# **CHAPTER 12: "THE DESCENT BEGINS"**
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The underground tunnels beneath Lumeria were older than the city above.
Kael and Theron descended through maintenance passages that smelled of damp stone and forgotten years. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. Their footsteps echoed off walls that had been carved centuries ago, back when the city was smaller, simpler, less concerned with appearing perfect.
Theron led with a small lantern he'd found in the jail's storage room. The light cast long shadows that moved with them like silent companions.
"These tunnels connect to everything," Theron explained quietly. "The Eidric suppression system for the Royal Jail needs regular maintenance. There are access points—usually locked, but if we can find the right one..."
"We get in without going through the front door," Kael finished.
"Exactly. Guards watch the main entrance. Nobody watches maintenance tunnels."
They moved deeper, following Theron's memory of maps he'd studied months ago when he first started researching how to reach Alkeos. The passages branched and intersected, forming a maze that would lose anyone unfamiliar with the layout.
But Theron knew where he was going.
"This way," he said, turning down a narrower corridor. "The Royal Jail's eastern maintenance shaft should be—"
He stopped.
Ahead, the tunnel was blocked.
Not collapsed. Not natural. Someone had built a wall across the passage—fresh stonework, new mortar, still slightly damp. Construction materials were stacked nearby: unused bricks, tools, bags of cement mix.
A sign hung on the wall: *MAINTENANCE CLOSURE - AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY - SECURITY PROTOCOL DELTA*
Kael moved closer, examining the blockage. Solid. Recent. Deliberate.
"When did this happen?" he asked.
"It wasn't here last month. I checked these tunnels when..." Theron's voice trailed off. "When I was still planning to do this alone."
"Can we break through?"
"Not quietly. And not quickly." Theron touched the wall, frowning. "This is professional work. Royal masons. They sealed this deliberately."
"Why?"
"Security protocol." Theron turned, scanning the corridor. "When they're moving high-value prisoners, or when there's a sensitive situation inside the jail, they seal off all alternate access points. Forces everyone to use the main entrance where security is tightest."
Kael looked back the way they'd come. "How many other tunnels lead to the Royal Jail?"
"Three that I know of. But if they sealed this one..." Theron's expression was grim. "They sealed all of them. Standard procedure."
"So we're blocked."
"Completely."
They stood in silence for a moment, the reality settling over them. The entire plan—sneaking in through maintenance tunnels, avoiding guards, reaching Alkeos quietly—was gone. Just like that. A wall in the darkness, and all their carefully considered approach was useless.
"We go back," Theron said finally. "Try again later when security relaxes."
"When will that be?"
"I don't know. Days. Maybe weeks."
Kael thought about that. About Alkeos, locked away somewhere in the mountain above them. About Liora and Rynn, somewhere in the city, probably worried. About the fact that every hour they delayed was another hour for things to get worse.
"No," he said.
"What?"
"We're not waiting. We're here. We're ready. We find another way."
"There is no other way. The tunnels are sealed. The only entrance left is—" Theron stopped, understanding dawning. "You can't be serious."
"The main entrance. Through the front door."
"That's suicide. Royal Jail security isn't like normal jail. These are trained guards. Elite Force subordinates. Eidric suppression fields. You can't just walk in."
"Then we don't walk in." Kael turned back toward the surface. "We do something they won't expect."
"Like what?"
"I don't know yet. But you're the one who knows Lumeria. You know how their systems work. How their guards think. How their bureaucracy operates." Kael started walking. "So you're going to figure it out."
Theron hurried after him. "Figure what out?"
"How to get inside without fighting our way through fifty guards."
"That's impossible."
"You said the same thing about escaping the normal jail."
"That was different! That was—" Theron stopped himself, thinking. "That was exploiting their assumptions. Making them believe we belonged there just long enough to get out."
"So do it again. But bigger."
They climbed back through the tunnels, emerging into the pre-dawn darkness of Lumeria's streets. The city was still mostly asleep, just the earliest workers beginning their shifts, a few guards on patrol.
They found a quiet alley and sat, backs against a wall, while Theron pulled out his notebook and started writing furiously.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's think this through. Royal Jail security. Main entrance. How it works. Who goes in. Who doesn't. What they're watching for. What they're not watching for."
Kael waited, letting Theron work. The scholar's mind was methodical, precise, turning the problem over from every angle.
"Guards are trained to stop intruders," Theron said, more to himself than Kael. "People sneaking in. People fighting. People with obvious hostile intent. They have procedures for all of that. Protocols. Responses."
"But?"
"But..." Theron tapped his pencil against the notebook. "But the Royal Jail isn't just a prison. It's part of Lumeria's government structure. Which means it has bureaucracy. Administration. Internal procedures that guards have to follow."
"I'm not following."
"The jail is designed to stop outside threats. People trying to break in from beyond the system. But what about people operating *within* the system? What about procedures so routine that guards don't question them?"
Kael was starting to understand. "You want to make them think we're supposed to be there."
"More than that." Theron's eyes were bright now, pieces clicking together. "I want to make them afraid to question us. There's a hierarchy in Lumeria. Guards. Officers. Administrative staff. And above all of them... internal authority. The kind that doesn't explain itself. The kind that just shows up with sealed orders and expects obedience."
