The hidden passage yawns open behind the altar wall. Golden light writhes across the floorboards, and the ledger in Silas’s hands beats its pages like a trapped bird.
An elderly monk steps from behind a pillar, lantern raised. His face is carved with fatigue, and he plants himself between Silas and the dark opening.
The Elder Monk
Stop there. The roads to White Citadel are already blocked. If you run now, you run into a net.
The door at the far end of the chamber buckles again under a heavy удар, and dust shakes loose from the stained glass above them.
The Elder Monk
The Royal Military has sealed the capital approaches. Their riders take the bridges, their spears take the lanes. You will not reach the city cleanly.
He tilts the lantern toward the ledger, then toward the passage, as if weighing which burden is heavier.
The Elder Monk
Give me the key, or go by the cloisters. Either way, choose quickly, Prophet. They are in the walls now.
“Grabbing a hooded lantern, I keep the key and instead, open the door to the hidden catacombs and head in, taking the elderly monk with me. It would be easy to lose oneself in the extensive catacombs, and few would know the entrance out, but the elderly monk will know the way, and he will be my guide, and my cover!”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled +1)
Silas hooks the lantern free and wrenches the hidden door wider. The ledger stays with him, but the key flashes once in the firelight as the older monk catches his sleeve and follows.
The Elder Monk
He knows the old ways. Good. The catacombs may hide us longer than the halls above.
Cold air breathes out from below, carrying stone dust and ancient incense. Silas drives downward at once, and the monk, after one sharp glance back, moves with him into the dark.
The Elder Monk
Keep the lantern low. The first turns are narrow, then the bones of the abbey open beneath us.
Above them, the distant door shudders again, but the passage swallows the sound. A loose slab swings shut behind their heels, hiding the altar wall from sight.
The Elder Monk
There. You have your cover, and I have my burden. Now do as I say, and we may yet vanish beneath their boots.
Ahead, the stair forks around a carved pillar marked with old soot and candle wax. One way slopes deeper into the catacombs, the other bends toward a barred service hatch with fresh scrape marks on its iron.
“We head deeper into the catacombs. I check our progress with the elderly monk, having him navigate us through the catacombs maze, and to the hidden exit at the far end.”
SUCCESS (Superb Reasoning, rolled +0)
Silas takes the deeper stair. The elder monk moves ahead of him, one palm skimming the damp wall, counting turns under his breath.
The Elder Monk
Left at the pillar. Then three bends, no more. If the marks thin out, we are wrong.
The catacombs narrow, then open into a low passage lined with old niches. Silas keeps the lantern low, and the ledger stays tight against his ribs.
The Elder Monk
There is the old line, carved there. We have not drifted. The hidden way still answers.
Ahead, a dead end of stacked bone-dry crates gives way to a door face lost in shadow. The monk stops, presses his thumb to a cracked stone seam, and a narrow exit panel swings inward.
The Elder Monk
Go. Beyond that opening is the service run, then the outer yard. No torches, no voices.
Silas and the monk slip through at once. Behind them, the catacomb wall settles back into place, and the hidden passage breathes cold air from the far side.