Follow The Raven

I woke up feeling better than ever! Minus Remy's bizarre behavior the previous night and the fact that we've been put under house arrest, I honestly couldn't be better! I got out of bed, somehow managing not to trip again (but it was a close one), and walked over to the large window to see the going-ons outside. Apart from the detainment against our wills thing, this city is quite beautiful. What with all the spiritually zen elveswalking gliding minding their own business and the impressive architectural feat of building an entire city some stories in the air much less getting trees to grow that big.

I could hear Damian and Remy talking about something or other in the next room, but that didn't bother me. We've established some hours ago that I am to stay in the dark for that much longer. Whatever. I should be used to being oblivious at this point. As long as it doesn't get me killed, I'm not complaining (that much). I continued to look at the window, the situation coming into full effect. We're stuck in an elven city most probably under high-supervision and it's very doubtful that this is going to end anywhere near enjoyable. The only way this can end well is if we get out of here on our own accord. Not that hard really. As an organized civilization, the city runs on a strict set of regulations; these regulations work only if the people center their days around the following of these regulations; and the only way people can center their days around rules is through habits. Habits being predictable down to a T if observed closely enough.

The guards on patrol have to switch at one point, most likely at precisely calculated totally not sporadic time intervals. Clock-out time is one of the greatest weakness in just about anything. It's a lapse in security, an opening, a large window of opportunity if you can manipulate it accordingly. All I have to do is wait and calculate.

"What are you doing?" Damian asked flopping onto bed several hours later as I sat still in the chair in front of the window, a notepad (thank you Maximilien for remembering that I think better by writing it all down) in my lap, covered in notes and scratches and calculations and a very bizarre diagram of someone pole vaulting and falling into a mote...yeah, I'm not even going to ask myself about that one...

"Waiting," I said absentmindedly as I continued to observe the elves outside. From my study (wow, I sound so scientifical, it's almost scary), I have learned that the civilians move around in packs only: no loners, no straddlers, nothing of that sort. They move around from one place to the next, going to eat at very precise hours, taking their after-eating naps at precise hours, and going on philosophical 'walks of enlightenment.' *Cough* Sorry, getting a bit out of hand there. Anyway, the guards rotate every four hours, leaving a 2 minute (I know, I was shocked at how slopy they are about doing this myself) interval between shifts. The archers, actually aren't very reliable, considering the fact that one group I was watching was playing some sort of card game and an apple stand got robbed of, dundundun, two apples by some kid, street urchin probably.

"For...," Damian asked lazily.

"The perfect opportunity," I replied, never taking my eyes off the window. The calculations and timings are almost perfect, but there is just one little thing that could get in our ways if worse come to worse, and I want to rule that possibility out by planning this down perfectly.

"What are you doing?" He asked curiously, his head lifting slightly to look at me.

"Getting us out of here, duh," I stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I haven't had any breakfast, that one archer playing the harp is really starting to piss me off, and I realize that I don't even know what that little factor that could cause a problem even is. It's just that I feel like somethings there, something that I'm not seeing but is there and should be taken into account before doing anything.

"Hey!" I exclaimed as Damian ripped my notepad out of my hands, making me look away from the window. Must. look. at. the window. Ignore Damian. Can't. He has my notebook and I need that to think the whole thing through! Damn inconvenient distractions!

"Give that back!" I said, making to go grab it but he pulled it out of my reach.

"What is this?" He asked disturbed. Considering that some of my notes are sideways, upside down, and backwards, yeah, I'll give him a reason to be disturbed.

"The escape plan," I said, completely forgetting the notepad and just going back to watching the outside.

"Is any of this even logical?" He asked skeptically.

"Yes, now shh," I shushed him, trying to find the last factor in the equation. Great, now I sound super mathematical. In reality, math and science were my second best subjects, after history (naturally) and literature. I'm actually not all that logical, I'm just strategical, as the kids used to say it. Observing all of human history gives you a few key lessons to abide to for any situation. One) in any situation, no matter the degree of danger or the amount of time allotted, it is wisest to stop for a moment and get your bearings down; Two) once you have your bearings down, figure out the probability of a successful campaign; Three) if a successful campaign is absolutely impossible, figure out the probability of losing, without losing too much; Four) factors must be identified, and dealt with in the most appropriate manner; and Five) when in doubt, just go out there screaming your head off and hope they get weirded out and just stand there. Any questions?

