Black Saint: Prologue

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By Taran Mehta, Staff Writer

2:04 AM | Castle Fowlsfield | Kingdom of Tarsingston

“Brenna, hand me the lockpick,” muttered Wallace as he nudged the lock.

She reached into her sack, fiddled around, and pulled out a lockpick. Appearing to be built from salvaged scrap, Tania handed the lockpick to him. Glancing around, they cautiously picked the lock and creaked open the gate. At such a ghastly hour, guards were not on their highest alert. They managed to edge their way in and seal the gate. A long and lengthy pathway lay ahead of them, leading up towards the castle. They scampered up the side, tucked behind the bushes. Two guards stood sturdy on the foyer of the castle doors.
“Remember the plan, no margin for error. Understood?” Wallace reinforced.

“Understood,” Brenna replied.

They wrapped around the castle, steering their way to the hidden sewer entrance. They descended the ladder and into the sewage system. A maze, but not tricky enough for them. However, the sewage was so revolting that they had to hold their breath as they traversed through. They noticed a gap in the system and eventually ran across the exit.
“We get in, grab the stone, and leave. As easy as fate wants it to be,” Wallace clarified.

With no hesitation, they creaked open the door and set foot into the castle. They fastened the door behind them and deliberately headed towards the vault room. They mapped out the area, making sure to steer clear of the traps and guards inside the tower. They inched their way through the halls so silently that even the trickling of dirt off the aged walls sounded like echoes in a cave. The candle flames sat deep within their wax molds, held on the walls by iron sconces. The hall was dim, with doors on either side.

“…242,243,244… Vault Room. Here we go,” murmured Wallace.

He reached out his hand and attempted to rotate the knob, but it did not budge.

“A key, Wallace. We need a key,” whispered Brenna.

He glanced at her, then back at the knob. He pulled the lockpick out, hoping he could pick the keyhole. However, no favor was put in his way.

“I did not notice this when scouting the area. No matter, I saw one of the guards with a key on his cincture. He was located near the basement. It seems to be the same shape as the lock. Let us go at once,” Wallace explained.

They hastily started towards the stairwell. As they descended, Brenna noticed a small pressure plate. Wallace was unaware, and his foot had stepped directly on it. With almost no time at hand to perform any major action, Brenna lunged forth and shoved Wallace away from the collapsing spikes.

“Brenna! Watch ou-”