Chapter 541

Rafael's heart leaped into his throat at the sight of them. Where had these people come from? Some possessed average martial arts skills, needing ropes and grappling hooks to scale the high wall. Who were they? What were their intentions in infiltrating the garrison in the dead of night? If they caused a commotion, Rafael's rescue plan would be ruined.

Although Rafael, Everett, and Jacob were hidden in the shadows, they had to remain silent as the newcomers moved quickly along the wall toward their hiding place. They were powerless to stop them; the guard change was almost over, and they needed to act swiftly.

Thomas and his group also noticed the three men hiding ahead. Concealed in the shadows and dressed in black, their faces uncovered yet still unidentifiable to Thomas. Friend or foe? Their swift movement in the same direction stunned Thomas and his men. Could they be here for the same reason?

It seemed unlikely. Though contact with Starhaven was lost, they knew the new marshal was Oliver, Thomas's brother-in-law—a general more adept at theoretical strategy than battlefield tactics. While not unskilled, his arrogance and self-interest would lead him to choose the easier path; negotiations over rescue, undoubtedly.

Regaining his composure, Thomas signaled his group to proceed with the infiltration.

The large garrison comprised twelve buildings. The dungeon was located in a solitary hut between Buildings 11 and 12, with access from the hut.

25 BONUS

That area was heavily guarded. However, taking advantage of the ongoing guard change, they reached Building 11 without incident. They pressed against its wall, planning to stealthily approach the dungeon entrance and assess the number of guards. A few steps forward brought them into contact with the three figures from earlier, also pressed against the wall. One cautiously peeked out.

The proximity to the dungeon meant better lighting; the shadows of a large tree provided some concealment, though the dim light was preferable to the previous darkness. This allowed Thomas to recognize one of the figures—Rafael, the Hell Monarch.

Gasping, Thomas covered his mouth in disbelief. The prince himself! His heart pounded with excitement. He knew Rafael, the marshal who had reclaimed the Southern Frontier, was reassigned to the capital. His presence here could only mean one thing—he was rescuing Law.

The other men were concealed in the shadows, only their eyes visible. Rafael couldn't identify them, though they were pressed against the same wall. He noticed one figure's tearful eyes, prompting him to cautiously approach.

Thomas pulled down his black mask, revealing his face. Though they'd never fought together, they'd met before. Hoping for recognition, he smiled joyfully at the prince.

Rafael, however, couldn't place the scruffy, tanned face. The tearful smile sparked a thought.

Was it possible?

Thomas raised his fist three times—a signature Sinclair Army gesture performed before battle, accompanied by victory shouts. Thomas's group, moved to tears, mirrored the action, nearly shouting,

+25 BONUS

"Victory!"

Rafael watched, his heart racing.

He silently mouthed, "Who are you?"

"Thomas Farrell," the man mouthed in return.

Rafael was stunned. They assumed Septimus was Thomas. But if Thomas was here, who was the prisoner? It must be one of their own; Thomas's group was clearly here for a rescue.

There was no time for questions. Everett signaled a swift advance.

Rafael placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder, whispering, "Stay here and distract them at a critical moment."

Thomas nodded vigorously, tears welling. Rafael's presence dramatically increased their chances of success.