25. Sinking Away (2)
In the dim alley on the outskirts of the industrial complex, three shadows huddled together in a spot untouched even by torchlight.
"You sure about this? If we get caught, it's gonna be a huge mess."
Despite the worried whisper from the young voice, the other two were too busy scanning their surroundings—in a blind spot away from the soldiers' patrol routes. Once they were certain no one was around, the three finally put their heads together in earnest.
"No choice. If we let things go on like this, it'll all come crashing down any day now. We gotta strike first."
The other two nodded at the resolute words from the slender voice, and the worried one spoke up cautiously again.
"What if he resists and says no?"
To that question, the burly figure with the thick lines creased his brow and whispered in a voice softer than his build suggested.
"No matter how important it is, a day off won't make much difference. If he resists, we'll just carry him out kicking and screaming."
The atmosphere grew tense with grim determination. To an outsider, they might've looked like a secret society plotting to assassinate a tyrant—but their sinister conspiracy crumbled at the arrival of an uninvited guest.
"Hey, you there!"
The three shoulders jumped in unison at the stern voice. A soldier was striding quickly toward the suspicious huddle in the shadowy corner. But as he drew close and made out their faces, his eyes narrowed.
"What are you three doing out here?"
The voice belonged to Karad, one of the complex's guards. The trio's reactions varied wildly. Miriam quickly pressed a finger to her lips with a shh, Rashid stared off at some distant mountain like nothing was amiss, and the youngest, Hasim, fidgeted anxiously with his fingers.
"Shh... We're in the middle of an important operation, so keep it quiet."
Karad blinked in bewilderment at Miriam's whisper. Recruit him or chase him off?
"Sis... what do we do? Pull Karad in too?"
"Hold on... Rashid, think it'd be good to bring Karad along?"
"Hmm, having a guard in the know would make things smoother. Karad seems just right for it."
Karad, wide-eyed and standing right there, scratched his cheek awkwardly as he waited for their verdict. Finally unable to hold back, he leaned against the wall and asked,
"Just how grand is this scheme of yours? Dawn's gonna break at this rate."
His prodding brought their brief debate to a close.
"Karad, unless you're essential, stay quiet. Got it? We're plotting a major rescue op right now."
Karad's impassive gaze sharpened at Miriam's whisper.
"Rescue? You don't mean something's happened to the complex lord...?"
"No, nothing like that. But if we leave him be, it's gonna be a disaster. You've seen how he's been lately, right?"
Karad nodded immediately. The complex lord Baraka's workaholism was infamous even among the guards. The dark circles under his eyes, the scruffy beard, the way he'd stare into space to swallow his frustration. Anyone could see he was at his limit—a textbook case of burnout.
"So, what's the plan?"
Miriam grinned like she'd been waiting for that. Even in the gloom, her radiant smile shone through. The face that had been scheming moments ago now lit up with a bold, cheerful expression and the excited voice of a girl anticipating a picnic as she opened her mouth to reply.
"The key is prying work away from a workaholic! We're all going on a fun outing to the Guta Oasis. Cool river water, ripe apricots and all sorts of fruits everywhere! We'll make our complex lord rest up good there!"
Miriam was already mentally at the oasis, spinning her arms in delight—a gesture so adorable anyone would smile. But Karad eyed her enthusiasm with concern.
"The thing is, the Guta Oasis is right in the path the cross-worshippers would take pushing toward Damascus... You sure that's safe?"
His valid point and worry fell on deaf ears. Miriam, with her outing all planned out, wasn't fazed. She was more focused on shoving through the vacation than fretting over Crusaders who hadn't even properly invaded yet.
"No real news of an attack yet, and when else are we going? Traders from other regions who've passed through rave about how pretty it is. Trees lining the river path, apricots ripening yellow on every branch right now. If we don't go soon, we'll miss out big time!"
She emphasized "miss out big time" with special fervor, making her eagerness crystal clear. Her lively voice filled the narrow alley, like a tour guide hyping up the destination to customers. Eyes sparkling, she hammered home the plan's core.
The others nodded, but Karad's expression toward the Guta destination remained ambivalent. Even if the war was in a lull, was heading to a strategic oasis right now wise? But he shelved the thought. Malik Duqaq of Damascus showed no signs of marching out, and Crusader movements were quiet. Thwarting her intent to let everyone catch a breath before battle wasn't his place.
Meanwhile, Miriam laid out her haphazard "master plan" with gusto.
"If we ask nicely, he'll never go. So we drag him! Rashid shoulders him, Hasim snatches the blueprints. You open the back gate. Perfect, right?"
"...Is this really okay?"
Karad glanced at Rashid, who just shrugged nonchalantly. No one was on the side of the complex lord buried in work—not even himself, who couldn't even take care of his own needs.
"It's fine. If one day off for the lord caused issues, they'd have happened already. The complex isn't gonna collapse like a twig. This is all on him for pushing too hard—at least that's how I see it."
With Rashid, the complex lord's first disciple, saying that much, Karad nodded obediently. As a mere guard, he had no say anyway.