"Why am I being shushed?" He asked.

"Thinking, shush please," I said in irritation, but keeping my eyes on the outside surroundings.

"Wow, I had no idea you're able to think," he said, continuing to rotate my notepad in a clockwise circle, probably trying to figure out what exactly all of those things mean.

"You'd be surprised, now shush," I said harshly, finding the last remaining factor. Brigo! How could I have missed him? Sitting there on that porch on the lower level of one of the adjacent trees, watching his surroundings as well. Alright, two can play that game. Thank goodness I placed the chair a few feet away from the window to avoid being seen by anyone from the lower levels and the ground and closing the basically sheer and useless curtains, somewhat concealing me from the higher levels and the canopies of the trees.

"Damian, was Brigo's company with him at dinner last night?" I asked, grabbing my notepad right out of his hands and starting to write down my newest discovery and coming up with a full plan.

"Uh," he stuttered, making me just walk out into the living room and pulling Remy into the bedroom with me, just in case they can hear through the walls of the living room from the entrance of the flat.

"Remy, was Brigo's company with him at dinner last night?" I repeated, as Remy sat down, this time hoping I'll get a decent answer.

"Yes, I believe they were there, protecting the Royal Family," he said thoughtfully.

"Think hard, Remy, were all fourteen of them there?" I asked, wanting to get my facts straight. If there is anything that can go wrong, it most definitely will go wrong; that's why I need to be sure that nothing of the sorts can happen.

"No, one was missing," he said after a few minutes of thinking, making my heart sink. Damn, where is number fourteen then? All of them are down there surrounding him now. Why would he send one of them away during dinner? And to where?

"There is no way to get out of this place," Damian concluded, in a sulking manner. I beg your pardon? We're just giving up now? No, not on my watch buster.

"It's doable," I retorted, putting my hands on my hips.

"It's impossible," he shot back, looking at me from his lounging position on the bed.

"Hello, you're talking to the only human able to live among the dead in the land of the living and now the only human to have crossed the gate still alive to the world of the dead," I said, skeptically. You're seriously talking to the wrong person about 'impossible.' And anyway! 'Impossible' is not a French word, convenient considering the fact that we are technically in France.

"Touche," he submitted after a moment, probably trying to find a comeback to that. When I get started, there is seriously no way to stop me.

"Tell us Lara, what can you tell us?" Remy asked attentively.

"Yes, tell us what you of all people could have probably figured out in a world with which you are unfamiliar," Damian said sarcastically.

"You'd be surprised," I said turning to a new page in my notepad. Might as well make this simple, for Damian's sake.

"Every four hours, the civilians move to various activities, eating, sleeping, whatever, they all go at the same time, leaving a complete opening in the pathways once they've reached their destination for a minimum of ten minutes," I started, Damian already finding ways to counter my 'super scientifical study'.

"You know, there are guards, and archers in the higher parts of the trees," Damian interrupted.

"I was just getting to that if you would give me a chance to speak," I said, trying to sound as sweet as possible while sitting back down in the chair now facing them.

"So go," he ushered, like his interruption never occurred. Rude prick.

"I am. Now, the guards and archers rotate every four hours as well, two minutes after the civilians have gotten to their destinations, leaving another two minute window of weakness for anything to get in," I explained, continuing to write out the basics for them.

"Or out," Remy said, catching on. I nodded.

"Right, we have to watch out for Brigo and his company though, we basically agree that he's a threat?" I asked for verification.

"He's the threat, sweetheart," Damian stated, making me glare at him.

"Don't call me sweetheart. As long as just a few of them, not a whole company, gets in our way, we could get out of here relatively unscathed," I said.

"Sounds a bit risky," Remy said hesitantly.

"I know, but it's as much as I could get from a window," I said shrugging.

"It'll have to do, it's risky just staying here. When's the next rotation-thing?" Damian asked.

"An hour and 23 minutes," I said, looking over at the clock over the door. Alright! Let's get Operation Escape-Elf-Land underway! Woohoo! Who's ready to storm out into an elven capital in hopes of escaping with only one weapon-oriented member? Yeah! I am psyched!