Chapter 19: The High Ground

Vapgis nodded without another word. Gripping Juliet’s arm, the two quickly turned transparent under the shroud of invisibility.

A few seconds later, Aurora stood alone.

Only a patch of disturbed dust on the floor remained, evidence that someone had stood there.

Aurora took a deep breath and turned to face the heavy iron door of the dungeon.

The plan was simple—after getting out, she would deliberately expose herself, pretending to be lost. Then, she would invoke the identity of Marquis Ed’s daughter and demand to see her father.

A legitimate, dignified exit.

So what if she didn’t have invisibility? She wasn’t some shady character. She was the daughter of the esteemed Marquis Ed. If she walked out openly, who would dare lay a hand on her?

Aurora pushed open the iron door. The hinges let out a low groan.

She listened.

The corridor was silent, not even a footstep.

—Where were the guards?

The patrol she had lured away earlier with a simple illusion hadn’t returned yet?

Aurora poked her head out, glanced left and right, and confirmed the corridor was empty. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Quick, come on,” she whispered behind her.

Two invisible footfalls followed closely, hurrying through the corridor.

After rounding a corner, they reached a fork leading to the upper levels. Aurora stopped.

“Vapgis, take her this way. Find a corner to hide and change clothes.”

A faint response came from the air: “Got it. Be careful yourself.”

“Don’t worry.”

Aurora waved her hand, watching the two invisible presences fade into the distance.

When the footsteps completely disappeared, she clapped her hands together and rolled her neck.

Alright, time for this young lady to take the stage.

She smoothed the wrinkles of her nun’s habit—well, it was already crumpled anyway, no point fussing.

Aurora straightened her back, intentionally walking with heavy steps, swaggering toward where the guards might appear.

Her expression? She’d put on an innocent face that said, “I have no idea how I ended up here.”

From around the corner at the end of the corridor came a familiar sound.

Heavy, steady, each step accompanied by the dull clank of metal joints.

Aurora’s steps came to an abrupt halt.

Full plate armor.

In Frania, only one kind of person wore such gear—the Frank Guard.

A tall figure emerged from the corner, silver-white plate armor glinting coldly in the dim corridor.

He had obviously seen her too.

The armored soldier halted, raising a hand to slowly lower his visor.

The faceplate covered most of his face, and with the dim light, Aurora could only make out a vague outline—sharp features, she thought, but couldn’t tell exactly.

Aurora did not approach.

In her mind flashed the scene from the dungeon earlier—that figure clad in full plate, drawing a scroll from his waist and ruthlessly slaughtering the merchants in their cells.

That man had worn the same armor.

She maintained her distance, her mind racing.

The other spoke first.

“Miss Aurora, what brings you here?”

A handsome male voice, neither servile nor arrogant, with just the right amount of politeness and surprise.

Aurora’s heart jolted.

He knew her.

Not just “heard the Marquis has a daughter” kind of knowing—he called her by name, his tone as natural as if they’d met more than once.

But she racked her brains and couldn’t recall ever dealing with the Frank Guard.

Except

The trial.

That farcical hearing in the Royal Council chamber, where the queen accused her of blasphemy and heresy, and all the nobles and guards stared at the golden-haired girl standing tall in the defendant’s box.

The Frank Guard was the king’s personal guard, responsible for palace security during the trial, so they were present throughout.

Meaning this man had been standing somewhere in that chamber, watching the whole trial through his visor.

He had remembered her face.

And she didn’t even know what he looked like.

Aurora took a half-step back, putting on a harmless smile, her tone as casual as possible.

“I’m looking for my father. Do you know where the Marquis is?”

The armored soldier nodded slightly.

“The Marquis is handling affairs in the throne room. I can take you there.”

Perfect manners, impeccable etiquette.

But Aurora’s mind was filled with that dungeon scene—the armored figure drawing his sword and killing, clean and swift, in under ten seconds.

They said killers often returned to the scene of the crime. Was he that audacious murderer?

At least, she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

She smiled and waved her hand.

“Thanks, no need to trouble yourself. I’ll find my own way.”

As she spoke, her right hand hanging at her side had already started moving.

She gestured subtly, trying not to attract attention.

The spell model formed in her mind, ready to activate at a moment’s notice.

The armored soldier didn’t reply.

A second of silence.

Then he moved.

Without warning, the moment his right hand gripped the sword hilt, his entire body launched forward. The plate armor screeched as he sprinted, blade unsheathing with a flash of silver.

Aurora’s pupils contracted. Her right hand shot forward.

“Grease!”

A layer of transparent oil instantly covered the ground between them, gleaming sickly in the torchlight.

The full-speed charging soldier stepped onto it. His armored boots slipped, and the heavy steel body lost balance, crashing to the ground with a thunderous clatter.

Clang—!

Aurora didn’t stop for a second.

Her left hand traced rapidly, and a second spell detonated.

“Expeditious Retreat!”

Warm magic flowed from her soles up to her calves. Her legs became light as air, each step covering twice the normal distance.

She turned and ran.

Behind her came the metallic scrape of the soldier getting up.

Very close.

Aurora ran for her life, ears strained.

The metal clanks behind her weren’t fading.

They were getting closer.

She couldn’t help glancing back and nearly cursed aloud.

The man in silver-white plate was sprinting, his movements so fluid it was hard to believe he was wearing dozens of pounds of steel. The joints clattered with each stride, but his speed and agility were unimpaired.

Full plate armor was supposed to be bulky and heavy, wasn’t it?

Aurora mentally cursed all those knight novel authors. Liars, every one of them.

Can’t outrun him in a straight line.

Her eyes swept the corridor. Suddenly she spotted a stone staircase ahead to the left—a narrow stairway leading to the castle’s watchtower.

Can’t outrun you? I’ll go high.

Aurora veered sharply, using the momentum from Expeditious Retreat to bound up the stairs, taking them three at a time. The staircase was narrow; the soldier’s broad shoulders would have trouble maneuvering between the walls. That gave her precious seconds.

A ladder.

The final segment was a wooden straight ladder leading to the observation platform atop the watchtower.

Aurora scrambled up, turned around, and stood firm, looking down from above.

The afternoon sunlight blazed off the soldier’s silver armor, dazzling her eyes.

He had reached the bottom of the ladder, looking up at her.

Aurora leaned on the railing, catching her breath, then spread her arms and laughed.

“I have the high ground now.”

The armored soldier paused for a second. His handsome voice came from behind the visor, unhurried.

“Having the high ground does you no good. I’ll climb up and catch you.”

As he spoke, he reached out and grasped the ladder’s rung.

Aurora tilted her head, golden hair whipping in the wind.

“I know you’ll climb up,” she said.

Her tone was as calm as if she weren’t being hunted.

Her hands began to gesture openly in front of her, each movement clear and unhidden—almost as if she were showing him on purpose.

The spell model formed.

“Feather Fall.”

A faint golden glow enveloped her, as light as a feather.

The soldier’s movement paused.

Aurora flashed him a brilliant smile, then burst into laughter.

“Hahaha, fool! This is my escape plan!”

She turned, took a running start—the hem of her nun’s habit flapping—and without hesitation, stepped onto the low wall at the edge of the watchtower.

She leaped.

The sunlight was blinding. Wind filled her robes. Her golden hair exploded like a banner.

Feather Fall caught her smoothly, her descent as slow as a drifting leaf, floating and bobbing in the bright daylight.

Above, a dull metallic thud—the soldier slamming his fist against the railing.

Aurora looked up, waving at the silver figure.

Her laughter echoed under the clear sky, utterly defiant.

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