He returned, more or less, to where it all began – the secret bunker beneath the steel factory in Taelliwey. He and Hazel had worked the Piae Tovuus heist here, and in the months they spent together they fell in love.
Upon discovering Christel’s disappearance, the others had a new decision to make; stop Christel or leave him be. Devin convinced them of the latter and a new agreement was made. He and Juliet found Christel in the bunker, snoozing over a pile of papers with a cup of coffee still in his hands. He woke easily and sat up, drowsy-eyed, with a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. “Devin, what you doing here?”
Devin sat down beside him. “Did you really think I was going to let you pull off this heist on your own? We have Juliet here too.”
Christel smiled. “I could have done it alone… maybe. But I’m sure glad you’re here. We have a lot of work to do.”
They stayed long into the night working on their plan and preparing the necessary materials. The three thieves sat around a table smothered with blueprints and diagrams stained with coffee, they drew up patrol rosters based on Devin’s prior knowledge and the reconnaissance Christel performed the day before. Slowly but surely the plan came together.
“It’s not going to be quick and clean like the old days,” Christel explained to Devin. “The only way in and out of the palace is the north-east wing where across the street is a building tall enough to allow us to zip line over the outer fence. The guards on the roof only check the lower street ever five minutes. This is our escape route. Getting in is going to be harder. Every day an angry mobs stands outside the main outer gate of the palace to protest; I say we let their voices be heard. On the other side of the gate are ten guards, not enough to stop all the people outside should they get in. We use a controlled explosive to blow the locks on the gate and then we use the mob as cover to get us inside. Once we’re in we’ll head upstairs to the king’s chamber – which will probably be locked but that should be a problem – where we take the stone from the crown. After that it’s just a matter of getting to a window on the north-east wing where we can zip-line out of the palace.”
Devin nodded in agreement. “It’s not our usual style but it’ll do. Besides, if we don’t blow down that gate the Surian’s will do it sooner or later, or perhaps some other faction within the city.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t busted in already,” Christel went on.
“It’s because they’re scared. If we open that gate people will die, but this is war so it can’t be helped.”
Christel faced Juliet. “When we get inside try not to concern yourself with the radicalists. Remember, they chose to get themselves involved. What matters is find the crown; better a few radicalists die than the entire continent.”
Juliet smiled solemnly. “Don’t worry about me. In the time I spent under Sam’s command I killed five people in combat. That’s more than you, thief.”
“Let’s just pray it doesn’t have to be six by the time the night is out.”
Over the span of one winter a foul darkness had enveloped Taelliwey. While her armies were fighting to the east and south, her people grew restless; some made a stand against the tyranny of the king, others turned to the crime lords of the city’s underworld, and others tried to flee. The city had changed since the last time Christel was here, as though the colour and life had been sucked away.
He and Jules said farewell to Devin – who remained at the extraction point – and then made their way through the angry crowds to reach the main gate. Surprisingly Christel felt butterflies in his stomach. I never get nervous before a heist. He wasn’t sure if he could even call this a heist. The massive iron fence rattled like a chain as the mob banged their fists against it. There were desperate cries of, “Bring our sons home!” and “End the madness!”
When they reached the gate Christel handed one of the small explosives to Jules with an assuring nod. “Try not let them see you,” he said. He shouldered his way forward and caught a glimpse of the ten guards, beads of sweat on their hardened faces. They were fathers, sons, brothers and husbands. Don’t do that to yourself, Christel. Just plant the bomb! He lowered his gaze and placed the explosive against the lock, Juliet did the same to the hinges on the other side and they quickly stepped away. A moment later the devices flared brightly with searing heat – two or three nearby rioters were badly burned – and the lock and hinges mantled away. There was a confused moment of silence as the gate toppled over. A rioter fired a pistol into the sky and shouted, “This city belongs to the people!” He led the charge into the palace and Christel and Juliet buried themselves within the hoard.
The ten guards stood firm and immediately fired their rifles into the ravaging stampede of people. Christel tried to stay low. He had to reach the palace before the crowd was dispersed. A bullet tore through the man in front of him; warm blood splattered across his cheek as the man collapsed with a harrowing cry, only to be trampled by the men and women behind him. The first line of guards was overwhelmed and, as a stream of fresh soldiers passed though the palace doors, more angry civilians stormed through the ruined gates. The crowd dispersed as riflemen from the roof and windows fired at those below. On the steps leading to the massive palace doors Christel found Juliet. “The people’s militia will arrive soon but for now we have to use the crowd as cover.”
The inside of the palace had turned into a battleground. The marble floor was already slippery with blood and gun-smoke clouded around the chandelier. The clang or swords and screams reverberated off the walls and Christel could hardly hear himself talk. A guard jumped at him. It was so sudden that he was almost disarmed, but he jumped back – almost slipping on blood – and parried the cut, countering with a slash to the knee. He didn’t finish his opponent, but instead took Juliet’s hand and made a break for the stairs. As expected the stairwell was too tight and already occupied by clashing civilians and guards. Christel tossed two smoke bombs. “Cover your mouth!” he said to Juliet, as the bombs exploded in a dense cloud. The fighting on the stairwell stopped, followed by an eruption of coughing and wheezing. Christel and Juliet slipped by and arrived on the top floor.
