THE PHOENIX AND THE FORM: Chapter Four

 In Lord Harrington’s opulent study, sunlight slanted through the oriel windows, dappling the polished oak floor. Lord Albus Harrington, impeccably dressed, sat behind his massive desk, a faint tension etched in the lines around his eyes. Opposite him stood Reynolds, his head of security, a tall and stern man with a meticulous nature.

“Reynolds,” Lord Harrington began, his voice crisp and laced with authority as he steepled his fingers. “The dinner party is tonight, and I expect nothing short of absolute perfection in our security arrangements. This event is crucial for my business alliances and maintaining my reputation.”

Raymond Reynolds, a man whose face was etched with a stoic expression offered a curt nod. “Of course. My men are prepped and we’re finalizing the details with Ms. Blue’s catering service.”

He was dressed in his security uniform, his gun holstered at his hip.

“Well, what’s the hold-up?” Lord Harrington inquired, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes.

“A last-minute addition on their end,” Reynolds clarified. “We’re just finalizing the background checks.”

Harrington sighed, “Fine, but it better not cost me. I’ve already spent a fortune on ensuring this evening is a success.” He brooded. “What about that security system you had me purchase?” he inquired; his tone clipped.

“The Sentinel X900 is fully operational,” Reynolds assured him. “We’ve run multiple diagnostics to ensure its efficiency. However, there is one concern I’d like to address. The guests’ personal devices—phones, tablets, and other gadgets like smartwatches and smart bracelets—pose a significant security risk. They could be used for unauthorized recordings, data breaches, and even hacking attempts.”

Lord Harrington leaned back in his chair, considering the weight of Reynolds’ words. “I see your point, Reynolds. But wouldn’t some guests find this intrusive? They might see it as a bit much.”

“Possibly,” Reynolds admitted with a shrug. “But it’s a necessary measure to ensure the integrity of our security. We can frame the request in a way that emphasizes the exclusivity and confidentiality of the event. Our guests should understand that we’re prioritizing their safety and the security of sensitive discussions.”

Lord Harrington nodded slowly, a flicker of approval in his gaze. “Very well. Draft the email Reynolds, and I’ll review it before we send it out. Make sure the language is firm but polite. We can’t afford any mishaps, especially not with the caliber of guests we’re expecting.”

“Understood,” Reynolds replied with a curt nod. “I’ll have the draft ready for your approval by the end of the day. My team and I will make sure the dinner party goes off without a hitch.”

Lord Harrington’s gaze remained steady. “I trust you will, Reynolds. Failure is not an option.”

There was a soft knock that echoed from the heavy wooden door of the study. The door opened quietly to reveal the butler, an elderly man with a dignified bearing.

“Excuse me, my lord,” the butler began, bowing slightly. “Your guest has arrived.”

“Very well.” Harrington replied, rising from his leather armchair. He straightened his suit jacket and came out from behind his desk, heading towards the door. As he passed Reynolds by, he stopped and cast one last look at him. “Don’t embarrass me, Reynolds.”

“Of course not,” Reynolds responded, and watched him leave.

Harrington followed the butler out of the study, the thick carpet muffling their footsteps as they made their way down the grand hallway. The castle was a testament to both medieval grandeur and modern luxury. Its stone walls were adorned with priceless artworks; and state-of-the-art security measures were subtly integrated into the decor.

As they approached the entrance hall, Lord Harrington’s eyes fell upon his guest, who stood in the center of the room, radiating an aura of quiet power and sophistication.

The man was tall, standing at an impressive 6’5”, with sleek-backed black hair that gleamed under the light. He wore an impeccably tailored all-black suit, crafted from the finest Italian wool. The single-breasted jacket with peak lapels hugged his athletic frame perfectly, the black silk tie resting against a crisp white dress shirt, providing a stark yet classic contrast.

His trousers were slim-cut, tailored to highlight his long legs, and ended just above polished black leather Oxford shoes. Draped over his arm was a long black cashmere overcoat.

In his right hand, he carried a cane, an exquisite piece—black with a silver wolf’s head as the handle. The wolf’s eyes, set with small emeralds, gleamed in the light.

