[IRP] Vanguard Rising

[Alusq]

Nichol followed in silence as the sentry led him through the hallways to reach a stairway a few junctions ahead of where Ambrose and the others made their own ascent. Though he tried to take in as much as possible, there weren't many sights to see, and it wasn't just because of the sparseness of the lighting. He saw only one other person, someone plodding down an intersecting hallway just after the stairs. There was one more hallway, an unusually dark one at that. Some of the candles must've gone out with no one to notice them. Nichol sensed danger as he found himself being led up a stairwell whose lighting was in a similar state, and...

"I— I hope this will suffice for the night, sir," the sentry said, gesturing through a sudden doorway towards a bedroom.
"Hm... Yes, this will do," Nichol replied. He surprised himself with how much fun he'd been having with his theatrics. Observing the bedroom in the light of the sentry's lantern, the furnishings were spartan but not entirely barren.

He could hide a body under the bed.

"Right," Nichol continued. "Back to your post, then. Get some rest. I'll announce myself properly come sunup."

The sentry turned, and Nichol's hand darted to his sidearm... but he hesitated. Could he actually pull off a stealthy takedown? And was it even necessary? No. Let him go back to sleep. It wasn't nearly as risky, besides. Briefly, memories of garrison life came flooding into Nichol's head. The vast majority of a fortress's occupants, he knew from experience, were simply looking after their own selves and putting the bare minimum of effort into their duties. The sentry would, in all likelihood, mind his own business.

Or he'll raise a proper alarm and that'll well and truly be the end of me. Nichol had killed for the greater good before. He would do so again.

"Long live the Kingdom," he whispered as his dagger met the young man's throat. It didn't make it any easier to snuff out the life of someone who'd done nothing but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He'd basically tackled the sentry against the wall to cover his mouth and execute him. It wasn't a glamourous assаssination, but Nichol was fairly sure the dull thumps and murmurs hadn't carried all the way to the hall downstairs where he'd last seen another guard. Once he was sure the man was dead, he stowed the body under the bed, wrapped in the mildewy blanket that had formerly adorned it.

Nichol crept down another hallway, but not the way he'd come; instead, he elected to go in the same direction the first set of stairs from before had led, with the idea that he would eventually cross paths with his comrades. He came upon a walkway leading outside: to his surprise, it led down to where several watchmen stood facing away. Was he already in the inner sanctum?

Nichol heard the approaching sound of armour, and it wasn't his. He thought about snuffing out the candles... No! Too damned many of those to make a difference!

Lacking any better idea, he ducked out onto the walkway and stood guard. His armour wasn't the same, but perhaps all he needed to do in the low lighting was strike the same pose as the other guards. Despite the chill air, he felt like sweating. He tried to listen for the patrolling guard's footsteps over the whistle of the wind and the pounding of his heart. After what felt like an eternity, the footsteps passed him by. He wasn't even sure if this was enough to make the sentinels raise an eyebrow at all.

... Wait a second. That guard was going the same direction I was. And if the others took those stairs before, then that would mean...