A Number of narrow Passageways between or behind Buildings

"What do you see?"

Isha is currently peeking through the closed exit left of the ladder's end.

"This seems to be an empty cupboard. Your entrance would be the back wall of it."

"What lies beyond?"

"An indoor room. I can see a large lever, the control for the gate, I presume. There is one guard currently aiming a crossbow out of an arrow slit. Cloth armour. You will come out behind him."

Only one guard, conveniently placed no less. Fate must be on my side. Or whoever created this secret path planned for this...

I gently remove the back wall of the cupboard; it slides to the side without a sound. The actual door of the cupboard too opens without a sound. The hinges must be freshly oiled. Someone really wants to make sure I pull this off...

He has no clue I am here. After all, anyone unaware of the secret passage would never even think about the possibility that someone could just appear behind them.

He is completely engrossed in his task, aiming out this arrow slit, taking lives from a safe distance. He chuckles lightly to himself; he must be really enjoying this. Let's see for how much longer...

I saunter on over, keeping to his back. The sound of the fighting outside masking my steps, I ready my dagger, the implement of the deed I am about to do.

Without any hesitation, I stab where I assume his liver to be. He tenses up, dropping his crossbow. While I do manage to penetrate his armour, I don't quite make it as deep as I would've liked.

If there is one thing that those hellish hours down in the mine have taught me, it is the effectiveness of the combination of a hammer and a chisel. Let's see if it also works with a hammer and a dagger...

Swinging with my hammer at the blade lodged under his ribcage, I drive it all the way into him. He collapses to the ground, looking at me in utter horror. Not so funny now, is it?

This is a fatal wound; it will do him in soon enough. There's no need for me to make sure by doing something like slitting his throat or crushing his skull. Furthermore, I don't think he could get up anymore even if he tried.

Yet for some inexplicable reason, I feel compelled to do so all the same...

Now, with that done, I turn to the lever. I want to make sure they can't easily close the gate again, so I should have a look at how it works beforehand. I need to destroy the mechanism or something. To my surprise, however, the lever can just be removed, like straight up pulled out. This can't be intended...

Jesha appears to really have planned this since our meeting with that sultan fellow, maybe even longer.

I pull the lever, remove it from its socket and throw it out of the arrow slit. It's a tight fit, but I manage. Those down below should be used to stuff being thrown at them by now, so one more stray lever shouldn't pose an issue, I hope.

Within moments the rallying cry of those outside can be heard as they storm through the gate. That would be my cue to leave this place before anyone comes to check why the gate's open.

I leave the room through the door, leading me down a staircase. Those down below have their hands full with the stream of elves flooding into the city. Those up above on the wall still look on in utter shock, wondering as to how they even got through the gate.

With everyone distracted, I slip into the alleyways unnoticed. Now, to hurry towards the apothecary. I need to get there before anyone else does.

While I have the luxury of already knowing where it's located, once the other elves find out where the apothecary is, they too will come looking for some of that medicine for their loved ones. And while I'd hate for us to fight over it, if there isn't enough, I will show them no mercy...

Using Isha as my scout, I traverse the city in its shadows, slipping past any and all engagements now taking place across the city.

Something of note: almost everywhere one can find crossbows strewn about the streets. Impressive and large, these things would've been an absolute disaster to face.

But once again, a suspicious absence of any accompanying bolts. And without those, they could only find use as firewood really. So they must've been discarded rather quickly; they'd only be dead weight.

The very idea that the city of merchants and accountants would be able to run out of something this quickly seems rather funny to me. Someone must've been trying to cut some corners...

Managing to sneak behind the active line of the battle, I arrive at the backside of the apothecary. The window is slightly out of reach; nothing a few nearby boxes can't mitigate.

"A man is currently bent over a shelf, gathering things into a bag. He will see you entering."

Someone else already scavenging? No matter.

In one quick leap, I enter through the window and dash at him. He does notice me, but by the way he panics, he can't be trained in combat. Let's hope he proves talkative enough with my knife pressed against his throat...

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

He looks at me in utter terror, barely even managing to get out any words at all.

"I am the apothecary. I was instructed to gather up—"

Perfect, just the man I was looking for.

"Where is the medicine?"

I can practically hear the gears rattling in his head, trying to search for an answer to my awfully vague question, preferably one that'll let him keep his head. My bad, let me try this again.

