant downstairs. Slate finished their preparation by piling on a few packages of produce to hide the trunk.

  Rainier identified one of Mrs. Regallo’s friends, Ms. Babblerone, as their mark. She lived nearby and was light on security. Slate pulled the cart through Ravinai and approached the Babblerone estate from the service road adjacent to Rue Street. Rainier headed for the stable. “Let me do the talking. When it comes to striking a deal, the Tallow clan always gets what they want.”

  Slate was actually excited to see the famed negotiating skills of the Tribesman. “Ok, but if things go sideways, I’m doing things my way.”

  “You won’t need to do that.” Rainier thought for a minute and then added, “…but if you do, make sure to use your LEFT hand.”

  Slate laughed and the sound brought the attention of the stable hand. “Can I help you?”

  Rainier gave a desperate look. “I sure hope so…we came to make a trade for some hay.”

  The stable boy looked toward the main house. “I should get the clerk. I just take care of the horses and drive around Ms. Babblerone.”

  “I was actually hoping to trade with you. You see, I didn’t make it to the market in time to buy hay and the only shop left open was the produce stand. I used the money for the hay on this fruit with the hopes that I could trade it with one of the other estates. If you call the clerk, that will make it an official trade between estates and my employer will find out. I can’t have that…one small mistake and I could be kicked out and jobless. Help me out!”

  The stable hand remained skeptical, but he begrudgingly said, “We’ve all been there before. I’ll help you out, but it won’t come cheap. I’m going to need to explain why I have all this fruit.”

  “We normally order fruit tomorrow, so if you could just hold it for a day, I can bring hay tomorrow and no one will ever know the difference…”

  “What’s in it for me?” I’d be in a heap of trouble if I got caught.”

  “You’re right…and I don’t have much to offer…” Rainier hung his head.

  The stable hand shrugged his shoulders and started to turn around. Rainier gave Slate a quick wink. “Wait…there is one more thing I could do for you…”

  The stable hand turned around and waited for the offer. “How would you like a night without work? I know how to handle horses and could drive Ms. Babblerone around tonight…”

  That gave the stable boy pause. “All I have to do is hold onto this cart for a day and give you some hay tonight? And you know how to care for horses?”

  Rainier exhaled in exaggerated relief. “Absolutely, I can prove it to you.” Rainier headed into the stable before his unwitting trade partner changed his mind. He yelled over his shoulder in Slate’s direction, “Go check on the carriage and load up the hay into our cart.”

  The stable hand followed Rainier toward the horses and Slate brought the cart into the carriage house. He unloaded the fruit onto a crate and loaded their supply trunk into the travel compartment of the carriage. He was throwing hay into the two-wheeled cart when Rainier and the stable boy returned.

  “We’ll need some spare clothes with the Babblerone crest on it to make sure we don’t get you in trouble by being out of uniform.” Rainier had gone from desperately in need of a favor to complete control of the conversation without the stable hand noticing.

  “I’ll grab two of them from my quarters…” The stable hand, excited to get a night off work and impressed enough with Rainier’s ability to care for the horses, ran off.

  Slate said to Rainier, “Remind me never to barter with you.”

  “Usually I’m the one that ends up with a night off work.” Rainier grinned and the stable hand ran back to meet them.

  “Put these on.” The stable hand was now fully committed to the ruse. “Pick up Ms. Babblerone at the main entrance of the estate in a few minutes. The butler believes I’ve fallen ill and my two cousins are filling in for me tonight. Now I’m going to see if Sheila is available on my night off. She works mornings in the kitchen. I want to see if I can make her late for work!”

  “Thanks for helping me out…and good luck to you tonight!” Rainier bid the stable hand farewell. He then hooked the horse to the carriage and Slate sat next to him on the carriage seat. Rainier easily handled the reins and a smile of contentment filled his face. “It’s been too long since I’ve driven a horse. My nomadic blood has been stirring these last few months.”

  “I’ll use my own two feet. There wasn’t much use for horses in Pillar. Goats are more sure footed and oxen are better at hauling stone.”

  “Until you ride a horse in an open field with the wind rushing past your face and angry villagers at your back, I’ll just pretend you didn’t say that.” Rainier smiled at the memory as he pulled the horse and carriage to the front entrance of the Babblerone estate where the butler waited.

  “You were nearly late.” The anxious butler admonished Rainier for being on time. “At the Regallo estate, announce her arrival at the gatehouse, escort her to the main entrance, and drive the carriage in back. Wait there with the other drivers until you are summoned to pick up Ms. Babblerone.”

  Rainier responded simply, “Yessir.”

  The doting butler held the door for Ms. Babblerone and accompanied her toward the carriage. Slate could see she was accustomed to such treatment from her dress and the way she walked. She looked rather like a chicken on the farm, with her chest puffed out and tiny little steps due to ridiculously uncomfortable shoes. She also tattered on and on about nonsense. Slate was bored with her before she made it onto her seat.

  When they arrived at the Regallo estate, Rainier pulled up to the guardhouse. “Ms. Babblerone is here to join Mrs. Regallo for a social hour,” he announced formally to the Crimson Guardsman.