Pinned to his lapel was a small, emerald, mistletoe brooch. On his right hand, he wore a striking ring of a snake biting its own tail, the ouroboros, crafted in silver with tiny black pearl eyes.

As Lord Harrington stepped into the foyer, the guest turned to face him, a subtle smile playing on his lips. “If it isn’t my guest of honor.” The man’s smile spread across his face as he spread out his arms in an open embrace.

As Blue’s sleek black limousine, glided to a halt in the cobblestone courtyard, she stepped out with an effortless grace, her movements imbued with a quiet confidence. Her left leg emerged first, revealing a glimpse of her smooth and toned skin through the slit of her gown, before her high heel touched down. She stepped out of the car at Lord Harrington’s castle, her heels sinking slightly into the cobblestone courtyard. The castle loomed above her—a centuries-old building with its high turrets and ivy-clad walls.

Her midnight blue, silk dress, hugged her curves, and its cathedral-length train flowed like a midnight river. The moon cast its glow upon her gown, as she ascended the grand staircase, the fabric rustling softly.

The distant voices and murmurings of her fellow guests floated through the air. Steps echoed, her heels clicking a resolute rhythm, a steadfast staccato in the quiet of the evening.

Her earrings—delicate chandeliers, danced with every step, their facets flickering like candle flames. Her hair, intricately woven revealed the nape of her neck that a neckband adorned—a constellation of sapphires with a ruby at its center—a single red ember, amidst a sea, of fiery blue.

As she came up to the castle doors, an entourage of Harrington’s guards awaited the guests. Next to them stood an archway detector. Alongside it was a baggage scanner.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please surrender all electronic devices, phones, tablets, smartwatches, and smart bracelets, for safekeeping until the party is over.” A female guard called out, holding a tray out toward the guests.

“My phone has confidential information,” protested a man in a gray suit with graying hair.

“I’m sorry, sir, you’ll still have to surrender it. You all received an email informing you about this security measure, but rest assured sir, your phone will be kept safe and be returned to you unhampered with.” Said a man standing by the archway.

“Madam?” the lady said as Blue approached. She shook her head, signaling she wasn’t carrying any devices with her. The female guard held out a tray in which Blue placed her purse. It was led through the scanner. The man seated at the scanner craned his neck, his eyes narrowing as Blue’s purse went through. There was a moment of silence. Blue’s confident expression remained unbroken. The lights flashed green. “She’s good,” he said.

Blue passed through the archway and was handed back her purse. She stepped forward, making her way through the castle’s doors.

The quartet, positioned near the mammoth double doors of the entrance hall, was composed of two violinists, a cellist, and a violist. Their repertoire for the evening included a selection of classical pieces, each chosen to enhance the elegance and grandeur of the event. As Blue made her entrance, the quartet was playing the invigorating and triumphant “Spring” from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.

With her arrival, the music swelled, as if in league with her presence. Its vibrant and dynamic tones—in perfect harmony with her movements. She captured the attention of the guests. Their conversations pausing momentarily; their gazes drawn toward the entrance. As Blue glided with fluid elegance, “Spring” played on, the cadenced rise and fall of her hips almost dancing to the music. Her midnight blue silk gown, catching the light, appeared almost luminescent against the backdrop of the castle’s grand entrance. The train trailed behind her, the fabric of her gown rippling like a moonlit lake, its luminescence mirroring the crescendos of the violins.

The grand entrance hall of the castle was an opulent space, meticulously prepared to host the evening’s distinguished guests before they proceeded to the dining room. The hall itself was an architectural marvel, a blend of medieval fortitude, Renaissance elegance, and modern renovations.

As the guests stepped through the towering, ornately carved wooden doors, they were enveloped in an atmosphere of timeless grandeur. The floor was a mosaic of polished marble, its gleaming surface reflecting the soft ambient light that filled the space. At the center of the hall, an exquisite chandelier hung like a celestial constellation, its crystal pendants catching and refracting the light in a dazzling display of brilliance.

Along the walls, rich tapestries depicted historic battles and pastoral scenes, their vibrant colors and intricate details a testament to the castle’s storied past. Between these tapestries, suits of armor stood sentinel, their polished surfaces gleaming under the chandelier’s light, each one a testament to the castle’s impressive collection.