"I require the remedy for the crimson cough, and you will give it to me. Or else..."

I draw a bit of blood with my dagger; he turns deathly pale.

"The leaving merchants bought it all up! I have no more! Please believe me!"

While I am unsure exactly what sort of expression adorns my face right now, judging by the way he shrieks in terror, it can't be too pretty.

"B-but Master Zareth bought a large quantity only a few days ago; he might still have some."

Paying the architect of all suffering in this city a quick visit seems more plausible than chasing after long-gone merchants. Very well.

"What does it look like?"

"Dried pellets of a red herb!"

He seems to be telling the truth; at least I think so.

"Please spare me..."

Ah right, he was hoping to come out of this alive. A drop of blood from my left hand hits the floor.

"Where are your spirits and bandages? You still have some of those, right?"

I remove my knife from his throat. His eyes light up with hope.

"Ah yes, here, take them. Take as much as you'd like!"

Giving me the bottle he hands me, I take a quick whiff. I am assaulted by the familiar scent of ethanol; it must be pretty pure. I douse it on the wound on my left hand, flinching from the stinging pain. I wrap both my hands with the gauze. In absence of any real gloves, it'll have to do.

I leave through the very same window through which I entered, making my way for the manor.

"Why did you spare him? He too is complicit in all of this."

I did not spare him. His death was only delayed. The next desperate elf that'll reach him will ask him the same damning question, and he will have to give the same damning answer. I'll let them be the one to judge his sins; I've got a bit of a deadline here.

Going around the building, I reach the oasis once more. All the stalls are gone; the merchants must've gathered their belongings and left as quickly as they could as soon as word of our rebellion reached them.

The fighting seems to have largely died down, with only a few more scuffles audible in select corners of the city. A familiar sinking feeling hits me. This is going way too well.

Don't get me wrong, the toll this is taking on us is immense; the streets are littered with our dead. But with our equipment being way worse and the sickness reducing our number further, we shouldn't even have stood a chance. But we are winning nonetheless...

In front of the manor a large crowd of bloodied elves have gathered, those that still remain. They appear to be waiting, licking their wounds. The heavy wooden double door that leads inside remains shut.

"I see Loren; maybe we could find out why they haven't stormed the manor yet from him."

Led by Isha, I make my way past all these battered and beaten warriors. Close to none of them are still in any shape to continue fighting. A good few lost an arm; another few over there no longer possess a full pair of legs.

I am unsure what their odds of surviving are; infections are dangerous. Most medieval warriors died not due to the wounds inflicted on them, but due to the consequences of them.

Right next to the closed gate, Loren sits on a makeshift bench. Most likely created out of some ransacked furniture taken from some of the adjacent houses. He too is currently being bandaged up by an elven woman.

Considering the bloody bandage obscuring his left eye, it seems he too had to pay a steep price. Seeing me, a wave of relief hits his face.

"You're still alive! Thank the Tree!"

He springs up, taking me into a bear hug.

"When they told me what happened down in the mine, I feared for the worst..."

"What's the situation?"

He seems a bit surprised at my coldness. There will be time yet for sentimentality; right now I need to get into the manor.

"Right... We've largely taken the city; the last few stragglers should be rounded up as we speak. The remaining guards have barricaded themselves in the manor. Their main fighting force stands at the ready beyond those heavy doors."

"Side entrances?"

"Blocked, we are trying to get through, but no success. The only way in that remains open is the front entrance."

In some misguided hope that they'll get to leave this alive, they've left one way open.

"We are in no shape to fight them in there, so we'll just starve 'em out."

Sensible deduction Loren, I wouldn't handle it any other way were I in your shoes. However, time is not on my side.

"Hey, where are you going? Are you mad?"

I head towards the door. He holds me in place.

"Losing Eleanor must be hard on you, but you're just throwing your life away if you head in there!"

I will save Mother, or I will die in the attempt. Do not stop me, Loren!

I turn to face him once more. I truly wonder how my face looks right now, for upon seeing it, he just lets me go. A deep look of sadness spreads across his face. With resignation he sits down once more, staring only at the ground.

"He cares greatly for you..."

I'm aware. To him, I am walking right to my death. I might very well be, but I must move onwards, for Mother.

I push open the heavy doors, ready to face what lies beyond...