[Book 1] Break In

Dylan Deepwater picked up one of the four Coins of the Masses that Immanuel spread on the counter. He raised it at eye level to study it and, with a nod of approval, asked Immanuel, "What four favors do you need?"

Beginning to count with his fingers, Immanuel began, "Stun and smoke grenades, my favorites. Then, putting another finger out, he continues, "Throwing daggers made of my favorite kind of metal."

Dylan Deepwater put his hands up in front of him, gesturing for Immanuel to stop. "Whoa, there. Wait."

Confused, Immanuel squinted his eyes. "Why? Is something the matter?"

Dylan Deepwater held up two fingers. "You do not need to pay me for the grenades and throwing daggers. Now tell me the two other things you need."

Taking one coin, Immanuel replied, "On second thought, I'll need a fifth favor from you."

—

Immanuel rolled up a spell scroll that was burning at the top and bottom edges. This he set aside, and he looked up at the night sky. Clouds approached the moon from every direction, first concealing the stars, and when they were covering the moon, it was as if Immanuel's vision was slipping away.

With the spell scroll's energy setting it aflame and reducing it to ashes, Immanuel lit up the candle enclosed in glass and silver another way and, carrying it, moved out from under the tree, passing through tall grass towards a dirt road up ahead of him.

Walking along the narrow dirt road between tall grass and a thick cover of trees, he could barely see the dark outline of the top of a familiar tower. Baron Nigel Ironhelm's manor. I wonder who lives there now. He took out and unfolded a large square sheet of paper, one he recognized as a series of maps of the entire manor, covering every floor and the outside view. He held the sheet with one hand and read it as he walked. This is a favor worth two Coins of the Masses. Better get the most out of it.

When he heard the faintest bit of screaming, Immanuel set down the glass and silver lantern. He slightly lifted the white featureless mask off his face and blew out the candle's flame. He folded the map the way he took it from among his clothing and stowed it into a pocket. Right on time. He focused his eyes on the many torches brought by an assembly of people up ahead and started walking, this time with his hands on the greatsword.

A tall, muscular man, one who appeared to be leading the group of men standing by him and behind him, screamed at another man standing across him, a short, stocky figure backed by another group of men. The taller man appeared to be picking a fight with the stocky figure, judging from his gestures and the way he walked towards the other man. Trouble was brewing, and armored men stood outside the tall fencing and gate of the manor, weapons and torches ready to repel the rabble-rousers if the violence spilled there. Good. Keep up the act.

Immanuel moved out of a bush and continued along the wooded area, intending to circle to the side of the manor fencing opposite the side facing the commotion. By the time he had gone halfway around the manor, he saw more than half of the soldiers stationed in other areas move towards the side of the manor facing the commotion, leaving other sections of the manor fencing lightly guarded. There was more shouting and taunting from more participants from both groups; they were close to brawling. They better do as they had rehearsed.

Five soldiers guarded a door he intended to enter, making it the second most guarded part of the manor while the commotion was going on. Seeing that those men were standing close to each other, Immanuel readied a fan of five throwing knives, then touched his chest to activate the mouse sigil. Once his body melded with the surrounding darkness and sunk to the ground, Immanuel crawled forward, going up the fencing, remaining unseen until he stood up a few meters to the soldiers' right, deactivating the sigil. Jaws dropped and legs shook as they saw that a shadow figure had become a man. Despite the fear, they remained where they stood–it was as if the soldiers carried massive boulders with them.

Then Immanuel tossed the fan of throwing knives at the five. Each knife hit a soldier in the neck, and the group fell instantly.

Armed with his knowledge of key parts of the manor, Immanuel opened the door and entered a narrow passageway. A few meters in, he reached a large room barely lit by two lanterns. To Immanuel, it looked like a storage, and, judging from the prevailing smell, he had reached the manor’s food storage area, true to the map’s claims.

A second door was accessible by getting deeper into the room, walking past high-rise shelves lined with sacks and crates along a path forged by the very presence of the shelves. Once Immanuel neared the other door, he ran a hand into a gap between crates and, feeling that both hands could easily fit in the gap, he inserted a number of black-striped matchstick grenades into it. To cover my escape back here if it need be.

Immanuel pulled out a throwing dagger and scratched an X onto one of the crates. And then, with there being nothing left to do in the area, he opened the door in front of him and ascended the staircase that was hidden behind it.

True to the map's claims, the staircase brought Immanuel into a large marble kitchen. It was not used, and thus dimly lit. Two ornate doors lay just ahead of him, and had he not obtained a map of the manor, he would have needed to investigate what lay beyond each one. The right door leads to the reception. There, a grand staircase should bring me up. The left—

His recalling of the map's contents was interrupted by the opening of what was actually a hatch. Made of marble? Interesting.