Flanking the hall were grand arched windows, draped with heavy velvet curtains in olive green, tied back with gold tassels to reveal the night outside. The moonlight streaming in through the windows mingled with the warm glow of the many candelabras strategically placed throughout the room. Each candelabra was an art piece in itself, wrought from gold and adorned with delicate engravings, casting a soft, flickering light that added to the room’s ethereal atmosphere.

In the center of the hall, a series of elegant round tables were set for the initial reception. Each table was covered with pristine white linen and set with fine china and crystal glassware, filled with hors d’oeuvres and champagne respectively. Lord Harrington’s status symbol; a display of his wealth and taste for luxury. Elaborate floral arrangements adorned the tables, featuring a mix of roses, lilies, and exotic blooms, their fragrant scents mingling with the room’s heady perfume.

There was a grand staircase at the far end of the hall. Its twin flights ascended with curved balustrades of dark mahogany and gold, culminating in a graceful landing leading further into the depths of the castle. A red carpet adorned the staircase, flowing down its steps like a river of luxury.

Blue’s eyes swept the hall as she moved with purpose, each step taken with controlled grace. As guests mingled and chatted, the soft strains of classical music filled the air, their melodies floating through the hall.

Diplomats and dignitaries from various countries conversed in hushed tones, their tailored tuxedos and evening gowns reflecting their high status. Men wore classic black, their bow-ties and pocket squares subtle, yet distinctive touches of personal style. Women, draped in luxurious silk and satin fabrics, shimmered in evening gowns. Jewels glittered at their throats and wrists, adding to the room’s sparkle.

Business moguls and tycoons discussed matters of finance and industry. Clad in bespoke, cut, from the finest cloth. The women wore designer gowns in rich hues—emerald, deep reds, and royal blues—each dress a work of art. Their hair was styled to perfection, in intricate updos, or sleek cascading waves.

Artists and celebrities added flair to the gathering. From the men’s avant-garde ensembles, to the women’s bold fashion-forward gowns, with daring cuts and vibrant colors. Nobles wore tails, white ties, and vintage gowns; their attire evoking an earlier, more formal age.

Near the grand staircase, scholars and intellectuals engaged in animated discussion. Their attire, understated, yet no less sophisticated, favored tweeds and muted tones that spoke of intellectual pursuits, rather than ostentatious wealth.

As they mingled, the air was filled with the soft hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

 

Victor slipped through the side door into the castle’s kitchen, his waiter’s uniform already making him blend seamlessly with the staff. He was dressed impeccably in a crisp white shirt, black vest, and tailored black trousers. His hands were gloved, the gloves feeling as uncomfortable as his bow tie. The air was filled with the rich aroma of roasting meats and freshly baked bread, a symphony of scents that danced together in the warm, bustling space.

In his mind’s eye, Victor had envisioned a medieval castle kitchen, but that was not what he found. The kitchen was outfitted with an island that served as a bustling hub of activity, discreet spice racks opened with a light press, and its wooden shelves were lined with jars of exotic flavors.

The fireplace nook, once the heart of the kitchen’s warmth, now housed a modern range cooker, its sleek lines juxtaposed against the ancient stone. Massive wooden beams stretched across the vaulted ceiling, supporting iron chandeliers that bathed the space in a warm, golden glow. The walls, clad in ancient stone, held the history of centuries past, their rugged surfaces softened by patches of Castle Cream paint that had weathered time, with grace.

The head chef, Micheal entered the bustling kitchen. His voice, commanding and tinged with a hint of steel, cut through the noise that surrounded them.

“Listen up, everyone,” the chef began, his eyes narrowing slightly as he addressed the attentive faces of his team. “Tonight is not just any night. We have some of the most influential guests this castle has ever seen, and they expect nothing short of perfection from us.”

He paused for a moment, letting the gravity of his words settle in. The kitchen fell silent. “Each plate that leaves this kitchen reflects our skill, our dedication, and our pride,” the chef continued, his tone unwavering. “We cannot afford any mistakes. Every dish must be impeccable, and every presentation—flawless. Our reputation—and our client’s reputation—is on the line tonight.”

