The outer courtyard had been chaotic, a mismatched mess of tents, crude barricades, and bandits lazing about in whatever comfort they could scavenge. The scene had been exactly what Kael expected—a rabble of deserters and brigands, their discipline long eroded by greed and violence.
But that was only the surface. Now, as he stood in the shadow of the keep, the true nature of the Wild Boars revealed itself.
This was no mere bandit camp.
The keep's walls loomed above him, smooth, fortified stone, with torchlight flickering from arrow slits. The main entrance was impossible—two guards stood at attention, their post unwavering. There were no signs of sloppy negligence like in the outer courtyard.
Kael crouched, his eyes scanning the structure.
He remember that old fortress designs from his aprentice days. If this keep followed a similar layout, there would be secondary access points, likely small service doors, hidden side entrances, or old maintenance passages meant for movement between levels.
Then he saw it.
A ventilation shaft, partially obscured by a collapsed section of the wall. It was narrow, likely meant for airflow rather than access, but with some effort, he could squeeze through.
Kael moved swiftly, climbing up the uneven stone and slipping into the dark opening. The space was tight, forcing him to crawl through the dust-choked tunnel. His body pressed against cold, damp stone, the air stale with the scent of aged mortar and rust.
Minutes passed and then light. He reached the end of the shaft, pushing against a rusted metal grate. With a silent effort, he dislodged it, carefully lowering himself into the keep's interior corridor. And immediately, he knew.
This place was nothing like the outside.
The hallway before him was clean. Not in the way of nobles, but in the strict, military fashion of a well-run garrison. The torches burned evenly, their light reflecting off polished stone floors. Weapons were properly maintained, hung in precise formations on the walls, rather than being left scattered.
Then came the men.
Some wore the black plate armor of Nilfgaard, polished, well-kept, their movements disciplined. Others, dressed in leather, carried themselves with the efficiency of scouts and assassins. Not a single man stumbled. Not a single one smelled of alcohol or stale sweat. There was no drunken laughter or idle chatter. This was not the lair of looters and raiders.
This was a fully operational military force.
Kael moved carefully along the corridor, staying in the blind spots of the patrols. The path to the leader's chambers was heavily guarded. A set of double doors, reinforced with steel bands, was positioned at the end of the hallway. At least six guards stood watch over the entrance—two in Nilfgaardian plate, standing firm like statues, while the others, clad in dark leather, watched the hallway with sharp, focused gazes And to make matters worse above, from a balcony overlooking the corridor, archers stood at the ready, their eyes constantly scanning for any sign of movement.
Of course, Kael as a witcher knew patience and so he wait in a dark corner, hidden from the light of the bonfires and torches, away from the prying eyes of the nilfgardians, waiting for the exact moment to act. And that moment finally came well into the night when most guard had already ended their day and try to catch sleep, and those in the balcony and the door where no different. The guards at the door had diminish from six to two, the two wore the ninfgardian plate armor like it would protect them from any and all dangers, but it won't protect them from him. Regarding the archers, they had let a couple of hours ago, posibly patrolling at other places in the keep.
And so he moved, like a shadow dancing in the dark, but he didn't go directly toward the doors, no, he went toward their water source, a a small opening that created a small pool of water in the keep, there he drop a Hanged Man's Venom whole, makig sure that all who drank will earn a swift death. With that finish he made his way toward the double doors guard by the two soldiers, to end them quick and swift he climb a ledge, from where he fire a bolt from a borrow crossbow he took from the ground. The bolt shot with impresive speed meeting the neck of the soldier on the left, and before the one in the right could say or do anything another bolt came perforing his eye, killing him instantly unlike his partner.
The second man collapsed with a dull clatter, his armored body slumping against the stone floor without a sound of protest. The only thing left was the faint hiss of his final breath leaving his lungs, a sigh into the void. Kael remained motionless for a breath longer, watching from the ledge above. No alarm. No footsteps rushing down the corridor. Just the subtle crackle of distant torches and the echo of wind drifting through the high halls.
He descended in silence, boots barely touching stone, his motions smooth and precise. The corpses were already still, there was no need for clean-up. No one would come looking until morning, if then. Now the double doors loomed before him. He pressed a gloved hand to the wood, tested the latch, 'unlocked'. A mistake they would not live to correct.
With that Kael slipped inside.