  “She is expected.” Rainier dropped Ms. Babblerone at the main entrance with the butler. They then drove around back and joined the other drivers in the stable. Slate and Rainier relaxed on a crate with a view of patrolling guardsmen while the drivers bided their time playing dice. The guardsman on duty walked along the perimeter of the estate but occasionally stopped and remained motionless for long periods of time. Sometimes she double-backed in the direction she had just come. The patrol route took the guardsmen out of view of the stable for a brief period, giving Slate the window he needed to reach the main house undetected.

  “It’s dark enough now. Let’s get our supplies.” Slate discreetly caught Rainier’s ear.

  They walked casually into the carriage house. Slate adjusted the rigging of the carriage while R
ainier engaged a Regallo servant in conversation. “I was just admiring the Regallo crest painted onto the side of the carriage. Can you tell me what it means?”

  “Of course. The Regallo crest has a long and storied tradition. The raven is shown in profile, its gaze scanning the purple expanse beyond it. It symbolizes the Regallos looking over the kingdom…” Thwack. Slate brought the side of his hand down against the base of the proud servant’s neck and he crumbled instantly.

  Rainier asked, “Did you really need to do that? With a little persuasion, he would have given us a tour of the estate.”

  “I couldn’t listen to the story of the Regallo crest for one second longer. Besides, I used my left hand…” That received a quiet chuckle from Rainier before he returned to the task at hand.

  “Ok, let’s go to plan B then. Break out the trunk. I’ll strip the servant.”

  “I like plan B better than plan A anyways,” Slate followed with a smirk as he opened their supply trunk and pulled out layer upon layer of grey wraps and bandages, setting them in a pile by Rainier. He then extricated two lengths of rope, setting one in a pile with the wraps and setting one aside for himself. Next was a set of plain black clothing and Slate tossed them to Rainier. Near the bottom of the trunk was a pack of smelling salts that Slate put in a pocket. That only left one object in the trunk and it filled Slate with trepidation. The Sicarius mask stared up at him from the bottom of the emptied trunk. The words ‘upon penalty of death’ kept ringing through his head.

  In the other corner of the room, Rainier stripped the servant of his Regallo robes and handed them to Slate. He then dressed the unconscious servant in the black clothing from the trunk. Slate switched his Babblerone attire for the Regallo set, hiding a length of rope beneath the robes.

  “It’s time to turn you into the most infamous figure in Malethya.” Slate saw the excitement on Rainier’s face at his words and knew the tribesman was ready for the night’s challenge. Slate took wrap upon wrap of clothing and tied it in a way that created folds within the fabric. Within a few minutes, Rainier transformed from a servant into a close approximation of the Sicarius headmaster. There was only one part of the costume left. Slate lifted the Sicarius mask from the trunk and handed it to Rainier.

  “Are you sure this is smart?” Rainier asked.

  Slate was wondering the same thing. “We need the effect to be real. This is the only way…try it on.” Rainier did and Slate had a hard time looking directly at him. “Besides, the headmaster told me I couldn’t use it for Sicarius missions. Borrowing it to someone else isn’t against the rules…”

  “I’m not sure I’d want to argue semantics with the headmaster, but you’re right. This is the only way it will work.” Rainier took off the mask and handed it back to Slate. “…but you have some work to do first.”

  Slate took the mask and put it on. “If I get caught with this, we don’t deserve our Sicarius training. You’ll have it when the real danger starts.” Rainier looked at Slate’s feet as he spoke to him.

  “How does the mask work again?”

  “It doesn’t make someone invisible, it makes them completely unmemorable. People can see me, but I’m not worth a second thought unless I do something that calls attention to me. So in my current attire…”

  Rainier continued his thought, “…you should appear as a Regallo servant…”

  “…and able to walk directly into a well-lit mansion with guardsmen protecting it.” A mischievous smile crossed Slate’s face as he prepared to leave. “I’ll walk ahead to where I have a view of the patrolling guardsmen. When I signal you, sprint toward the location I jumped the fence last time.” Rainier nodded his understanding and Slate slipped into the night.

  He walked across the back lawn of the estate, trying to look the part of a servant counting the hours until the end of his shift. Through the Sicarius mask, he watched the patrolling guardsmen walk around the edge of servant’s quarters, making Rainier’s path clear. Slate signaled toward the stable.

  Rainier slung the unconscious servant over his shoulder and moved as quickly as he could toward Slate, forming a strange silhouette in the light from the stable. After a few excruciating seconds, Rainier crossed the lawn and regained cover in the bushes without attracting notice of the patrolling guardsmen.

  “Next time, if you decide to knock someone out, you are carrying the body.” Rainier whispered to Slate while trying to catch his breath.

  “Sorry, it wouldn’t have worked with the costume.” Rainier grunted to indicate concession of the point even if he didn’t like the circumstances. Slate gave him a minute or two to catch his breath, not wanting to push his luck. “Do you see that window on the first floor? It has its light out and it will be your best entry point. I’ll see you inside in a few minutes. Don’t forget to tie the rope to the top of the fence. We might need a quick exit.”