There was a sternness in the chef’s voice, a subtle undercurrent of warning that conveyed the consequences of falling short. Victor sensed the weight of it. “Precision, timing, and attention to detail. These are our priorities tonight,” the chef emphasized, his gaze sweeping over the assembled waitstaff. “You are ambassadors of this kitchen, representatives of our standards of excellence. Don’t disappoint.”

With that final admonition, the chef dismissed them, his expression firm yet resolute. Victor and his fellow servers exchanged glances, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge ahead.

Dr. Victor Frank observed the kitchen staff with an admiration of the symphony of motion within the castle kitchen. The staff, clad in crisp whites, moved with practiced efficiency, a testament to their culinary professionalism.

The head Chef stood at the center of the action. He issued explicit instructions, his gaze sweeping the various stations. The team responded seamlessly, each member a vital cog in the well-oiled machine.

Experienced chefs in their signature white jackets and toques conferred in low tones, their focus unwavering as they planned the next course. Sous chefs, their movements precise and confident, relayed instructions and ensured a smooth flow between stations.

Line cooks, the backbone of the operation, wielded their knives with practiced ease. Fresh herbs, just plucked from the castle gardens that morning, were chopped with rhythmic precision. Each ingredient, meticulously measured and artfully arranged, became a building block for the culinary masterpieces taking shape.

The rhythmic clatter of pots and pans mingled with the satisfying sizzle of meat hitting hot stoves. A young apprentice, his eyes shining with eager curiosity, learned the art of stock-making from a seasoned veteran, their collaboration a microcosm of the knowledge transfer that underpinned the kitchen’s success.

In a corner, a pastry chef, her hands moving with the grace of a sculptor, transformed mounds of dough into delicate works of art. Nearby, a team of kitchen porters, their movements unseen but crucial, ensured a smooth flow of ingredients and maintained the spotless order of the kitchen.

The larder staff meticulously managed the castle’s provisions from the pantry. Every ingredient, from the finest cuts of meat to the freshest seasonal vegetables, was accounted for with practiced efficiency.

A team of dedicated butlers, their movements silent and coordinated, prepared for the upcoming service. In the cool, cavernous depths of the wine cellar, the cellarers oversaw the castle’s impressive collection of wines, their domain a quiet contrast to the frenetic energy above.

Victor’s gaze finally landed on his fellow servers. They navigated the bustling kitchen with practiced ease, exchanging nods and brief smiles as they collected trays of exquisite hors d’oeuvres and chilled champagne flutes. Theirs was the final act in the culinary ballet, ensuring a seamless transition from kitchen to table.

But Victor’s mind was focused on a singular task. He navigated the chaotic intensity, making his way to the pantry. Ensuring no one was watching, he left behind the clatter of pots and pans and stepped into the cool silence.

The pantry was a narrow alcove, its stone walls lined with shelves. Jars of preserved fruits and pickled vegetables stood at the ready, their contents waiting patiently for the adept hands that knew how to use them.

Scanning the room, his gaze fell on the ventilation shaft. He took out from his pocket the fork he had retrieved from the utensils that security had approved. He unscrewed the handle from the false fork head, revealing a hex key screwdriver.

He set to work unbolting the grille. Pulling it off, he looked inside. Just as Blue had said, a small duffel bag was hidden inside. He pulled it out, his gloved fingers wrapping around the sturdy handle and unzipped it. Inside the bag, he found the repeaters, the indicator bracelets, plus two earpieces, wireless and discreet; color-coded to his and Blue’s skin tone.

He paused for a moment, realizing the immensity of what he was about to do. He had never committed a crime before. His entire life, even when he hadn’t eaten for days, he had always stuck to the straight and narrow. If he did this, he knew he wouldn’t be the same man anymore.

He took out his indicator bracelet and put it on. Next, he took out one repeater, Blue’s words ringing in his ears, “Remember, after you turn one of these on, we have one hour before they self-destruct.” He turned on the repeater.

Now if Blue was to be believed, he should practically be invisible to the Castle’s cameras and AI system. He pulled out Blue’s indicator bracelet and earpiece. His next task was to get them to her, in the grand entrance hall.

There was a noise at the door. Victor’s head swiveled; he saw the shadow of a figure in the slit. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Could there have been a more incriminating moment to have gotten caught in?

