Chapter 17 - Into the Smuggler's Den
Midnight descended over the western coastline with a heavy, salt-laden fog that rolled inland like a grey blanket.
Sera, dressed in dark leather scouting gear rather than royal silks, led a small, highly mobile strike team consisting of Rhys, four elite northern guards, and two trusted scouts. They moved silently along the rocky cliffs overlooking the hidden smuggling inlet.
Below them, tucked into a concealed sea cave, a dozen men were unloading heavy wooden crates from a moored galley. Torches flickered against the damp stone walls, casting eerie, dancing shadows across piles of stolen weapons and grain sacks.
“There are more of them than we anticipated,” Rhys whispered, crouching beside Sera behind a cluster of jagged boulders. “At least thirty armed mercenaries.”
“Numbers don't matter when they don't know we’re coming,” Sera whispered back, unholstering a pair of heavy daggers at her belt. “We hit the torches first to plunge them into darkness, then sweep through the lower tunnels before they can sound an alarm.”
Rhys looked at her, a rare, genuine smile breaking through his stern expression. “You really were born for the battlefield, weren't you?”
“No,” Sera replied quietly, her eyes fixed on the target below. “I was born in a gutter. The battlefield just gave me room to swing back.”
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With a synchronized hand signal, the strike team moved.
They dropped down from the cliffside like shadows, landing softly on the sandy shore of the sea cave. Before the guards could react, Sera shattered the main oil lanterns with precise knife throws, plunging the cavern into absolute darkness, illuminated only by the faint, dying embers of a cooking fire.
