Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 23: A Night to Remember

One hundred heads nodded in agreement. Civis walked up to the nearest Greenhorn and inspected his chainmail coif, giving the man a sharp glare.

"That means no chain. No plate. Leather only. Nothing that can jingle, clang, or otherwise make a sound by movement. If we get caught, we die. Understood?"

Civis let the thought sink in before he continued. "We leave in thirty minutes. Be prepared."

By the time allotted, the men had all stripped down into their leathers. Chainmail and lamellar plates were wrapped in sheepskin and stuffed into their packs. Axes sheathed, shields buckled, anything remotely metal strapped down. There would be no room for error this time.

Civis convened with the other officers crowding around the map. Dux's hands were a whirl as he dictated orders, jaw clenching and unclenching like a vice.

"Nox, take your men northwest along the canals. Try to use the under-wharf for cover." Dux signed, tracing a finger over the map. "Civis, I want you to go southwest through Phosphoro Harbour. Plenty of cover along the alleyways. Stay clear of Gray Hogs. That place is still buzzing with activity."

Dux gave Civis a look for longer than he liked. The anger was gone from his eyes, though. He was all business now. Whatever dispute they were having was tabled for the time being. Civis could at least respect that. He nodded as well.

"Good," Dux continued to sign. "I want you all at the Acropolis before daybreak. No heroics, no last stands. I don't care how you do it. Just do it."

"Yes, sir." Nox and Civis signed. And that was that. Dux broke off to his group, and soon the warehouse was less a score of men. Nox gave one last smile to Civis before he left as well, leaving Civis alone with his men.

He turned to the group. They watched him with hopeful and tired eyes. Civis felt the fatigue tugging at him as well. No one had slept peacefully tonight. Hells, no one had slept peacefully for the past month. The Vangen had done more in a day than most did in an entire campaign. Ever since, they had defeated the Dargon and returned home to the mess they were in now.

For a moment, Civis felt pulled back in time, when he had forsaken his vows as an Inquisitor and had led the People's Rebellion. The citizens of Byzantia had looked at him with the same hopeful expression as if he alone was their savior to the Empresses' tyranny. How foolish he had been to think that he could. No one man can ever change something as bloated and immotile as an empire. And now that bastard Black Minister, Tyrannus, had taken his rebellion and twisted it into his rebel army.

The very thought nearly sent Civis into a conniption. He resolved instead to give a sad sigh. "Well, no time like the present." He signed.

Every water bordering city has a harbor. Phosphoro Harbor was what most harbors inspired to be. Byzantia was known as the crown jewel of all cities, sitting not only in the center of the Empire's borders but also in the known world.

Stretching over a thousand meters across the southern districts, where the city met the Album Sea, the Phosphoro was an amalgamation of shipyards, wharves, warehouses, and peddler shops that was more a chaotic mishmash than structured order, creating alleyways large enough for a small army to march through.

A cold wind had swept in northward, bringing with it the crisp smell of sea air and the pungent odor of fish shit. A unique fragrance that left Civis sniffling. He kept the men low and slow, shying away from any light source and utilizing the alleyways to their utmost efficiency.

A tactic that Civis was all too familiar using. After having led men who were less used to a weapon than the average conscript, stealth fared better than open combat. For years he had caused havoc in Byzantia, leading raids against the Empire's weakest positions. It had worked for the most part. That is until his luck had run out.