There were muffled voices outside. The shadow, danced around. Victor held his breath, his head pounding with the frantic rhythm of his heart.

The silhouette lingered at the door, then moved on. A sigh of relief escaped Victor’s mouth. He wasted no more time. He quickly pocketed the repeaters, carrying the three of them. Three repeaters, three locations, each one closer and closer to the vault door.

He held Blue’s bracelet and earpiece in his hand. Putting the duffel bag back into the ventilation shaft, he sealed it again and then turned on his earpiece.

“Prometheus, can you hear me?” There was a silence.

“I can hear you loud and clear Victor.” the voice in his ear said. “Have you reached Ms. Blue?”

“No. But I’m on my way.”

He stepped out of the pantry, glancing around to ensure no one had noticed his brief absence. With the duffel bag secured again, he rejoined the flow of activity; he adjusted his black vest; collected a tray of champagne flutes, and made his way toward the grand entrance hall. The grandeur of the castle seemed to amplify as he approached, the distant sound of a string quartet playing a piece, adding to the elegant atmosphere. As he stepped into the hall, the guests swirled around him—a sea of silk and jewels.

Victor moved with purpose, his steps measured and his expression neutral. He spotted Blue standing by a table with skewers and other light fruit snacks.

He approached slowly, with one hand holding up the silver tray with champagne glasses, while the other, behind his back, held the indicator and earpiece. She saw him approaching him and a smile caressed her cheeks.

That was when he noticed a guard moving to stand by her. He slowed his pace, thinking; she noticed and cast a glance around her. Seeing the guard standing by her, she let out an inaudible punt. Victor kept up his stride, trying to be inconspicuous. He arrived at a group of eclectically dressed individuals.

He spun to face them. “Gentlemen, ladies, might I interest you in some refreshments?” he asked with a half bow. Blue, grasping the gesture, stepped forward, walking past him as she swiped the bracelet and earpiece from his hand. She turned away from the guard as she discreetly put them on. The guests, having selected drinks for themselves, continued their chatter. Victor spun once again, and gave her a curt nod, then moved ahead.

“Victor,” the voice came from his earpiece. “Nice save, you’re a natural. Do you remember the locations?” her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, heading to them now,” he replied, his voice equally low.

“Okay good. Prometheus, keep this communication line open and Victor, don’t hesitate to tell us if you encounter a problem.”

“Aye aye captain!” Victor responded.

“Okay, be careful, be discreet, don’t let anyone see you.”

Victor navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of Lord Harrington’s castle. Each step echoed softly against the ancient stone walls, a stark contrast to the lively ambiance that reverberated from the grand entrance hall.

He mentally rehearsed the layout of the castle gleaned from the blueprints. His path a deliberate weave through the castle’s opulent halls. Passing through dimly lit passages, adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of medieval valor. He remained alert keeping to the major thoroughfares frequented by guests, where his presence would be relatively unquestioned.

Soon, Victor arrived at an ornate tapestry depicting a hunting scene of a wolf pack. One of the wolves in the scene stared hauntingly at Victor, a slight green glint in its predatory eyes. Victor pulled his eyes away from the tapestry. Pausing, he scanned the surroundings for any signs of activity. Satisfied that he was alone, his gloved fingers moved to retrieve the first repeater, checking its settings and ensuring it was ready for deployment.

He began his task. He unpeeled the sticker from the back and lifting the frame up gently, he stuck it to the canvas, resting it on the frame.

He stepped back. “Prometheus?”

“The repeater is online and functioning Victor. Well done.” Said the voice in his ear.

“Nice work Victor.” Blue intoned.

Victor looked up at the camera in the hallway and waved.

“Prometheus?” he asked again.

“I’m glad to report Victor that your activity is going undetected. The security staff’s facial expressions are consistent with the facial expression of…boredom.” Prometheus reported.

“What about their AI system?” Victor inquired.

“Eurus is not currently sending any alert data to the security staff,” Prometheus said.

“Okay Victor, head to the other locations,” Blue said over the earpiece.

He made his way to the second location. The ornate vase stood silently in an alcove. It was a piece of undeniable beauty, its porcelain skin etched with an intricate design; a black snake coiling around the vase in an analemma. He crouched beside the vase. His gloved hands gently unscrewed the lid, revealing a hollowed-out space within. He secured the repeater inside, screwing the lid back on, with care.

