Chapter : 1473

  Lloyd leaned back, adjusting his new robes. He had ditched his fine silks and tailored coats. He was now wearing the loose, layered robes typical of a Zakarian scholar. They were made of rougher fabric, dyed in earth tones—saffron and deep blue. He wore a turban wrapped in the Zakarian style, concealing his silver hair. He had even applied a subtle dye to his skin to darken it slightly, matching the complexion of the southern desert folk.

  He picked up a pair of round, wire-rimmed spectacles he had crafted. They had plain glass lenses, but they changed his face completely, softening his sharp features, making him look bookish and harmless.

  "Doctor Zayn," he practiced, pitching his voice slightly higher, adding a lilt to his accent. "A humble seeker of knowledge. A healer of the people. I have no interest in politics, good sir. I am but a student of the biological arts."

  He looked at his reflection in the carriage window. It was convincing. He looked soft. He looked like a man who would faint at the sight of blood, which was ironic considering he had butchered a demon god a few weeks ago.

  "The key to a good cover," Lloyd lectured, "is boredom. We want to be the most boring people at the border. We don't want to be mysterious. Mysterious is suspicious. We want to be mundane. A doctor looking for rare herbs. A bodyguard doing a job. An assistant carrying the bags. We are background characters."

  He pointed at the luggage stacked beside Jasmin.

  "That trunk contains medical supplies. Real ones. Herbs, bandages, salves. And underneath the false bottom, enough high-grade explosives to level a city block. Just in case."

  Jasmin looked at the trunk nervously. "Is it... safe?"

  "Relatively," Lloyd said. "Just don't drop it. Or shake it. Or look at it too hard."

  "Comforting," she muttered.

  The carriage slowed. Lloyd peeked out the curtain. Ahead, the road narrowed as it passed between two massive cliffs. A stone fortress sat in the gap—the Gray Pass. The border of Altamira.

  "Showtime," Lloyd said. He put on his spectacles. He slumped his posture, losing three inches of height and all of his military bearing. He rubbed his hands together nervously.

  "Remember," he whispered. "Zayn. Jia. Kasim. We are nobody. We know nothing. We just want to find some rare moss."

  He looked at Jasmin. "Mouse mode."

  Jasmin shrunk into herself. Her eyes went wide and fearful.

  He looked at Ken. "Statue mode."

  Ken went still, his face a slab of granite.

  Lloyd took a deep breath. He let the anxiety of the situation show on his face, channeling it into his character.

  "Let's go get yelled at by some guards," Doctor Zayn said with a nervous titter.

  ----

  The carriage halted at the iron gates of the Gray Pass. The Altamiran banner—a black hawk on a field of crimson—snapped in the wind above them. The guards here were not the polite, bored soldiers of Bethelham. They were Altamiran border troops: heavily armored, grim-faced, and notoriously suspicious.

  A sergeant with a scar running through his beard marched up to the carriage. He banged on the door with the pommel of his sword.

  "Out!" he barked. "Inspection!"

  The door opened. Lloyd stumbled out, nearly tripping on his own robes. He clutched a satchel to his chest as if it contained the crown jewels.

  "Oh! Goodness! Yes, yes, of course!" Lloyd stammered, his Zakarian accent thick and wavering. He bowed repeatedly, too low, too fast. "Greetings, brave officers! Peace be upon you! I am Zayn. Doctor Zayn. From Rizvan."

  Jasmin climbed out after him, keeping her head down, clutching the side of the carriage. She looked like she was about to cry. It was a magnificent performance.

  Ken stepped down last. He moved slowly, heavily. He stood behind Lloyd and crossed his arms, staring over the sergeant's head at the distant horizon.

  The sergeant looked them over with sneering contempt. He saw a flustered academic, a scared girl, and a dumb muscle-for-hire.

  "Papers," the sergeant demanded.

  Lloyd fumbled in his robes. He dropped a scroll. He scrambled to pick it up, dusting it off frantically. "Here! Here! All in order, I assure you. Stamped by the Zakarian Ministry of Health. I am on a pilgrimage! A botanical pilgrimage!"

  The sergeant snatched the papers. He pretended to read them, though Lloyd suspected the man could barely spell his own name.

