1.5: Infiltration

Estelle strode through the gardens with a confidence she did not feel. Her golden gown felt too long and she had to constantly try not to step on it lest she damage the material, or worse the facade of nobility she was trying so very hard to project. She could feel the two vials hidden in the cole at the back of her neck, the slim glass tubes cold against her skin. She imagined she could feel the one with the Taint inside pressing harder into her neck than the other, reaching for her. Shivering slightly, she walked a little faster.

The gardens were unlit save for the dim moonlight, but even without the broad path she would have had no trouble seeing where she was going. The sculpted mixture of vines and flowers, so vibrant in the sunlight, were now dull, muted. The night sucked the colour from them, leaving them looking grey and dead.

Ahead, Estelle saw a statue outside of a grand building that slowly seeped light and laughter and life. The statue faced the overflowing building in mid-stride, a spear held in his outstretched hand, as if he had been midway through charging the occupants when the lack of light froze him, locked his limbs and stole the fire from his eyes. Estelle hiked up her skirts as she made her way up the stairs, trying not to look down. A Lady knows where her own feet are, and does not trip or stumble. Estelle didn’t understand why they didn’t just wear longer pants.

There was an armed guard standing by the heavy wooden doors. His weapon seemed to shine despite the minimal light outside, the curved blade of the axe appearing spectral. He did not question Estelle’s late arrival to the ball, simply turned and pushed hard against one of the doors before standing aside. Light clawed at the door, pulling it open all the way and bursting out into the darkness, scrambling over the statue and the flowers before escaping into the night. Estelle stepped gracefully—she hoped—inside and the door swung to a close behind her, cutting off her only means of escape.

The crowd before her was a convoluted mess of colours and personalities, with well-dressed nobles criss-crossing each other’s paths at every moment, yet somehow none of them colliding or even breaking stride. It seemed to be in constant motion, each person a part in an incredibly complicated machine. On a raised platform behind the crush of bodies, the Duchess and her husband overlooked the celebrations. High above the couple was a balcony, where she had to be for the plan to work. A man stood with arms crossed, his ripped and pleated sleeves stopping just short of his elbows. His face looked darker than his vest as he surveyed the congregation below. The Captain of the Guard. He would be her main obstacle tonight.

She had a moment of indecision. This plan was crazy. There was absolutely no way she would get away with it. There was no way any of them were escaping this alive. Panic rose from her gut, clutching at her throat and attempting to escape as a scream. She swallowed it down and took a deep breath to centre herself. In the end, it didn’t matter if she escaped or not. What mattered was that she had to succeed. If she didn’t escape, well, that would be one life weighed against thousands. Estelle exhaled, letting her doubts escape with the breath, and set off through the crowd.

She struggled a little at first to anticipate the movements of the people around her, especially in this damned dress, but after a few near bumps she settled mostly into the flow of the crowd. It seemed to swell and flow, an unseen force guiding each person toward and around one another. She felt like a virus, infiltrating the system, not quite in tune with the rest of the organism. By the time she made it to the door on the opposite wall, she found herself flushed and breathless, far more than she would have expected from walking across a room, even one as large as this. She took a moment to regain her composure and make sure her cole was straight before opening the door and slipping through.

The short hallway beyond was almost startlingly dark and it took her eye a moment to adjust, the sharp edges and corners of the walls and the stairs at the end of the hallway lighting up ever so slightly. She walked between the spectral lines, slowing when she heard someone descending the stairs. She ducked into an alcove that would have been nearly invisible but for the lines she could see. A young man with a torch appeared on the stairwell, sharply dressed in a black and crimson uniform.