"Can we fake that?"
"Maybe." Theron was writing faster now, sketching diagrams, noting details. "We'd need the right look. The right timing. The right approach. And..." He hesitated. "And we'd need to be absolutely confident. No hesitation. No uncertainty. The moment we look like we don't belong, it falls apart."
"What do we need?"
Theron looked up from his notebook. "Documentation. Something that looks official enough to pass a quick inspection. We can modify what we took from the normal jail—burn the edges, make it look urgent and mishandled. Guards won't ask too many questions about documents that seem above their authority level."
"What else?"
"Timing. There's a shift change at the Royal Jail every six hours. For about twenty minutes during the overlap, the old guards want to leave and the new guards don't want to take responsibility for anything unusual. That's our window."
"And then?"
"Then we walk in like we own the place." Theron's smile was slightly manic. "No sneaking. No fighting. Just bureaucratic authority and institutional fear. We make them believe we're the kind of people they don't want to anger by asking stupid questions."
Kael thought about that. About pretending to be something he wasn't. About using fear and lies instead of direct confrontation.
It felt wrong. Dishonest.
But it also felt *smart*. And if it got them to Alkeos without unnecessary violence...
"Explain the full plan," he said.
Theron shook his head. "Can't. Not yet. Too many variables I need to confirm. Guard rotations. Document formats. The exact phrases that work in Lumeria's bureaucratic language." He looked at Kael seriously. "But the core idea? We don't sneak in. We don't fight in. We make the system itself let us through because questioning us would be more dangerous than just obeying."
"That's insane."
"Completely." Theron was still smiling. "But it's our only option. Unless you want to wait weeks."
Kael looked toward the east, where somewhere beyond the white marble buildings, the Royal Jail was carved into the mountain. Where Alkeos was imprisoned, if things had gone as wrong as he suspected.
"When's the next shift change?"
"Noon. Six hours from now."
"Then we have six hours to prepare." Kael stood, offering Theron a hand up. "What do we need to do?"
"First, we modify those documents from the jail. Make them look important and urgent. Second, we need to look the part—not like guards, like something above guards. And third..." Theron's expression was serious now. "We need to practice. The attitude. The confidence. The way we move and talk. One slip, one moment of uncertainty, and guards will realize we don't belong."
"Then we practice."
They spent the next hours in careful preparation. Theron worked on the documents, burning edges carefully, smudging seals in specific ways, altering text with steady hands. He explained the psychology as he worked—how bureaucrats think, what makes them afraid to question, why messy documents from higher authority are scarier than clean ones.
Meanwhile, Kael practiced moving differently. Not sneaking. Not aggressive. Just... purposeful. Confident. Like someone who expected to be obeyed without explanation. It felt unnatural, but Theron kept correcting him until it looked right.
"You're too nice," Theron said. "You look like you want to help people. You need to look like helping people is beneath you. Like you have more important things to do and anyone delaying you is risking their career."
"I don't know how to look like that."
"Then think about someone who made you feel small. Someone with power who didn't care about you. How did they move? How did they make you feel?"
Kael thought about the nobles who'd gotten him arrested. About their casual cruelty. Their certainty that consequences didn't apply to them.
He tried again.
"Better," Theron said. "Much better. Terrifying, actually."
The hours passed. The sun rose properly, painting Lumeria's white marble gold. The city woke fully, citizens moving about their days, completely unaware that two escaped prisoners were planning to walk straight into the most secure prison in the nation.
As noon approached, they moved through the streets toward the administrative quarter. Toward the mountain. Toward the Royal Jail.
Theron checked his modified documents one last time. "These should work. Probably. Maybe. Gods, I hope these work."
"They'll work," Kael said with more confidence than he felt.
"And if they don't?"
"Then we improvise."
"That's not a plan."
"It's the best we have."
They walked through the final streets, past the last checkpoints, past guards who glanced at them but saw nothing worth investigating. Just two more people moving through the city with purpose.
The Royal Jail loomed ahead.
Massive. Carved into the mountainside. Stone so old it predated Lumeria itself. Gates of reinforced iron. Guards in formations, alert and professional. Everything about it screamed *impenetrable*.
Kael and Theron approached the main entrance.
Guards noticed them. Hands moved toward weapons, ready but not hostile. Waiting to see what happened next.
Theron's hand touched Kael's arm briefly—a signal. *Ready?*
Kael nodded slightly. *Ready.*
They walked forward, toward the gates, toward the guards, toward the impossible task of talking their way into a prison designed to keep everyone out.
And somewhere behind those walls, in darkness and chains, Alkeos waited.
Not knowing help was coming.
Not knowing two idiots with a stolen guard pouch and modified documents were about to try the most audacious bluff in Lumeria's history.
The gates stood before them.
The guards watched.
And Theron took a breath, preparing to become someone he wasn't, to speak words designed to make men afraid, to weaponize the very system meant to stop them.
"Here we go," he whispered.
Then they stepped forward.
Into the light.
Into the lie.
Into whatever came next.
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**END CHAPTER 12**
**END VOLUME 2**
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