  "Botanical pilgrimage?" the sergeant scoffed. "In Altamira? We have rocks and snow, scholar. Not flowers."

  Chapter : 1474

  "Ah, but the Iron-Root Fungus!" Lloyd exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with fake fanatical interest. "It grows only on the northern slopes! A sovereign remedy for gout! I have heard that Lord... ah... Lord Vargus suffers from the gout? I hoped to offer my services!"

  Name-dropping a local noble was a calculated risk. It showed he was harmlessly ambitious, looking for patronage.

  The sergeant grunted. "Lord Vargus is dead. Died last winter."

  "Oh," Lloyd deflated. "Oh dear. My condolences. Well... surely someone else has gout? It is a very common affliction among the high-born..."

  He trailed off, looking pathetic.

  The sergeant lost interest in him. He walked over to Jasmin. "And you, girl? What's your story? You look like you're hiding something."

  Jasmin squeaked. She actually squeaked. She hid behind Ken’s massive arm.

  "She is Jia," Lloyd interjected quickly. "My... ah... assistant. She mixes the poultices. Very shy. Country girl. Terrified of swords. Please, sir, don't frighten her, she drops the beakers when she shakes."

  The sergeant laughed cruel. "Pathetic."

  He turned to Ken. "And the mute?"

  "Kasim," Lloyd said. "He... hits things. When I tell him to. Mostly he carries the luggage."

  The sergeant walked around Ken. He poked Ken’s chest plate with a finger. Ken didn't blink. He didn't move. He didn't breathe.

  "Strong," the sergeant muttered. "Dumb as a rock, I bet."

  He waved to his men. "Search the carriage."

  The soldiers swarmed the vehicle. They opened the trunks. They rummaged through the clothes. One of them opened the medical chest. He sniffed a jar of pungent ointment and recoiled, coughing.

  "Smells like piss!" the soldier yelled.

  "It is concentrated fox urine!" Lloyd cried helpfully. "Excellent for rheumatism!"

  The soldiers stopped searching. They didn't want to touch the "fox urine." Lloyd’s trap—making the luggage disgusting and boring—had worked. They didn't find the false bottom with the explosives.

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  The sergeant handed the papers back to Lloyd.

  "You have a thirty-day pass," he said. "Stick to the main roads. Don't go near the military camps. And if I catch you selling snake oil, I'll cut off your hands."

  "Understood! Crystal clear!" Lloyd bowed again. "Blessings upon you! Blessings upon your house!"

  "Get out of here," the sergeant spat.

  Lloyd scrambled back into the carriage. Jasmin followed, looking like she had just escaped a dragon. Ken climbed up to the driver's seat.

  With a lurch, the carriage rolled forward, passing under the heavy iron portcullis. The shadow of the gate fell over them, then receded.

  They were in.

  Inside the carriage, the frantic energy vanished instantly. Lloyd sat up straight. He took off his glasses and wiped them with a calm, steady hand.

  Jasmin let out a long, shuddering breath. "I thought I was going to faint."

  "You were perfect," Lloyd said softly. "The squeak was a nice touch."

  "I wasn't acting," she admitted.

  Lloyd looked out the window. The landscape of Altamira was harsh, gray, and forbidding. It looked like a land built for war.

  "We are ghosts now," Lloyd said. "Zayn, Jia, and Kasim. Lloyd Ferrum does not exist here."

  He looked at the map in his mind.

  "We head north," he said. "To the capital. To the Orchid House."

  The carriage rattled on, carrying three ghosts into the heart of the enemy nation. The mission had officially begun.

  The wheels of the carriage clattered loudly against the cobblestones as they finally rolled through the massive iron gates of Saber, the capital city of Altamira. It had been a long, dusty, and frankly, incredibly boring journey from the border. Lloyd Ferrum, currently disguised as the humble and slightly hunchbacked Zakarian scholar "Doctor Zayn," peered through the dusty curtains of the carriage.

  "Finally," Lloyd muttered, adjusting his fake spectacles that kept sliding down his nose. "If I had to spend one more hour looking at gray rocks and dead trees, I was going to invent a spell to blow up mountains just to change the scenery."

