The banquet was in full swing. The guards, devouring food and drink, were thoroughly intoxicated. The Manager had deliberately placed highly intoxicating drinks at their tables.
Sneakily pouring an unknown liquid into two of the mugs, the Manager casually passed them on to the guards: "Dig in, boys! There's more where that came from."
The guards emptied the mugs in one gulp, and were already asking for refills.
The roar of jubilation engulfed everyone there—except three. The Manager masked his anxiety behind liveliness and moved with deliberate calm.
The siblings, posturing as waitresses, were not as adept. Their distress was apparent from heavy frowns and their suspecting eyes—constantly looking at the guards.
Their gaze did not go unnoticed by the guards. Some questioned their odd behaviour while others complained about their poor serving manners. Their falling facade was saved by the Manager's quick lie:
"A noble took fancy to these two, so he had a pleasure house pick them up this morning. I'm just the lucky dog tasked with moving them. Since the timing matched with the banquet, I figured I'd put them to work. As the saying goes: You walk with the King's Delight... You work in the King's Delight!"
His explanation eased many doubts, as also it deterred others from approaching the siblings.
The older sibling was vigilant for any lapse to flee, but to no avail. Despite much of the guards basking in the banquet, a reserve force remained ever watchful and sober.
Soon, the Manager's unknown liquid started to bear fruit. Scores of guards became afflicted; many fell slumped on the ground, while some vomited incessantly. The chaos temporarily suspended the banquet.
The reserve forces, the only sober hands in sight, rushed to their aid. It was only after the guards' conditions were dismissed as a bad batch of alcohol that the banquet resumed.
Before long, they had begun carousing yet again, unbothered by their fellow guards' ailment.
The Manager sat away from the racketing patrols, enjoying his drink in the comfortable peace of solitude.
A trembling hand grabbed the Manager's shoulder as a voice spoke, "Don'tcha worry lad, those were delicate flower-boys not made for a man's drink. I'll personally... burp... personally vouch for you, should any trouble come of this, aye." His breath heavily reeked of alcohol.
He was the commanding officer of the North Gate. The Manager had inadvertently let his mask slip, revealing a flicker of fear within.
Instantly putting the mask back on, the Manager replied humorously, "I was concerned, I'd have to pay for their accommodations, in light of their... dark state."
Both laughed at the wry remark.
Dusk was upon the plain of Sereplain; darkness had engulfed Caldraveth, veiling all that was without light.
The Manager's face obscured behind the shadow, allowing him to take off the mask and sigh a breath of relief. His eyes, however, were heavy with tension. It should be done by now, hopefully she will escape... I wish.
He knew the vanity of his wish, yet could not help but cling to it.
"Manager, where are those waitresses?" The officer asked frivolously.
"I had them dispatched ahead of me, considering the developments here. I didn't want to risk getting them sick or anything. They will reach their destination, sir."
"Good, good..."
Meanwhile, the siblings hid behind a patch of shrubs not too far away from the gates. The momentary lapse of security, due to the alcohol poisoning, provided them the perfect opening to escape. They had fled the North Gate and dashed until a cover was in sight.
The younger sibling gripped her sister's arms, and spoke, "Sis, why are we stopping? Uncle said to keep going north beyond Cinderglaze."
"Uncle's stunt gave us enough time to flee the city, but escaping beyond its horizon will require the guards to leave their posts entirely. Uncle did say most of the patrols will be occupied somewhere, though I'm not sure what he's talking about. We have to wait until that happens, if they catch even a glimpse of us, then distance won't matter. They have many beasts capable of outrunning us... actually, every beast of theirs can, if we factor you in, Pipsqueak," she teased to lighten the mood away from the grimness.
Pouting, the younger sibling mumbled, "Meanie."
The older sibling, continued, "We have to trust uncle and Mum, I'm sure they have something in place."
"Will maa join us?" the younger sibling's eyes glinted with optimism and naivety.
The older sister, however, could not share the optimism her sister harbored. Still, she tried: "I don't know, 'squeak. But she must also be waiting for the distraction uncle hinted at. She likely has some other arrangement planned. Maybe the three of us escaping through the same gate was too great a risk. I suppose, we'll meet her in Cinderglaze, or perhaps in Glaswold."
With her concerns allayed, the younger sibling's mood lifted and a smile formed on her face: "I see, then let's focus on escaping."
The older sister knew, she had not lied; her reasoning was no mere wishful thinking but grounded in logic. Yet her words—maybe, perhaps, suppose—felt dry and unconvincing. She was lying to herself, and she knew it.
Not betraying any sign of her inner turmoil, she forced a small smile, and added, "Good thinking, for once, Pipsqueak."
Inside the North Gate, a group of soldiers led by an officer in blue approached the banquet. One of the soldiers questioned the reserved force: "Who's the commanding officer of the North Gate?"
"He's busy drink—" A fellow guard swatted him and took over:
"He means, Sir's inspecting the brew that put so many of ours out of action. He's been dutifully at it for a while—inspecting the drink thoroughly." He pointed at the centre of the carousing guards, "There, that's the fella—I mean, Sir."
The soldier sternly replied, "Bring him here, at once!"
Using a reserve guard as a crutch, the commanding officer arrived at the scene: "Hey boys, what'd you stop... burp... my inspection for?"
The officer in blue spoke, "I'm taking over the charge of the North Gate—and what's left of its force."
Stepping ahead, he climbed on a table and announced: "A high-ranking noble has been assassinated. The culprit is a female slave-born. She was spotted to have fled the city, posing as a pilgrim. I am forming a search party with all the able-bodied here to bring the wrath of Caldraveth upon that heinous criminal... In the meantime, the North Gate is to be barred for everyone—nobody comes in or goes out."
One of the reserved soldiers spoke, "Sir, we don't have enough manpower to form a search party and man the gates simultaneously. It will be after morning, at least, before we reach even half our strength."
The commanding officer of the gate shook off his intoxication, and replied, "All those who are sober will form the search party; the rest will man the gate to the best of their ability. Not ideal, but it will have to do for now. It's not like we're facing an impending invasion anytime soon."
Stopping by the Manager, he said, "You should leave; the city will soon be on high alert, and rampant arrests will be made—regardless of criminality. Go to your café and stay there."
The Manager replied sincerely, "Thank you, sir. I will take my leave then."
After making brief preparations, the search party left the North Gate, leaving the horizon bereft of watchful oversight.
The siblings pressed their bodies into the dirt and held their breath tight, as they saw the search party rush past them, heading toward the pilgrims. They stayed deathly still until the sound of hoofbeats and clanking armor faded into distance.
Only when the horizon fell quiet again did the siblings stand, and pressed forward.
"How long do you think it will take us to cross Cinderglaze, sis?"
"Who knows... could be weeks, could be months or perhaps more. In any case, we don't stop till we cross it."
The older sibling was relieved to have left Caldraveth without much trouble. But she knew the real battle lies ahead, not behind.
With trembling legs but full of resolve, they marched toward the desert-bound horizon. Toward the hope of a future they were not yet allowed to dream—into the dark, they marched.