What looked to be a massive appendage emerged from the hatch. Its odd shape and its glinting, almost liquid appearance suggested it to be a slug. Knowing that his sword would only bounce off its elastic body, Immanuel darted for the door up ahead of him and laid a hand on the doorknob to open it.

Why does it feel sticky? He looked at his hand and saw traces of slime on it. Immanuel wiped his hand on the wall, and as he did, he saw transparent slime move out of the keyhole. Ooze!

Immanuel felt his chest, which activated the sigil. Then, when his body had become a shadow on the marble floor, he slipped through a tiny gap between the ornate door and the marble floor, a gap that perhaps only an ant could fit through.

Even despite the dim light, Immanuel saw that the reception hosted an impressive display of large, soft seats the likes of which he had never even thought could possibly exist. And surrounding this part of the house were numerous statues. Some were of people—perhaps historical figures—who Immanuel could not identify, even with the lamps that lit the area. Others were of creatures, some he had seen, others he had heard of and read about, while others perhaps figments of their artists' imaginations.

From the large window that went all the way up the ceiling, Immanuel saw that what was just a shouting match earlier had descended into an all-out brawl, one he could only faintly hear from where he stood. A few soldiers stood by the fencing, perhaps preventing the fight from spilling into the bounds of the manor, while the other soldiers had mixed themselves into the brawl, likely turning it into a three-group skirmish. Good. Keep their hands full tonight.

Just as Immanuel turned, his eyes met the glassy eyes of a large, wild cat that was predominantly gray in color. It looked to Immanuel like it was about to lunge into him, but his instinctive leap to the left and the dagger thrown mid-jump–which bounced off the large cat’s body with an audible ping–seemed to be enough to stop its lunge. Not only that, it lowered its body, perhaps assuming a defensive position instead.

What kind of large cat is that and why does it move in such a strange way? Black and white stains characteristic to marble ran throughout its body. He glanced to where he had seen a big cat statue earlier, only to find an empty pedestal.

Waste of time. Immanuel rubbed the ends of a number of yellow-striped matchstick grenades against the striking surface on his belt and tossed them forward. Before they could hit the floor, the grenades popped and began releasing thick clouds of smoke, putting the marble cat on the defensive once again, just as it had risen to try and, perhaps, attack once again. With his raised chances of escape, Immanuel leapt over furniture and rushed towards the–

At the rightmost edge of his vision, something moved and became larger with each passing heartbeat–another of those marble statues had come to life and was charging towards Immanuel. This time, it was a statue of a fierce warrior from a forgotten era. It held a trident with both hands. How primitive and predictable, Immanuel thought of the way it charged towards him.

With the thick gray smoke spreading his way, it would have been a sensible move to hide behind it, if not for the erratic rippling coming from within it. Immanuel recognized this to be the large cat moving around and looking for him–perhaps even about to lunge into him. With the animated warrior statue closing in on him, he only had an instant to think and act.

The sudden shift of the smoke proved Immanuel right, and he leapt back. The cat statue crashed into the warrior statue, knocking both of them down, and Immanuel instinctively tossed an additional number of smoke grenades to cover his escape and prevent soldiers from seeing what had happened, at least for a time.

The warrior statue broke in half at the waist, while the front legs and head of the cat flew to three different places. The cat’s head turned out to be the thing that sailed past Immanuel’s head and landed with a loud bang on the floor.

With the broken statues laying still, Immanuel rushed up the stairs and onto a dimly lit landing with an ornate balcony that was overlooking the chaos below…

And the shadows of armed men rushing towards the reception.

Hearing their footsteps becoming louder, Immanuel wanted to widen the distance gap between himself and the soldiers rushing in to investigate. He lit up and tossed a handful of black-striped matchstick grenades over the balcony. Then he rushed away from there lest he be caught in their blinding flashes and deafening bangs.

Off to the far side of the area Immanuel mentally called a second reception area, past more expensive furniture and ornamental pieces, was another flight of stairs. It was one that the architecture partly concealed, but was just as grand as the flight of stairs he had just passed. Immanuel kept his gaze upon that flight of stairs, in case the blasts and flashes of the stun grenades affect him too.

Just as he was about to get halfway across, the stun grenades exploded into several blinding flashes of light, eliciting screams and curses from the soldiers below. Immanuel would have loved to hear the screams of those stunned soldiers, but the ringing in his ears muffled them. Not fast enough!

The stun grenades also disoriented Immanuel–he turned left and right a number of times, nearly falling over furniture, ornaments, and even a monstrous humanoid figure in the belief that the next stairs were anywhere else but straight ahead from where he started. Wait, do people see random things under the effects of my stun grenade?

I don’t think that’s–

A set of the creature’s long front claws slashed Immanuel’s face, knocking him down and cutting his thoughts.