  Across from him sat "Jia"—Jasmin—who looked like she was about to vibrate out of her skin. She was clutching her bag so tightly her knuckles were white. Next to the door sat "Kasim"—Ken Park—who was doing his best impression of a very large, very dangerous piece of furniture.

  "Relax, Jia," Lloyd whispered, pitching his voice to the higher, reedier tone of Doctor Zayn. "You look like you just stole the crown jewels. We are just simple travelers. Boring travelers. The most interesting thing about us is my collection of fungal ointments."

  Chapter : 1475

  Jasmin let out a shaky breath. "I'm trying, Doctor. But the guards... they looked at us like they wanted to eat us."

  "That is just the Altamiran hospitality," Lloyd said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They look at everyone like that. It's probably a national pastime. Like competitive frowning."

  They passed into the city proper. Saber was impressive, Lloyd had to admit. It was built on a series of rising plateaus, with the royal palace sitting at the very top like a crown of black stone. The architecture was sharp, militaristic, and imposing. Everything was built from dark granite and iron. It looked less like a city for living and more like a fortress that people just happened to inhabit.

  The streets were crowded. Merchants shouted, carts rattled, and soldiers marched in perfect formation. The noise was deafening.

  "So loud," Jasmin whispered.

  "Capital cities are always loud," Lloyd noted. "It is the sound of money moving around. And speaking of money, we need to get to the Merchant Quarter. Our contact is supposed to be running an inn called 'The Rusty Compass.' A charming name. It suggests tetanus and bad directions."

  Lloyd tapped the wall of the carriage to signal the driver. They navigated through the winding streets, moving away from the imposing military districts and towards the smell of spices, unwashed bodies, and roasted meat that defined the trade district.

  The carriage eventually pulled up to a building that looked slightly less like a prison than the others. A wooden sign swung above the door, depicting a compass that was, indeed, painted a rusty orange color.

  "Here we go," Lloyd said. "Showtime. Remember the roles. I am the brain, Kasim is the muscle, and you are the... well, you are the luggage carrier. Try not to look like you can kill a man with your thumb."

  They stepped out of the carriage. The air in Saber was different than in the North. It was drier, sharper. It smelled of coal smoke and industry.

  Lloyd paid the driver with a few silver coins, making a show of counting them twice with shaking hands. "Thank you, good sir. Blessings on your wheels. May they never... fall off."

  The driver spat on the ground and drove off without a word.

  "Friendly," Lloyd noted.

  He turned to the inn. It was a three-story building made of dark wood and stone. The windows were small and grimy. It didn't look like a place where a high-value spy would hide, which meant it was perfect.

  "Kasim," Lloyd said, pointing at their heavy trunks. "The heavy lifting, if you please. My scholar's back is not built for manual labor."

  Ken grunted—a perfect, monosyllabic sound—and hoisted two massive trunks as if they were filled with feathers. Jasmin grabbed the smaller bags, keeping her head down, her shoulders slumped in the perfect posture of a downtrodden servant.

  Lloyd led the way, pushing open the door. The inside of The Rusty Compass was dim and smelled strongly of ale and stew. It was early afternoon, so the common room was mostly empty, save for a few merchants hunched over their cups.

  Behind the bar stood a man who looked like he had been carved out of an old oak tree. He was bald, with a thick gray beard and a scar running from his ear to his jaw. He was wiping a glass with a rag that looked dirtier than the floor.

  This was the contact. Or at least, Lloyd hoped it was. If not, this was going to be a very awkward conversation.

  Lloyd approached the bar, putting on his best "nervous smile."

  "Greetings, good innkeeper," Lloyd chirped. "I am Doctor Zayn. I seek lodging. Quiet lodging. My nerves are quite frail."

  The innkeeper looked at him. He looked at Ken. He looked at Jasmin. His eyes were hard, calculating.

  "We have rooms," the innkeeper grumbled. "Two silvers a night. Meals extra. Don't cause trouble."

  Lloyd nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, of course. No trouble. I am here for the... ah... the climate. I hear the winds in Saber sing a very specific song."

  This was the code. It was a stupid code, in Lloyd's opinion, but spies loved their poetry.

  The innkeeper didn't blink. He stopped wiping the glass. He leaned forward slightly.

