Prologue—Discharged

There is nothing in the air but coldness. A never-ending chill that could tickle down someone's spine without any chance of relinquishing anything but fear.

The men stand guard just as they're told, but cannot let go of the chilling fear around them. They are frozen, not only with the cold or fear, but do not speak and stare ahead into the darkness in utter silence. One swallows deeply, attempting to warm his throat, but it does not change only increases his uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The wood ahead snaps.

Both guards clutch at their weapons and take a step forward.

"Who goes there?" one exclaims.

There is nothing but silence afterward. They listen intensely as if, provided they were quiet enough, they would be able to hear another sound or perhaps a breath.

Nothing.

"It was probably just an animal," one guard sighs.

But the first is not convinced it was an animal. The other guard lets out nervous laughter.

"Not to afraid are you, Thatcher?" he says with shaky laughter.

But then, with the teasing soldier still smiling, an arrow slices the corner of his neck and immediately falls unconscious, though the wound is not fatal. He drops to the ground with an insignificant thud.

The remaining guard becomes alert and opens his mouth to call to others, but another arrow sinks through the left side of his face, cutting his cheekbone slightly, and causing him to fall unconscious like his poisoned comrade.

The two unconscious men lie in complete silence for a moment, as if to allow to moon to observe more thoroughly, then a figure walks from the shadows. The sound had not come from the figure—such a mistake was not possible in such a person.

The sentries walking the castle walls above passed from above, but the figure had already passed the bodies and is now hidden from view, as were the unconscious men. The sentries continued on.

The figure slides into the inner corridor of the gates and runs gloved hands over the stone wall. With the slightest pressure, one particular stone caves and a stone below slides open—an escape tunnel for the royal family to escape in case of attack; rather cowardly tactic that had not been used by the current line of royals. This tunnel would bring the figure behind city walls and into the lower town.

The figure—hooded with a mask to cover the nose and mouth—slips lithely through town without the night watch seeing toward the citadel. There would be more guards there, but none that the figure could not pass.

Cold air rushes through the figure's clothing and has no negative affect—courage is a consistent feeling in this particular person therefore the chill is not painful or effective. Running through the night had rather invigorating affect on the figure—intoxicating and incredible. The kind of intoxicating after a great victory of battle or the discovery of something good for the world's well-being cannot be produced unnaturally. The figure thrived on intoxication induced by danger—and sneaking into Camelot in the dead of night was certainly dangerous.

The figure climbed atop a forge next to the citadel's gates. Walking very slowly and without a sound so not to disturb those who lived in the forge below, the figure's back presses against the citadel's wall and sucks in sharp air, eyeing the guards below.

The figure then slowly, meticulously, pulls out a bow and arrow, lying on the forge's roof behind a chimney. A small crack in between two bricks at the top of the walls was the target. With a rope tied to the arrow, the figure shoots surely. The arrow pierces in between the two bricks and stays secure. The figure releases the rope to it gently glides to the wall.

Then the figure, with belly pressed to the roof, shoots another arrow twenty feet past the far right guard.

Both guards react and grip their spears.

"Who's there?" one calls.

They pull their swords out and investigate the sharp sound of an arrow piercing a wooden post that was invisible to them.

The figure quickly throws the bow overhead and grips the rope tightly. Climbing at an accelerated rate, the figure reaches the top of the walls and slides in an opening to the bridge.

"You there!" a sentry calls.

In a single move, the figure throws an arrow with incredible speed at the sentry. The arrow pins through the sentry's boot and cuts him slightly so he fell unconscious as the others did.

"Sound the warning bell!" a sentry who saw calls out.

The figure curses and turns to the other side of the wall. The figure pulls out a very sharp dagger and jumps down the side of the wall. The sentry reaches where the figure jumped and watches at the dagger slows the descent, causing sparks to fly incredibly as steel hits stone.

The figure runs quickly through the citadel and two knights with their swords drawn approach.

The figure leaps with one foot up a barrel and uses the sudden height to elbow one knight in the area between his shoulder and neck. For the other, the figure pulls the other knight's sword from his hand and quickly disarms the other. Then the figure holds the wide part of the blade and strikes the remaining and bewildered knight in the face, knocking him down next to his fellow nobleman.

The figure drops the sword and runs through a gate in the servant's quarters. As the warning bell rings and knights and guards and the entire castle wakes, the figure scurries without notice through the tunnels—knowledge known through sheer second-word and memory of that word. The only pause the figure made is when a running handmaiden knocks over a candelabra igniting a tapestry on fire. The figure was chased briefly by someone, but the fire and the figure's second-hand knowledge of the castle proved effective and the pursuit ended.

Then the figure reaches below the castle where the treasury is. There is no guard, no knight nor nobleman in sight, not even a servant but the figure is not tempted to take any of the rich treasures before.

Instead, the figure pulls the Embolis out and looks at it for a moment. The relic shines on its own accord, glowing like the eyes of one with magic, and tingles with heat. The figure almost shudders, wondering what powerful magic lay nearby that caused the relic to react. The figure gently places the Embolis underneath an untouched treasure that is no longer of much value and ensures that it does not look like anyone had been there.

Then the figure slowly turns away, ignoring riches and wonderment so that the Embolis would be safe from the wrong hands.