He stepped back, his eyes scanning the alcove once more. It appeared untouched, the vase blending seamlessly with the opulent decor.

“The second repeater is in place, moving to the third location.” Victor reported, his voice low.

“Confirmed. The repeater is online and operational,” Prometheus responded.

“Okay Victor. It’s time to set the last repeater. Do you remember where?”

“The ventilator shaft nearest the vault door.” He answered.

“Okay good.” She said.

“Yes, I know, some people even consider me above-average in my capacity to remember relevant information. Ah now. What do those people call me? Oh yes! Professor!” Victor quipped.

“Haha, that’s hilarious, professor. Get your above-average ass moving, okay! It’s almost time for the guests to be conducted to the dinner area.”

“Did you just call me fat?”

“Victor!” she intoned.

“Okay okay I’m going; geez Mom!” said Victor as he strode down a hallway. He wound through the mazelike corridors of the castle. Reaching the corridor leading off from the main area to the secluded parts of the castle, he said. “Prometheus?”

“You’re clear for now, Victor, but you must move swiftly.” Said the voice over the earpiece.

Victor let out a deep breath and went down the corridor. He turned a right, then a left, another right; he was making good distance.

“Victor, we have a situation,” Prometheus said.

“What is it?” he asked

“A guard is approaching,”

Victor swiveled and began to retreat towards the turnoff of the previous corridor.

“Wait Victor,” Prometheus began, “while retreating to the corner turn of the previous corridor would be an effective standard strategy. In this case, retreating will place you in the sights of a different guard on his patrol route.”

“So what do we do!?” Victor asked, his tone panicky.

“Prometheus, is there a closet nearby he can jump into, or an open door, or a bathroom?” Came Blue’s voice over the earpiece.

“Yes Blue, but calculating both their strides, Victor will come to within ten seconds of the approaching guard’s turn, into the corridor.”

“Victor, run!” Said Blue

Victor took off down the corridor. “Which door is it?!” He asked as he bolted down the hallway. There was a clicking at the very end of the corridor and a door swung open slightly. Victor deftly slid inside and gently closed it behind him. It clicked again, and then silence.

The man was hard to miss. He was singing a rock-’n-roll song off-key as he came around the corner. Victor heard his steps as he walked past the janitor’s closet, leaning into the door so that he could hear better. He heard the guard steps recede, his croaking voice fading until finally, there was only silence. Victor let out the breath he had been holding. The door clicked open, and he stepped out into the corridor.

He turned the corner and could see the vault door straight ahead. Walking down the corridor, he finally saw it. Getting down on one knee, he began unbolting the grille. When he had gotten all four bolts, he gently pulled apart the grille and stuck the repeater to the inside of the ventilator shaft. Replacing the grille, he screwed it in, and stood up.

“Blue, the last repeater is in place,” Victor reported.

“Yes!” Blue celebrated under her breath. “Okay, you still have to make it back though.”

“On my way,” Victor said and began his walk back to the main area. Prometheus told him to speed up or slow down when necessary, to avoid the guards on the route.

He made his way through the corridors until he could finally hear the sounds of the party. He slowed down, now that he was this close. His heart rate, calming down. He couldn’t believe he’d done it, without getting caught. He had to remind himself that the mission wasn’t over. Blue still had to make the same route that he did to the vault, to retrieve the artifact. The night wasn’t over yet.

“Victor—” came Prometheus’ voice over the earpiece, but it was too late. The door shut behind him and Victor swiveled to look. It was a guard; his hair was tousled and his shirt untucked with a goofy smile on his face. He looked up to see Victor standing there. His eyes widened, and he began to break a sweat.

“Who are you?” he asked as he tucked in his shirt.

Victor’s heart raced as he stood there frozen; his breath caught in his throat. The guard’s eyes narrowed; suspicion etched across his weathered face.

Victor’s mind raced. He needed an excuse—a plausible reason for being here.

“I apologize,” Victor stammered, “I was looking for the bathroom. This place is like a maze.”

The guard looked him up and down. “Weren’t you guys briefed on the bathroom locations for the staff?” He inquired. “This area is off-limits to guests and staff. What’s your name?”