"Alright then... If that's the case, who am I to argue? Take him. My shift's at the back gate tomorrow morning with my junior—come that way, and I'll keep quiet and hold it open."
"Yay, knew you'd get it! Operation starts at dawn tomorrow! Dismissed!"
Like a street boss, Miriam called them together and sent them scattering. And so, in the heart of Damascus, a cute conspiracy for one man's sake unfolded through the night.
Hammer strikes roused the complex at dawn. Truth be told, it never really slept. Night-shift artisans tending the forges, steady shift rotations—the unrelenting flames proved overwhelming productivity. How could anyone douse those fires and halt production before fulfilling Duqaq's orders? Not a chance.
Inside that hive, I was slumped over my desk in the office, glaring at blueprints. I'd been wrestling with designs and calculations to screw over Justus de Rethel, but my brain just wouldn't turn over. Stuck staring at the drawings.
"Lord, you should rest. You haven't slept properly in days, have you?"
Hasim entered with a tray of steaming qatarmizat, glancing around the office. Blueprints I'd botched and tossed littered the floor—a mess. Trying to gauge how long it'd been, but my brain rebelled even at simple math. Rubbing my gritty eyes did nothing for the sleepiness that wouldn't come. Annoying.
Was the stress worse than I thought? My head felt like it'd forgotten how to sleep. Shaking it only made it heavier. Modern me knew this was textbook stress—no rest when overwhelmed. Even medieval folk got that; they just lacked the word "stress."
But the nagging question: Why the hell am I this stressed? That's the real issue.
Back home, no sleep meant coffee and smokes to power through; insomnia got drowned in booze till blackout. Healthy sleep? Never my thing. Insomnia's practically a modern rite of passage.
"Sigh... Sweet tea's nice, but fetch some cold water first."
As scattered thoughts swirled, Hasim's call snapped me back. I asked for cold water over hot tea to wake up—but his reply was unexpected.
"I can get it, but... dousing yourself won't unstick that brain of yours."
Hasim, usually quick on his feet, eyed me oddly, lingering without moving. My sleep-deprived noggin missed the off vibe, just flopping back onto the desk. I lifted my head, but my fingers trembled faintly. Fixable with sleep—or a nicotine/caffeine hit to delay it.
Neither option available now. God, just one smoke...
The office door flew open then.
"Knew it'd be like this."
Lifting my head, there stood Miriam in unfamiliar garb: light chemise and vibrant caftan. Not her usual lively workwear, but picnic-ready maiden chic. I nearly dropped my pen.
"Miriam? What's up this early..."
Before my groggy words finished, she and Rashid, following behind, moved in sync.
"What else? Kidnapping time! Today's itinerary: outing!"
"Apologies, but we're forcing a day off today!"
Before I could process, my body soared. My reflexes, on strike, only kicked in with flailing limbs after landing on Rashid's shoulder.
"Wha—hey? Rashid, put me d—!"
"Give up. You're half-asleep and reacting slow—flailing won't help."
Hasim calmly rolled up my blueprints, stashed them, grabbed my cloak in a flash, and followed Rashid out—sporting a bright, treacherous grin.
Miriam led the way, Rashid sack-of-potatoes'd me after, Hasim brought up the rear. Artisan encounters spiked in the corridors. My authority visibly eroding in real time; felt my dignity slumping too. Or is that my body?
Anyway, amid plummeting morale and skyrocketing shame, we hit the central yard. Rashid bellowed to the resting crew:
"Listen up! Complex lord's on special leave today. Work as usual, rest on schedule. No screw-ups, take breaks at your discretion. Got it?"
His booming declaration lit up faces instantly.
"Rest well, lord!"
"We'll handle things—no worries, go eat your fill of apricots!"
This ain't right. How's no one fazed by their boss getting hauled like luggage? Wrong hires? Still, futile struggles continued.
"Let go! Rashid! Is this how you treat your master? Hasim, you'll regret this—no soup for you later!"
"Well said, master."
Rashid plodded on.
"Overheat steel too long, and it cracks. Think of today as cooldown day."
"You little...!"
Logical disciple left me speechless. We reached the back gate. The guard, face flushed holding back laughs, swung it open—infuriating.
Bribe the captain?
Silly thought aside, three camels waited outside—prepped in advance. Mine plopped on the only double-humped one's saddle. Miriam hopped on quick, pressing against my back.
"Camels all saddled—no escaping. Today, just rest."
Her playful whisper tickled my ear. Morning sun made her smile dazzling; I averted my eyes. Resigned, I leaned into the camel's hump.
Behind, forge smoke faded; fresh meadow breeze replaced the smog.
No nicotine, no caffeine... Medieval life's barren.
Modern staples absent, but Miriam's chatter, Rashid's solid back, Hasim's gentle smile... made me think,
This kinda surprise event? Not bad once in a while...
Swallowing a wry grin, I stroked our camel's neck. The 12th-century sun blazed, but the wind to Guta Oasis was perfectly cool. Thus, my first outing stretched toward Damascus's green horizon.