Damn, she thought to herself. There was only meant to be the Captain on guard tonight, and this would cause… complications. Still… perhaps she could use it to her advantage. She carefully withdrew the vial containing the Taint from the back of her cole, handling it with extreme caution. She shrank back into the alcove as the torch approached, then passed her. She crept from her hiding place and took short, sharp steps to close the distance between them quickly and silently. Looking into the flame drew forth too many lines and hurt her eyes, so she focused instead on the back of his head, each of his short hairs showing as a faint light. Timing her steps with his, Estelle uncapped the vial, reached around the man and attempted to pour as much of the viscous smoke down his throat as she could. Almost immediately, he bucked backwards, knocking her over and sending the vial flying. It didn’t matter. One look at his face told her all she needed to know. His eyes were already lined with darkness and the skin at his throat had swollen from the contact with the Taint. He collapsed to the floor, gasping ineffectually. Estelle backpedalled as fast as she could, scrambling backwards across the stone floor. She examined her hands, praying that none of the Taint had spilled onto her. After a few tense moments, she sighed and lay back down on the cold, hard ground. So far as she could tell, she was clean. For now.

Estelle picked herself up, dusting the dress off as best she could. She felt inside the back of her cole and was relieved to find that the other vial had not shattered. She allowed herself another breath to calm down once more, before leaving the Tainted man behind and ascending the stairs, staying vigilant for stray dress hems. The lines in the stone walls grew gradually clearer as light bloomed up ahead, the stairs opening to the balcony overlooking the ballroom. She hadn’t realised how quiet the hallway had been until the sounds of merriment swelled, washing down the stairs. Silhouetted against the light and laughter was the Captain of the Guard, Pret Deavos. He was facing away from her, thankfully, standing with his hands on the railing before him. His sword sat at his left hip, pistol at his right. He seemed intent on the scene before him so she took her chances, slipping each weapon from its sheath as quietly as she could. She’d barely unholstered the pistol when he reached down for it, nearly knocking it from her hand. She stepped back and pressed against the wall, out of his reach, and pointed the pistol at him. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her body, her hand stayed mercifully still. He looked down at his belt where his sword should be and moved a hand to the scabbard even as he saw that it was empty. Estelle decided to end his confusion by delicately coughing. Deavos whirled to face her and she saw in his eyes his decision to try to grab her, so she cocked the pistol and shook her head. His hair had more than a touch of grey in it, but judging by the rest of him that was due more to stress than age. He might not have quite been in his prime anymore, but he was still definitely solidly built. And, she had to admit, not unattractive.

“I was expecting more from the Captain of the Guard.” She said, trying to sound nonchalant. This was the Captain of the Guard, and she had just disarmed him without a hitch. Something had to go wrong. “You men are all so brutish, so heavy-handed. You don’t even notice when a lighter touch is used.” His face darkened further at her needling. It was perhaps unwise to intentionally antagonise him, but for this to work she needed him emotional.

When he spoke, his voice was rough, gravelly. “How did you get past Marc?”

“Oh dear, that wasn’t the man you sent to look after me, was it?” She brought her eyebrows together in exaggerated sympathy. “I’m afraid he won’t be waking up tonight. Whether he wakes at all… well, that’s up to what you do now. You see, he someone swallowed a lethal dose of the Taint. However, I happen to have a dose of the cure here.” She let the sword lean against the wall and reached into her cole for the other vial. It contained a curious reflection of the other vial, a faintly transparent liquid that danced around itself.

Estelle began to panic when the Captain seemed to lock up. Maybe this hadn’t been the right way to play this. She should have stuck to the plan, let the younger man go and use the Taint on Deavos. It was stupid to change it, stupid—

“For all I know, you’re lying.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying his fear. Estelle didn’t blame him. The Taint was an atrocious sickness, but her mission had to succeed, even with the possible damage the Taint would do here if left unchecked.

She tilted her head, trying to get a read on the man. This was the crux of the conversation. If she failed now…

“Can you really take that chance?” She asked. Then, before he could formulate an answer, she threw the vial towards the stairs and ran headlong for the balcony, leaping off and falling down toward the Duchess and her husband, followed by Deavos’ anguished yell.

Had a few short pieces lately, and I feel like this one sorta makes up for that. Didn't really mean for it to get as long as it did, but I think it worked out. Any feedback is of course welcome.