War For The Kingdom (Part 11)

[dupuy 318]

Desmond Lackley hurriedly strapped on the last piece of his armor before snapping out an order to his squire to bring him his sword. The heat and light of the sun slowly diminished to a cold, dark night. Lackley grinned evilly. The darkness was a perfect time to carry out his task, for he knew it would make his hulking form appear more intimidating to his enemies.

"Besides," thought Desmond, "I and my dagger will be the last thing that they see." The Dark Lord exited his chamber across the courtyard and briskly walked to where Desmond stood.

"Remember Lackley, your life depends on this night," he said. "If you fail your mission and are still alive, don't bother returning." He drew his dagger and pointed it threateningly at Desmond's face. "You'll get a worse fate from me than if you were captured by the enemy." Desmond swallowed hard, nodding to his commander's words.

"I-I shan't disappoint y-you," he stated as bravely as he could. The extreme pressure being placed on him had taken his bold, fearless air and thrown it to the dogs. In its place was a kind of fear that he had never felt before, even in the midst of battle. However, he had to follow through nonetheless and his sadistic will to see Bartholomew lying helpless at his feet was just enough to overcome this fear.

Desmond mounted his horse and spurred its sides, starting his journey towards the city of Lothington. He cursed the night, for he could not ride at his usual reckless gallop. It would take him close to an hour to get to the city at this slow clip-clop rate, but the darkness would allow no faster speed. Even the torch he carried was nearly useless, for the biting winter winds continually suppressed its dull orange glare. Desmond slowly urged his animal up the icy slope of Lothington valley and into the thick woods between him and the city. He did at least have a well-established trail that could be followed almost up to the Lothington gates with the exception of the last few feet, which would likely be heavily guarded.

"Well, no matter," he thought to himself, "I can tie my horse down the road and walk through the woods the rest of the way."

The wind was less chilling in the thick forest, and Desmond's torch began to glow more brightly. He increased his speed to a canter and soon the city gates appeared ahead. Desmond dismounted just as he had planned, extinguishing his torch in the process so as not to be seen by the guards ahead. He silently drew his sword and dagger before gliding into the underbrush. The guards on the road were easily bypassed without an incident: this dark night hid Desmond's act of espionage from sight and the howling wind covered any crunching of icy leaves under his boots. The city gates were directly ahead. Now Desmond would have to exercise the next phase of his plan to get into the heart of Lothington undetected. He slowly sheathed his sword and took it off of his belt along with the dagger, laying them both under the leaves in a place that he could find them again. From the pocket of his surcoat, he pulled an inconspicuous hunting knife, the likes of which were common enough amongst the peasantry, and strapped it in the place of his sword. No guard would suspect this utilitarian blade of being a murder weapon. Next, he pulled the clothes of a farmer from his haversack and quickly put them on, covering his black armor and concealing most of his face with a hood. A leather jerkin concealed the rigidity of his breastplate just in case the guards were to pat him down. Now prepared for the next stage of his mission, Desmond moved back to the path and approached the gate guards. He was passed through without even a second thought and was soon strolling through the streets of Lothington just like an ordinary citizen.

Desmond was well aware of his destination. From the reports of other spies, he had learned that Bartholomew was staying with three royal knights at the city's main inn, which was run by a certain Jeremy Watts. He could not wait to become the death of all of them if he could. His right arm clutched at the knife on his belt over and over again, rehearsing the action that it would take when his victim was before him. Desmond lived his life in eager anticipation of violence: he had almost an obsession with killing that had become a concern to even some of his fellow soldiers within the Dark Army. This was just one of the reasons he was counted among the most brutal officers under the Dark Lord's leadership. Another was the fact that he wore such a seemingly derogatory title with pride. Now, he had an opportunity to further solidify that title in his own mind and the minds of others. It was also an opportunity on which his very life rested, meaning he must be successful in its undertaking.

"Oh, I'll be successful, I will," he assured himself. Never had Desmond Lackley been known to fail at any deed he had undertaken. He had fought his way through his tasks with an inhuman level of determination: one that had been the death of many who stood in his way. Now that his entire reputation hinged on this one assassination, that determination had never been so strong. He would prevail at all costs.

Desmond's progress towards the inn was brisk due to Lothington's nearly empty streets. Very few of the city's people wanted to venture out at this time of night: partly because of the cold and partly because of the darkness. Lothington's citizens knew that if serious crimes were to be committed, they would be carried out during the night and  Desmond Lackley's presence in the city proved that they were right.

Finally, the Lothington inn appeared in the city square ahead. Desmond walked the last few steps to its entrance, knowing that it would be locked. Despite his training as a spy, he had no intention of carrying out his charge silently. He wanted action and lots of it. He hadn't even bothered to bring a lock pick because he knew he wouldn't need it. His method of entry would be more direct than that. With one last hesitation, Desmond lifted his heavy boot high into the air and swung it with a splintering crash through the door.

[Person_Random 4,991]

Approved.

Interesting change of a point of view with the dark side showing their faces in this chapter. With fewer characters involved, there leaves room for some rich description - absolutely amazing. In my opinion, it fits really well and provides insight into the antagonist's motives. I'm excited to read and approve the next few chapters you have ready; thanks for a great way to kick off the week! Keep it up!

Edits: Minor Grammar Changes

Spoiler

Great work with the grammar! I feel that you are near mastery - just a few small fixes and you're good to go 

 

[dupuy 318]

1 hour ago, Person_Random said:

Approved.

Interesting change of a point of view with the dark side showing their faces in this chapter. With fewer characters involved, there leaves room for some rich description - absolutely amazing. In my opinion, it fits really well and provides insight into the antagonist's motives. I'm excited to read and approve the next few chapters you have ready; thanks for a great way to kick off the week! Keep it up!

Edits: Minor Grammar Changes

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Great work with the grammar! I feel that you are near mastery - just a few small fixes and you're good to go 

 

Thanks again for the complements! I'm glad to see that the grammar in this one is better for both your sake and mine! I wanted to create a different frame of reference that would eventually tie into the main plot and I thought there wasn't a better way to do that than to write from the antagonists' point of view. In this case, I used a "pawn," so to speak, of the main antagonist that emulates the thoughts and actions of the Dark Lord and impacts the main plot. More to come on Lackley in the next chapter, as well as a twist involving one of the other characters.

Spoiler

Hopefully you enjoy the rest of the posted chapters. I'll try to flood the AWS with more so that you will be occupied.