It was quieter here than downstairs. The grand hallway remained clean but void of guards – they were all downstairs fighting – so that the sound of battle below was just incomprehensible noise. Christel was glad the nightmare of the mob was over. “I didn’t see the king,” he said, as he paced through the hall towards the king’s chamber. “Based on the lack of guards up here he must have escaped through some secret tunnel.”
Juliet brushed her blonde streak of hair behind her ear. Christel was surprised by her composure, but forgot that she had been a soldier for over a year now. “I think we just ended the war,” she said, a little dazed by the concept.
“No, it’ll drag on a little longer still.”
Two men heavily clad in silver armour stood outside the king’s chamber, which was locked. They carried pikes as well as a sword on their belts. Christel stopped. Someone’s still inside, he realised.
The guards noticed him and went into battle stance. “Stay back peasants!” one shouted. “You have no business being here.”
Christel continued walking towards them, closing the gap. “Tell that to the guys downstairs. Look, we just came to pick something up. Can you help us out?” Suddenly the closest guard lunged forward, thrusting his pike at Christel’s belly. Christel stepped aside and caught the pole. Devin had invented something for him for just this occasion; it was a gaseous toxin expelled from a device attached to the wrist. Christel sprayed it in the guard’s face and he passed out immediately. Juliet used the same device on the other guard. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?” Christel said as he collected the keys from the guard’s belt. “Devin designed it to mess with the victim’s head. If they wake up they won’t remember anything.”
“He really is quite handy.”
“Oh I’d be helpless without him.” He unlocked the door. “Don’t tell him I said that.” The king’s chamber was in as much of a state of disarray as the rest of the palace. Documents were scattered, a cup of wine had been spilt over the desk, and a chair was laying on its side. Christel knew someone was hiding here, and he decided to draw them out. “So this is where the king does his paperwork. Not too shabby. I’m surprised his paper weights are massive diamonds.”
A gun was shot from the neighbouring room and the bullet whizzed past Christel and exploded into the wall. Christel drew his pistol spun around and caught a woman in his sights. Her eyes were red with tears and she was trembling, holding a pistol with both hands. Christel straightened when he realised it was the king’s daughter, Princess Elena, and she was stricken with fear.
Christel did not lower his weapon. “This complicates things. It’s the princess,” he said to Juliet.
Princess Elena stammered. “Just leave. Get out! Or I’ll… I’ll…”
“Relax princess,” said Christel. “We just want the crown. We’re not going to hurt you.”
Princess Elena lowered her weapon. “So you’re just looters?”
“Looters!” Christel scoffed. “Look, we just need the crown. It’s a matter of life and death… Argh, I don’t have time to explain. Jules, watch her.”
Juliet nervously pointed her gun at the princess. “I’m so sorry about this M’lady. Oh god… I’m holding a royal princess at gun point.”
“You’re doing fine,” Christel said, as he scanned the chamber. He found the crown resting upon a pedestal and a velvet cushion. The Spirit Stone within emitted a dazzling purple light that seemed to swim within its core; from the light Christel sensed a disturbing presence, as if he were kneeling before someone with unlimited power. He lifted the crown – the gold made it heavier than it looked – and brought it to the centre room.
The princess scowled at him. “How dare you touch my father’s crown!”
Walking away with the crown would draw too much attention to them so Christel placed it on the floor and dropped a bookcase on it. The princess shrieked but he ignored her. Now that the crown was bent it was it easier for Christel to jimmy out the stone. The jewel popped out reluctantly and landed in his hand. “We have it. Let’s go.”
He would have left right away but Juliet stopped him. “Christel, we can’t just leave her to them. They could kill her.”
By now the princess was sitting on her father’s bed, sobbing, and staring in remorse at the broken crown. “Oh, how did it all crumble so quickly?” she whimpered. “I have failed. I have failed my country and my people!”
Out of pity Christel agreed. “Fine, we’ll take her with us.” He took the princess by the arm and she was too defeated to resist. “You haven’t failed yet, princess, we’re getting you out of here.”
“I want to stay,” she argued, as they ran down the grand hallway to the northern end of the palace. “My people need me…”
“Alive,” Christel finished. “There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about, M’lady. I’ll explain it later.”
They reached the highest window of the northern end and orange ways of dusk painted the buildings across from them. Christel looked though his monocular and found Devin waiting on the fourth floor of the opposite building; he gave them a thumbs-up and Christel prepared his rope-gun. He fired it out the window and the tether sailed across the street, creating a zip-line between the two buildings. Juliet was the first to go out the window and glide to safety, and then, upon Christel’s encouragement, Princess Elena. Christel observed the beauty of the Spirit Stone in his hand for a moment; it power was immaculate. I’ll have you back soon, my love. He hooked himself up to the rope and zip-lined out of the burning palace.
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