Plans in the Dark
After their emotional reunion, Altair, Feran, and Quartzis remained at Professor Aldemar's house to formulate their next plan. That night, they sat in the Professor's study, illuminated by the dim light of an oil lamp.
"So, you want to find Lazric?" Professor Aldemar began the conversation. His eyes sharply observed Altair and Feran, as if weighing their capabilities.
"Yes," Altair replied firmly. "Do you know where he is?"
Aldemar sighed deeply, then pulled a map from his desk drawer. The map looked old, filled with notes and markings. He spread it out on the table.
"Lazric is indeed special," Aldemar said. "His ability to brew potions and enchant weapons has been recognized as far as the center of the Niaris Empire. Because of that, Duke Alvred is sending him there in the next few days."
Feran asked quickly, his voice tense. "So he hasn't left yet?"
Aldemar nodded. "Correct. This is the route they will take. If you want to save him before he reaches the capital, this is your chance."
Altair and Feran studied the map intently. The route headed north, passing through several small towns before reaching the capital of the Niaris Empire.
"So we can infiltrate at one of these points and take Lazric," Altair murmured, marking one of the small towns.
However, before they could discuss further, Professor Aldemar produced another piece of paper and placed it on the table.
"There's another problem," he said seriously. "Duke Alvred has already made his move. Look at this."
Altair picked up the paper and examined it. It was a wanted poster. Their faces—Altair's and Feran's—were clearly displayed with a large reward for anyone who managed to capture them.
Feran sighed deeply, his face grim. "My hunch was right, he wouldn't let us escape so easily."
"So we have to be even more careful," Altair added in a firm tone.
The three of them began to discuss how to infiltrate the escorting troops who would be taking Lazric. The only logical way was to assume the identities of the soldiers assigned to guard the journey.
"We need at least three uniforms," Feran said, quickly calculating in his mind.
"I can make a sleeping potion," Quartzis said suddenly, his voice soft but determined. "With that, we can incapacitate some of the soldiers without causing a commotion."
Altair and Feran exchanged glances, then nodded. It was a reasonably sound plan.
That night, they prepared the potion and their strategy. However, there was one thing still hanging in the air—Quartzis's decision.
When everything was ready, Quartzis finally spoke.
"Altair, Feran…" his voice sounded a little hesitant. "I've been thinking... I'm not good at this, and I'm just a 15-year-old teenager, what if I'm just a burden?"
Altair looked at his younger brother and offered a small smile. "If you were a burden, you wouldn't be walking on two legs," he said gently.
Quartzis lowered his head. "I'm not as strong as you guys. I'm not a fighter. Honestly, I'm not sure I can survive if I keep staying with you."
Feran approached, then with his large hand, he ruffled Quartzis's hair roughly but affectionately.
"You don't need to be a fighter. You've survived this far, haven't you? That's strong enough for me."
Quartzis looked up slowly, his eyes slightly watery. Feran grinned.
"If you fall, we'll pick you up. So just trust us."
Quartzis nodded slowly, and for the first time that night, he offered a small smile.
That night, they rested in silence, but their hearts were filled with a new determination. The next day, a new journey would begin. With new identities as soldiers of the Niaris Empire, Altair and Feran prepared to infiltrate the troops who would be carrying Lazric.
A new battle awaited them.
Strike in the Dark
Darkness enveloped the narrow alley near the military barracks. Altair, Feran, and Quartzis crouched on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, observing the escorting troops preparing to depart.
From a distance, the clanging of weapons and the rhythmic steps of soldiers echoed between the city's stone buildings. The Niaris Imperial banner fluttered, a symbol of authority that would soon take Lazric away from them.
Altair stared sharply at the barracks. At the main gate, two soldiers stood guard, while dozens of others moved about the courtyard.
"We have to get into their ranks without arousing suspicion," Feran whispered.
"We need disguises," Quartzis replied, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation.
In the corner of the courtyard, three soldiers were seen walking towards the back alley—perhaps to rest or simply avoid duty for a moment.
"Them," Altair pointed. "They're our targets."
Footsteps echoed in the narrow alley. The light of a torch illuminated the faces of the three soldiers chatting casually—unaware of the danger lurking nearby.
Shadows moved quickly.
Feran appeared first. With a swift movement, he elbowed the first soldier in the neck, causing him to stagger before slamming him against the wall.
The second soldier managed to draw a dagger, but Altair was faster—he grabbed the man's wrist, twisted it sharply behind his back, then applied pressure until a bone-cracking sound was heard.
The third soldier opened his mouth to shout. Before a sound could escape, Quartzis sprayed a potion into his face. The liquid evaporated, and the man staggered and fell unconscious.
Silence.
Altair glanced around to make sure no one had seen them.
"Effective," Quartzis murmured, gently kicking the unconscious soldier.
"Quickly, change their clothes," Altair ordered, taking off his cloak and putting on the uniform of the Niaris Imperial troops.
The three of them worked swiftly. Within minutes, all three were disguised as official guards.
Joining the Ranks
The sky began to fade into a bluish-gray. Morning was almost upon them.
Altair, Feran, and Quartzis walked casually towards the convoy preparing to depart. They tried to look like ordinary soldiers, inconspicuous, not suspicious.
However, something felt wrong.
Near the city gate, several soldiers appeared to be gathered around a large board.
Altair glanced at it—and his heart sank.
> Wanted poster.
> Their faces were plastered there.
>
"Damn it…" Feran growled softly.
"The Duke is watching," Altair whispered. "Stay calm. Don't show any panic."
They continued walking with steady steps. However, just as they were about to join the ranks, a heavy voice stopped them.
> "Hey, you!"
>
Feran turned slowly. An officer with sharp eyes and a suspicious expression stood nearby.
"I haven't seen you before."
Feran held his breath. All attention was now focused on him.
Altair tightened his grip on the dagger hidden beneath his cloak. If necessary, he would attack in a matter of seconds.
Feran, known for his extraordinary composure, simply stared blankly at the officer.
"I was just transferred this morning, sir."
The officer narrowed his eyes. His expression did not show complete trust.
For a moment, the tension felt suffocating.
"Don't waste time. We need to leave immediately."
Another voice interjected. A different officer—higher in rank—approached and gestured for them to join the ranks immediately.
The officer who had suspected Feran nodded hesitantly, but finally let them pass.
"That was close…" Quartzis sighed after they joined the ranks without further trouble.
Altair said nothing, but he knew that this was only the beginning.
Ahead, the convoy began to move.
They had now become part of the force taking Lazric to the center of the Niaris Empire.
However, greater challenges awaited them on the journey.