Once again, a tiny inn room on the second storey of the Verdant Drinkhouse in the Norzeen District became a ring of chairs and a den of schemers. The chairs were varied—some were battered and stained with soot from a chimney. Others were built with sturdy arms and freshly washed cushions. The schemers were the same; Renado felt worn out by the echoing streets and weeping citizens of the city, while Woodro leaned forward, eager for the plots to be determined.
Ren’s voice hissed through the dusty, makeshift meeting room. “So the ideal time will be late afternoon or early evening,” he decided, after input from Sarno.
The man had grown a small beard as short and thin as his brown trim. Both features were flashed in the slated rays of sunlight from the window as Sarno gave Ren a nod. “Will there be a time or signal, specifically?”
“No, it won’t work that regimented,” Ren said. “My uncle and I frequently planned divergent schemes. They need room to squirm, so each component will present its greatest weakness. If King Turim is too secure at the fight ring he attends, an attack there might fail. Perhaps the team targeting him will need to follow him into the streets, after its done. Early evening will only be the time where each is at the location we have planned as the most likely to show such a weakness.”
“And if King Turim isn’t at the arena?” asked Asar.
Ren shrugged. “We need this to succeed as swiftly as possible, so the Mage Kings have little opportunity to respond. Unlike the plans laid by the lost revolution. I would suggest,” he pursed his lips in thought, “that we afford each target a chance to reappear or be found by our searching. But by the time all the other plans should be completed, I want everyone to go into hiding. Win or lose, after an hour or two, everyone should be hidden.”
Virn’s sombre voice drawled, “And then what?”
“Then, after two day’s time, we reunite. I’ve chosen the classier Targon Tavern for our destination. It’s adjacent to the largest bathhouse in Pranan’s Hill,” Ren said. Everyone nodded. After this small place, a fancy inn would be appreciated. Ren hoped it would also be secure; they would be travellers arriving in Ith’s hopeful chaos, not people who had lived there a month, plotting. “Everyone on board?”
The group gave him nods all around. Everyone was there, though one of Sarno’s men kept watch by the door. Karsef piped up, “Who will target whom?”
The first half of the discussion had outlined the findings of their reconnaissance. On the thirtieth of the fourth Moon, three Mage Kings would attend a feast in district of Pranan’s Hill. At the same time, two would be meditating and training in the illustrious Vinu Court, with only their guards. King Ulren was assumed to be frequenting his usual whorehouse then, while King Novilo spent the afternoon surveying the daily progress on his work-in-progress palace. He did that every afternoon. Lastly, King Turim would attend the weekly arena match, this time on his own.
“Put me in the thick of it,” Woodro said, as Ren looked at his notes.
Ren chuckled. “Woodro, then, will go against the trio at the feast, backed by one of our Circle warriors, yes?”
Kazra nodded, while muttering that Woodro would be backing them, not vice versa.
“Kazra then,” Ren decided. “Should I assign more there?”
“Even with eleven, we’ll be stretched thin against eight sorcerers,” Karsef said, folding his arms. “Assign the others and if anyone is left, put them on the feast with those two.”
Ren nodded. “Alright. I think Virn should assist against the duo,” he decided.
Virn nodded. “I’m inclined to agree. The two training magicians could pose a threat as they may be more prepared for combat. A skilled warrior should join me.”
“I will, then,” Renado said. Then he scanned his men, each looking at him blankly. “For the brothel… Asar, why don’t you go. One of Sarno’s men too?”
Sarno nodded. “Dorvigo.” The respective man saluted.
Asar grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep in mine that my goal there is to kill Ulren, not take in the environ.”
A few chuckles broke out among the group of men. Ren looked at Kazra, in case it bothered her, but she smiled too. He looked back at his men. “That leaves two Mage Kings. Karsef, I think you should be involved in the attack at the arena. King Turim will require the most tactical, in-the-field decision making. If the slaves in the fight ring would provide support—or the crowd, for that matter—then move on him there. If not, follow him into the streets.”
Karsef nodded. “Who will go with me?”
“No one,” Ren said, with a shrug and a straight face. Then, seeing Karsef balk, he grinned. Another round of chuckles broke out. As it subsided, Ren looked at Sarno. “Take another of Sarno’s men.”
“Crollem,” said the mercenary sergeant. “Which leaves Red and myself to take out Novilo, at his new mansion.”
Renado nodded. “And leaves only two for the feast,” he said, grimly.
“I wouldn’t worry,” piped Woodro, drawing a scoff from Kazra. “She and I can handle it.” Kazra gave Renado a nod. She was quiet today, content to let Renado plan the entire assault.
Renado made a few scratches in his notebook, to connect each warrior to his respective target. He knew they wouldn’t all make it, but he hoped such a swift, coordinated attack would accomplish the mission. “Let’s go over it again,” he said. “And again tomorrow. We have three days. Before any of you know it, you’ll be fighting men who have ruled longer than any of us have been alive.”