Victor maintained his calm demeanor, trying his best to respond smoothly. “Name’s John. I’m one of the waitstaff for tonight’s event. Just got a bit turned around, that’s all. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

The guard scrutinized him for a moment, his expression hard to read. “You have any identification on you, John?”

“Oh, here you go,” Victor said, handing him his staff pass. “John Smith, huh?” The guard’s suspicion seemed to waver as he sighed. “All right, just this once. The bathrooms are back towards the main hall. Take a left after the portrait of the old lord.”

Victor nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I appreciate the help. I’ll head there straight away.”

The guard waved him off, watching as Victor made his way down the corridor. Victor forced himself to walk calmly, even as he felt the guard’s eyes on his back. As he turned the corner and the guard’s gaze finally left him, he let out a silent breath of relief.

“Nicely done Victor,” Blue said over the earpiece.

“Indeed, your ability to remain calm under pressure is admirable Victor.” Came Prometheus’ voice.

“Like I said, he’s a natural,” Blue added.

“Oh no, please, go on.” Victor joked.

“Get to the van and be ready to leave,” Blue said, her smile audible.

But Victor could almost visualize Blue’s focused expression as she continued. “Be cautious on your way out. Once you’re outside, get to the west exit. It’s less guarded. The truck is parked just beyond the tree line. I need you there to help monitor the feeds and be ready for extraction.”

Victor nodded to himself, mentally mapping out his route. “Aye aye captain!”

“Keep me posted until you get to the van.” Blue’s voice softened slightly, a hint of concern creeping in. “Stay safe, Victor.”

A faint smile tugged at Victor’s lips. “I’ll see you soon, Ms. Blue.”

With their conversation concluded, Victor steeled himself for the final leg of his journey. He slipped through the castle’s corridors and found his way back to the kitchen, the activity still at the fever pitch he had left it. Barely anybody noticed him as he slipped out using the side door.

“Blue, I’m outside heading towards the west exit now.” He said over the earpiece.

“Where is the new guy?! Get him here! Now!” The chef screamed from the kitchen. Victor looked back at the kitchen through the side door window, eyes raised, and headed off towards the western gate, throwing his staff identification badge into the bin.

Outside, the night air was cool and crisp. His footsteps were light, his movements fluid as he navigated the garden paths toward the west exit. The sounds of the dinner party grew fainter with each step, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of night birds. As he neared the exit, Victor’s senses were on high alert. He peered around corners, ensuring no guards were in his immediate vicinity. The west exit, as Blue had mentioned, was less guarded, and he slipped through the gate without incident.

He pressed on along the tarmac sidewalk, the light of the gibbous moon piercing the inky blackness casting a dull glow on his path. The copse of trees opposite the castle, rustled in the night breeze, their branches clawing at the night sky, their leaves shimmering in the pale moonlight.

Finally, he spotted the truck, its dark silhouette barely visible in the shrouding darkness. He approached it from the back cautiously. “Prometheus.” He said, and the door unlocked with a soft click. Victor quickly climbed into the back of the truck, closing the door quietly behind him. The interior was dimly lit, the soft glow of the monitors casting an eerie light on the equipment and gear, neatly arranged inside. He took a moment to steady his breath, the adrenaline from his recent close call still coursing through his veins.

He shrugged off the waiter’s vest, its fabric still warm from his body heat, and folded it neatly before setting it aside. His fingers moved quickly to pull off the bow tie and unbutton his crisp white shirt, revealing a dark, form-fitting undershirt designed for ease of movement.

Reaching into a compartment under the bench, Victor pulled out a pair of black cargo pants and a lightweight hooded jacket. Kicking off the polished dress shoes, he pulled down his silk trousers and took them off, replacing them with the cargo pants. He got into the jacket and pulled the hoodie over his head, the comfortable fabric a relief from the shirt and bow tie. Taking out some runners slid into them before finally settling into the seat.

He activated the array of screens and monitors inside the truck. The feeds from the repeaters came to life, providing him with a comprehensive view of the castle’s interior and exterior. Prometheus’ data streams flowing seamlessly. He picked up the headphones to put them on. So far, everything was going according to plan.

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