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Chapter 69 – Below the Armory
The south wing of the keep slept under darkness. Torches in the upper corridors burned low, casting just enough light for passing guards but leaving the lower stairs in shadow. Kairo and Elira moved silently, cloaks drawn, boots muffled by the worn rugs lining the service halls.
"Two guards by the armory door," Elira whispered as they paused in an alcove. "Lysander's men?"
"Not mine," Kairo muttered. "They've been reassigned without my order. Which means he's protecting whatever's below."
They waited for a passing patrol to turn the corner, then stepped from hiding. Kairo approached the two guards openly, his presence like a drawn sword.
"My lord," one stammered, straightening at once.
"Leave," Kairo said coldly. "Now."
The men exchanged a glance, uncertain. Kairo didn't wait for an answer. He stepped closer, his voice low but lethal. "If I see either of you here again, I'll put you on the wall myself. Dismissed."
They scattered, boots echoing down the hall.
Kairo unlocked the heavy armory door, then guided Elira inside. The room smelled of oil and steel, racks of weapons gleaming in the dim light. At the back wall, beneath a stack of old shields, Kairo found what he'd been looking for—a trapdoor set flush with the stone floor, its iron ring dulled to avoid notice.
"This shouldn't even exist," he muttered, heaving it open. Stale air rose from below, thick with dust and something sharper, chemical.
Elira drew her dagger, peering into the narrow shaft. "You first."
"Stay close," Kairo said, dropping silently onto the ladder. Elira followed, landing lightly behind him.
The tunnel was low and narrow, barely wide enough to walk side by side. Faint lantern light glimmered ahead. They moved without sound, hugging the wall at every turn until voices reached them—two men speaking in hushed tones, their words carrying through the stone.
"…must be done by dawn. Lord Lysander doesn't want delays."
"It'll be loaded in carts outside the lower gate—"
Kairo rounded the corner like a shadow, his sword flashing. One guard went down without a sound. The other tried to shout but Elira was faster, slamming him against the wall with her dagger at his throat.
"Where?" she hissed.
The man's eyes were wide with fear. "Lower gate—two carts, covered—leaving in an hour!"
Kairo struck the hilt of his sword against the man's temple, knocking him unconscious. "We can't let them get past the yard," he muttered, dragging the body into the shadows.
They pushed deeper into the tunnel until it opened into a vaulted chamber. Crates lined the walls, stamped not with the keep's seal but with the wolf‑and‑vine. Men worked quickly by lamplight, stacking vials and sealed packages into canvas sacks.
Lysander wasn't there.
"Count them," Elira whispered. "There's enough to arm a regiment."
"Or poison one," Kairo said grimly. His eyes narrowed. "We destroy it all. Quietly."
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Kairo scanned the vaulted chamber quickly. The crates were stacked high, sealed with tarred rope. The stench of sharp chemicals hung in the cold air, stinging his throat. If these were weapons, they weren't meant for open battle—they were meant to rot an army from the inside out.
"We're not letting this leave the keep," he murmured.
Elira glanced at him sharply. "You're going to burn it?"
"Not here." He shook his head. "Smoke in these tunnels will choke half the south wing before it reaches the surface. We do this clean. Silent."
He crouched beside the nearest crate, testing the weight. Heavy—too heavy for grain or powder. His fingers found a wax seal marked with the faint sigil of Vale. "We take it apart first," he said. "Ruin it before it ever reaches the gate. If we destroy the contents, Lysander won't know how—or when—it was done."
Elira grabbed a short crowbar from the tools leaning against the wall. Together they pried open the crates one by one. Inside were rows of glass vials cushioned in straw, each filled with a pale green liquid that glowed faintly in the lantern light.
Elira's stomach turned. "This isn't an explosive. It's a toxin."
"More than that," Kairo muttered, carefully pouring one vial out onto the stone floor. The liquid hissed on contact, etching faint lines into the rock. "Corrosive. Fast‑acting."
They worked quickly, smashing vials against the walls, soaking the straw, ruining entire crates without a sound. Kairo used his dagger to carve through ropes, spilling sacks of powder into the dirt. Elira doused the ruined contents with water from a cracked barrel, watching the pale glow fade to nothing.
When half the chamber was in chaos, Kairo stepped back, breathing hard. "That's enough. He'll think his shipment was tampered with at the gate. By the time his men check, it'll be useless."
A faint scuff of boots echoed from the far side of the tunnel. Kairo froze, motioning Elira to the shadows. A single lantern bobbed closer—one of Lysander's overseers, coming to inspect the load.
"Stay low," Kairo whispered. "We're not done yet."
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The lantern glow bobbed closer, its light throwing long shadows across the tunnel wall. Kairo motioned for Elira to hold back as the overseer stepped into the vaulted chamber, muttering to himself.
"Shipment better be ready… if Lysander sees another delay—"
He froze. The room was a wreck—vials shattered, crates split open, the faint chemical stench curling through the air.
Kairo moved like a shadow. His hand clamped over the man's mouth and dragged him backward into the darkness. Elira pressed her dagger against his ribs, whisper‑soft: "Make a sound and you die here."
The man's lantern clattered to the floor but stayed lit. His eyes bulged with fear as Kairo slammed him against the wall, blade flashing near his throat.
"Where is Lysander?" Kairo asked, voice low and dangerous.
"I—he's not—he's not here—" the man stammered as Kairo removed his hand just enough for him to speak.
"Wrong answer." Elira's dagger pressed harder.
"He's at the lower gate!" the overseer gasped. "Waiting to inspect the carts before dawn—please, I don't know anything else—"
Kairo's eyes narrowed. "What's in the rest of the shipment?"
"Just… just what's here! Vials, powders, sealed sacks. Lord Lysander said it's for Vale, not me—"
Elira met Kairo's gaze. "He's not lying."
Kairo knocked the man unconscious with the hilt of his sword and dragged him into a dark corner. "If Lysander's personally checking the shipment," he said grimly, "we can't let him leave the gate alive."
Elira wiped her dagger clean, her breath steady now. "So we take him tonight."
"Not yet." Kairo glanced at the ruined crates. "First we make sure he thinks nothing's wrong. If he suspects, he'll vanish again."
He sheathed his blade and grabbed a coil of rope from the wall. "We follow his men out. When he comes to inspect the carts, we cut him off—no witnesses, no chance to slip away."
Elira gave a thin smile. "Finally. A plan I like."
They doused the lantern, leaving the chamber in darkness, and slipped into the tunnels after the men loading the poisoned carts.
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