The West Wing was a desolate stretch of cold stone and flickering torchlight. This was infact, the wrongdoings from the previous bandits earlier, it was muddy, and even Plasma was straight up laughing at me.
"Roxy, look at the tiles, it's muddy."
"Oh shut up, will you?"
"Oh come on Roxy, you can shapeshift into bandits from now, not some disgusting maid. You even ate that decomposing rot out of your mouth. What level of stunt you have there."
"Shut up."
My knees hit the floor as I resumed the rhythmic, agonizingly slow motion of mopping. Beside me, Joy was a silent machine of labor, her golden ears pinned back in exhaustion. Every time I passed the window, my eyes burned a hole through the glass.
The two bandits outside hadn't moved an inch. Their heavy armor clinked as they leaned over the crate, their faces illuminated by a nearby brazier.
"Hey, that was not on the rules!" one barked
"You brat, you're checkmated! Accept it and pay up," the other sneered.
"Fine, fine. Rematch. Best of three determines who gets the extra ale ration."
I felt a vein throb in my forehead. They were treating this like a grand tournament while the clock on my life and Mochi's mission ticked toward zero. My knuckles turned white against the mop handle, the wood groaning under the pressure of my fury.
I leaned into my shoulder, my voice a jagged whisper.
"Mochi, they're starting a rematch. They aren't going anywhere. I'm going to have to take them out."
"Negative, Roxy. The courtyard is too open. If you drop them, the archers on the ramparts will see the bodies before you even touch the lever. The risk is too high. We're calling it. Withdraw. We'll try to find a new opening tomorrow."
"Wait, you're joking, right? I will not survive this hellhole for another twenty-four hours. I don't want to taste that mush again, Mochi. I can't eat that rot twice."
"Survive another day in the manor, You're Elias's sister, after all. You should have his resilience."
The mention of my brother's name felt like a slap. The grief and the anger I had been suppressing surged to the surface.
"Wait, why are you bringing up my brother? Why are you blaming him for this?"
The earpiece went dead with a sharp, final click.
I stared at the wall, stunned and fuming. Joy looked over at me, her brow furrowed in concern.
"Clara? You're talking to yourself again. Is the amnesia getting worse?"
"I'm fine, just... thinking about the kids."
I looked back at the window. The moon was almost in position. Mochi wanted me to retreat, to go back to a cold bed and a bowl of garbage, but he didn't understand. I wasn't just playing a part. I was carrying the weight of Clara's life, the memory of Miera's face, and the insult to my brother's name.
I didn't put the mop down. Instead, I looked at the bucket of dirty, soapy water. If Mochi wouldn't give me a distraction, I would make one myself.
"I'm not staying here another night, rematch is over."
The heavy silence of the West Wing was broken only by the distant, rhythmic clinking of the bandits' armor. I knew that if I followed Mochi's order to retreat, the window of opportunity would slam shut forever. My heart hammered against my ribs, not with the frantic beat of a frightened maid, but with the cold, calculated thrum of a saboteur.
"I'm going out to clear the rear garden path, the head housekeeper complained about the leaves blocking the drainage earlier."
Joy barely looked up from her mop, her movements mechanical and drained.
"Be careful, Clara. The night air is sharp, and the guards are in a foul mood."
I slipped out through the service door, the transition from the stifling manor air to the biting cold of the courtyard making my borrowed skin prickle. I grabbed a rusted iron rake leaning against the stone wall and began to drag it through the dirt. The scraping sound was consistent, mundane, and entirely beneath the notice of the two men at the crate.
I moved slowly, inching toward the towering wooden scaffolding that had been erected against the manor wall for repairs. It loomed directly over the guards, a skeletal structure of heavy timber and crossbeams held together by iron bolts and tension.
The two bandits were leaning in close now, their eyes glued to the chess pieces.
"Knight to E4, your move, coward."
"Shut up and let me think,"
I positioned myself behind the main support pillar of the scaffolding, pretending to gather a pile of dead leaves. My eyes locked onto the primary structural bolt, a thick, rusted iron pin that bore the weight of the upper platforms. It was loose, vibrating slightly with every gust of wind.
"Roxy, did you see that?"
"Indeed Plasma, but it is risky."
"Based from my calculations, what you're looking Roxy, is a blind spot for archers, I studied the structure of the wall very well, so if you pulled the bolt, it'll create a distraction."
"Thanks Plasma, I knew i count on you."
I reached out, my fingers trembling as I gripped the cold metal. With a sudden, violent twist of my borrowed strength, I yanked the bolt free.
The effect was instantaneous. A low, ominous groan rippled through the wood. I dove toward a nearby hedge as the entire structure buckled. With a deafening crack, the scaffolding folded in on itself. Huge sacks of unmixed mortar and piles of dried lime stored on the upper levels burst upon impact, creating a massive, choking cloud of white dust and grey smoke that swallowed the courtyard in seconds.
"Gah! My eyes!"
"What the hell? The wall is coming down!"
The bandits scrambled away from the crate, coughing and blind, their chess game forgotten in the chaos. This was my moment.
I surged out of the shadows, my silhouette hidden by the thick white haze. I didn't head for the guards; I headed for the alcove. I reached through the cloud, my hand finding the cold, heavy iron of the gate lever. It was slick with oil and grime, but I threw my entire weight against it.
clack-whirrrrrrr.
Deep within the stone walls, the ancient gears groaned to life. The heavy side gate began its slow, grinding ascent. I stayed low to the ground, the lime dust coating my maid's uniform until I looked like a ghost emerging from the fog.
I tapped the mana-stone behind my ear, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"The door is open, The path is clear."
The smoke began to settle, revealing the two guards still stumbling around, their faces white with dust and their dignity shattered. Through the earpiece, I heard the faint, metallic scrape of a blade being drawn and the sound of someone scaling stone at high speed.
Mochi's voice crackled through, no longer cold or dismissive, but filled with the sharp edge of a predator ready to strike.
"Nice work, Roxy. We're inside."