  Slate left the bushes and walked straight to the servant’s entrance. He opened the door and saw the clerk at the entryway. Slate nearly froze in fear but forced himself to keep walking. The clerk looked up from his books briefly but then returned to his work without a second thought. Slate could get used to this Sicarius mask. He turned into the hallway and started counting doors. At the third door, he entered a dark room.

  Slate waited and allowed his eyes to adjust to the surroundings. Even in the darkness, he could make out that he was in a girl’s room, and that it hadn’t been touched in years. He noticed the bedposts twisted upwards with sharp spikes sticking out of it. Atop the bedpost was a rose in partial bloom. This must have been Rose Regallo’s room. All pictures and signs of Rose had been removed. The bedposts must have been an oversight in the family’s haste to lock the door and forget the existence of their estranged daughter. He crept across the room and opened the window, thankful the infrequent use didn’t result in creaks and groans to alert the patrols. Through the open window, Slate motioned toward Rainier’s position.

  Rainier hauled the unconscious servant from the bushes and Slate helped bring the body through the window. Rainier jumped into the room, leaving the window open because he would need it later. “Just to the right of this room is a servant’s stairwell. The kitchen is closed for the night, so there shouldn’t be much traffic. I’ll check to make sure no one is around and then follow me upstairs to Mrs. Regallo’s room. It’s the third door on the left. We know it will be empty since she is entertaining guests.”

  The awakening servant stirred on the ground and released a soft groan. Rainier bent down and gave a light chop to the base of his neck, sending him back into a deep sleep. “Then I get rid of this dead weight…let’s get it over with.”

  Slate listened through the doorway, but the giggling of women from the adjacent great room were the only sounds. Slate walked over to the stairs, and not hearing footsteps above, signaled Rainier to carry the servant into the stairwell. Slate saw the tribesman’s exhaustion, but it couldn’t be helped. A door closed on the second floor, so Slate ascended the remaining stairs, ready to take out any unfortunate observers. The footsteps belonged to Lattimer. He strode down the hallway with his head buried in a book, mumbling to himself. The only bits Slate picked up were “…boring family histories…” and “…I’d rather read a clerk’s ledger…” Most importantly, he wasn’t bothered by the sight of a servant in the hallway and he didn’t go down the service stairwell. Slate pretended to dust some of the decorative touches adorning the Regallo estate, which left him in close enough proximity to hear Lattimer address the guardsmen outside his father’s office. “Return this book to my father’s library. It was even less interesting than a conversation with Ms. Babblerone.” Slate had just located Brannon’s personal library.

  When Lattimer left the hallway, Slate helped Rainier bring the servant into Mrs. Regallo’s room. They were completely exposed for this section of the mission if anyone were to happen upon them. His heart raced as they passed the second door and the third door opened silently into blessed blackness and safety. It
was amazing how small parts of a mission like a thirty foot walk down a hallway could bring such stress, but that was life in Sicarius.

  In Mrs. Regallo’s room, lit only by the night sky from a window he knew very well, Slate took off the Sicarius mask and handed it to Rainier. “It’s your time…be careful first and convincing second.”

  “I’ll do both.” Rainier answered using two different octaves in his voice. Rainier’s looped a length of rope through the leg of a heavy dresser and opened the window.

  “I’ll see you shortly. Fractal’s blessings, Slate…” Rainier climbed through the window and rapelled down the mansion’s wall.

  Slate pictured Rainier dropping to the ground, squeezing through the window to Rose’s room and sneaking into the closed kitchen, which had direct access to the great room. Shortly after, an imitation of the headmaster’s voice shouted loudly throughout the estate. “The secrets of the Regallos shall be revealed. No place is safe from the Sicarius headmaster!”

  The guardsman outside of Brannon’s office hurdled the catwalk bannister and landed on the floor of the great room in pursuit of Rainier. This was his chance.

  Slate slipped into Brannon’s unguarded office carrying the unconscious servant on his shoulder. He stole a quick look down at the great room to see women clutching each other in fear and guardsmen emerging from their posts to join the hunt for the headmaster. Rainier’s diversion had worked, buying Slate a few minutes.

  Slate scattered objects in Brannon’s office around the room, making it look disheveled, and stuffing a few of the more expensive items into the servant’s pockets. Outside the room, the commotion was dying down, so Slate’s time was running out. Slate broke the smelling salts from his pocket and wafted them beneath the servant’s nose. Then he crawled beneath Brannon’s imposing desk and waited.

  The groggy servant groaned as he started to rouse. The servant made it to his feet and stumbled toward one of the walls, trying to make sense of his current situation. Slate thought he had awoken him too soon when the door opened. “Intruder!” yelled the guardsman. The servant didn’t even manage a rebuttal before being brutally tackled to the ground. The guardsmen hauled the servant to his feet, found the stolen property stashed in his pockets, and marched him out of the room. Slate heard the guardsman addressing the other patrols. “I’ve got one, boys. This one was snitching objects from Brannon’s office. Take him to the guardhouse for questioning and call Brannon.”