CHAPTER 52: RED SERPENTS

The gang regrouped in the heart of the city, inside a modest house tucked within a sprawling residential zone. Each man carried supplies received from Prestor, as their expressions were unreadable and they all moved towards their headquarters.

This place was the Red Serpent Gang’s covert headquarters. As they entered, they were greeted by their leader, Arnot, who was already waiting. His first words were sharp. "Where are Zorthar’s men?" he asked the crew who had earlier met with Prestor.

They dropped the bags filled with money onto the table and unzipped them. "He’s not sending anyone," one replied flatly. Another chimed in, "Looks like they are scared of the City Guard after that new commander stepped in."

Arnot’s gaze fell on the money inside. "Cowards. But generous ones, apparently." Then his eyes shifted to the barrels stacked along the wall. "What’s with the thunder barrels?"

"He said to use them to blow open the Palace gates," came the response.

Arnot chuckled darkly. "Of course he did. That bastard doesn’t want to risk any of his own men, knowing damn well what kind of shitstorm an assault on the Palace will stir, especially from the royals and nobles."

"So should we go through with it, boss?" one of the Red Serpents asked, uncertain in his voice. After all, an attack like this could provoke a brutal response from the Angeras Knights.

Arnot didn’t hesitate. "No, not directly. Once this is done, we will flee south and blend into Zorthar territory. With this cash, we can establish a new base there."

That idea eased the tension among the group. Their earlier doubts about the future now seemed a little less threatening.

Still, someone voiced a concern. "But will Zorthar even allow us to move in?"

Arnot tapped the table with a confident grin. "They won’t have a choice. We’ve got records of everything we’ve done for them, with these ledgers, logs, and names. We’ll hand it all to the government if they refuse. Either they let us in, or they get burned with us."

A round of laughter echoed through the hideout. The idea of blackmailing one of the city’s most powerful criminal families had a twisted appeal.

Arnot then strolled over to inspect the barrels. "These things are worth a damn fortune. Just selling one could buy you a new life."

That drew questions from the group. "Could we sell one?"

Arnot burst into laughter. "Sure, if you want to end up dead and dragged through the streets. Possessing one of these things is practically a death sentence, not just for you, but for everyone you know. Zorthar’s name can’t be tied to this."

He turned serious again. "So, what’s the job? What does Prestor want from us?"

The same man answered, "He wants the barrels used to blow up the Palace gate. Then we’re supposed to snatch a few City Guards, do whatever we want with them, and leave their bodies at the City Centre by dawn."

Arnot scratched at the short, rough hairs on his chin. "That’s gonna be tough. The Guard’s on high alert lately, patrolling in tight, well armed formations, and that too without any gaps."

He stood in silence for a few moments, considering his options as his men threw out random suggestions but most of them absurd. One even proposed attacking the City Guard’s main fortress in the city’s center, an idea Arnot immediately dismissed as suicidal.

Thunder barrels might have been powerful, but they weren’t infinite. They needed a plan that minimised combat but delivered maximum impact.

"Distraction," Arnot muttered, resting a hand on one of the barrels and rubbing the lid thoughtfully. A smirk stretched across his face. "Here’s what we’ll do. We use all the barrels to blow the Palace gate sky high."

One of his men raised a concern. "But boss, shouldn’t we save some barrels for fighting off the Guard once the gate’s down?"

Arnot grinned and placed a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. "No need. That explosion is the fight. There are no guards stationed to guard the Palace gates right now. We blow the gate, bail immediately before the patrols can respond."

"But what then?" someone asked.

Arnot laid it out clearly. "Once the Palace goes boom, all the guards will rush over there, even the patrol units. That’s when you shadow them. As soon as the explosion goes off, nab a few. Use the paralysis drugs and target the female guards."

His tone took on a darker, perverse edge, and several men chuckled. The Red Serpents had a notorious reputation for targeting women as kidnapping, raping, and exploiting them for blackmail. They preyed on the vulnerable, the ones least able to fight back.

But the City Guard was another story. Their women were trained, disciplined, and capable of handling most thugs in a direct fight. The only way to take them down was with surprise, numbers, or by immobilizing them.

The plan was now in motion. The Red Serpents dispersed using narrow back alleyways and hidden routes using the paths which the City Guard didn’t bother patrolling due to their preference for wide roads where patrols could move in organized, ten-man squads.

Their total strength was two hundred. Arnot broke them down accordingly. "A hundred of you carry the barrels, each with ten scouts to track patrols and report movements. As soon as the barrels are in place, blow them immediately. Don’t wait. Get in, plant, and then run."

"The rest of you," he said, turning to the others, "split into small teams. Tail the patrols quietly. Once the blast hits, grab any female guards you can buy only if you’re sure you won’t get caught. If there’s even a hint of risk, retreat."

Arnot was firm. He didn’t want any of his men captured. If even one of them got arrested, the Red Serpents would come under the full wrath of the city’s government and military. This needed to be clean, precise, and deniable.

This wasn’t about conquering. It was about delivering a clear, brutal message, one that Prestor and the Zorthar family could point to as a statement of power, without ever being publicly involved.

[To be Continued]