  "The winds don't sing here," the innkeeper said, his voice dropping an octave. "They only whisper to those who know the tune of the Iron Mountain."

  Lloyd suppressed a sigh. The countersign. "And the mountain only answers when the moon is red."

  Chapter : 1476

  The tension in the innkeeper's shoulders vanished instantly. He nodded once, a sharp, precise movement that didn't fit a simple bartender.

  "The private wing is open," the innkeeper said. "Follow me."

  He came out from behind the bar. He didn't look at the other patrons. He led them toward a sturdy door at the back of the common room.

  "My name is Garris," the man said as he unlocked the door. "I owe a debt to the North. The debt is old, but my memory is good."

  "We appreciate the hospitality," Lloyd said, dropping the nervous tremor in his voice just a fraction.

  Garris led them down a narrow hallway and up a flight of stairs. The wood creaked under Ken's weight. At the end of the hall was a heavy, reinforced door. Garris unlocked it with a large iron key.

  "This entire floor is yours," Garris said. "Three rooms. A private sitting area. There is a back exit that leads to the alley. The walls are thick. No one can hear you scream. Or sing. Whatever you do."

  "Perfect," Lloyd said. "We prefer not to scream if we can help it."

  Garris handed Lloyd the key. "I will bring food myself. Do not eat anything unless I hand it to you personally. This city... it has ears. And teeth."

  "Understood," Lloyd said.

  Garris looked at Lloyd, then at Ken. "You are walking into a fire, boy. I hope you brought water."

  "We brought something better," Lloyd said with a small, dangerous smile. "We brought a hammer."

  Garris grunted, clearly not understanding, and walked away.

  Lloyd stepped into the room. It was dusty, the furniture was old, and the curtains were moth-eaten.

  "Home sweet home," Lloyd deadpanned. "I think I see a rat in the corner. Let's call him Steve. Steve is now our roommate."

  ----

  Once the heavy door was bolted shut and Ken had performed a thorough sweep of the rooms for listening devices—finding none, thankfully—the atmosphere in the suite changed. The masks dropped. Lloyd took off his fake glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He straightened his posture, shedding the hunch of Doctor Zayn.

  "Alright," Lloyd said, his voice returning to its normal, commanding tone. "We are in. Phase one is complete. Nobody died. Nobody got arrested. I call that a resounding success."

  Jasmin dropped the bags on the floor and collapsed onto a dusty armchair. "My heart feels like it's going to explode," she admitted. "Did you see the way that guard looked at me? I thought he knew. I thought he could see right through my act."

  "He was looking at you because you were acting like you were hiding a stolen chicken in your dress," Lloyd said, walking over to the window and peering through a crack in the shutters. "You need to relax, Jasmin. Being invisible isn't about looking guilty. It's about being boring. Nobody looks twice at boring."

  Ken Park was already unpacking the "medical supplies." He opened the false bottom of the heavy trunk and began to lay out items on the table. Not stethoscopes or bandages, but components for rifles, small explosives, and daggers.

  "The perimeter is secure," Ken stated, his voice flat. "The window overlooks an alley. Good for escape. Bad for snipers. The door is solid oak. I will reinforce it."

  "Good," Lloyd said. "We aren't planning on fighting here, but plans have a habit of exploding in my face."

  He turned away from the window and looked at his team. They were deep in enemy territory. The capital of Altamira was a fortress of stone and steel, filled with people who hated them. And they were here to steal a prisoner from a secret facility they hadn't even located yet.

  It was, objectively, the worst plan he had ever come up with.

  "Let's review the situation," Lloyd said, pacing the small room. The floorboards creaked. "We are in Saber. We have a base. We have identities. Now we need the target."

  "The note said 'Orchid House'," Jasmin said, sitting up straighter. "We just need to find where it is."

  "If only it were that simple," Lloyd sighed. "You don't put a sign on a secret facility that creates biological weapons. 'Welcome to the Orchid House, Please Wipe Your Feet.' It will be hidden. It will be off the books. It might not even be called that officially."

  "So how do we find it?" Jasmin asked.

  "We hunt," Lloyd said. "But not with swords. We hunt with information."