Snippet #1481570

As Sir Sidin made his supervising rounds across the city, it occurred to him that the sky above Newhaven was entirely unfitting for the current situation. The morning was a brilliant blue, with the sun shining brightly overhead and not a cloud in the sky: perfect weather for a time of peace. A more forgiving time, where the nobleman would have been lazing about at the family manor, basking in the pleasures of youth, and entirely ignorant of the world around him. But in this time of war, with the city still in disarray and the advantage lying with Blackpond, a cloudy sky would have been more appropriate...

Which is not to say that things were entirely doomed: Newhaven was the best city in the world, and even these numerous turns of misfortune were only a temporary setback. Thomas was sure that the people of Newhaven would at least be able to fight Blackpond to a standstill, at which point the knights could determine whether or not it would be a good idea to continue the war or see if the city to the North would accept a peace that would eventually lead to the economic dominance of Newhaven.

By that point, Sir Sidin had made his way to the castle walls, where he stopped - after all, he expected to be meeting someone here - and took a glimpse at the once magnificent structure that the walls protected. Thomas' mind involuntary went back to the day of his knighting, as personally performed by the king himself - it was a grand ceremony, but one that was unlikely to be seen again. Unless...

"The missing prince..."

Thomas murmured the words to himself in an unbelieving whisper: the White Knights had served at the side of the rightful King of Newhaven for generations, which is why they had sent out a party to find the last known scion of the royal line. But the odds of finding him were slim, and the knight was very much occupied with the dealings of the city that were occurring in the here and now.

With that, a man in a hooded green cloak came up to the walls and saluted Sir Sidin. Thomas saluted the man back, and figuring him to be the messenger that his spy had sent, handed the man a letter with the seal of the White Knights on it and instructions to deliver the letter to Commander Boris by the former East Gate. As the man scurried off, and Thomas walked back towards the direction that he came from, the knight was somewhat saddened by the knowledge that neither would reach their destination as intended: seeing as both Thomas and his spy knew that the man in the latter's employ was a Blackpond agent who had previously been fed false information and now was nothing more than a liability. The envelope was covered with a slow-acting contact anaesthetic that would put the man to sleep sometime on his way to the East Gate and Boris had been instructed to keep a few men on watch for a man who collapsed in the middle of the street so that he could be quietly imprisoned under the guise of having the guard take the man away to a hospital. Of course, the man would have to be replaced by one who Thomas could guarantee was in his employ so that the charade could continue and his enemy counterpart wouldn't suspect a thing, surely as the same was being done in Blackpond at this very moment. Such was this war, closer to politics than the actual fighting...

With that, Thomas let out a yawn: In order to make sure that the man didn't suspect a thing, the knight hadn't worn any gloves, subjecting himself to the same anaesthetic - so it seemed that he would be getting to lie around like a lump after all. But unlike the messenger, Thomas had taken care to ensure that his nap was going to be followed by a pleasant (and not a rude) awakening.