We went through quite a bit along the way, but somehow we managed to steal a couple of riding horses and make our escape. Two of them had been left tied up outside, saddles still in place.

It was about as careless as leaving the key in the ignition of a car. You would not see that among civilians much, but in the military it was common enough—when every second counts, precautions get sloppy.

Disguised as guardsmen, we climbed on as if it were the most natural thing in the world, politely greeted the stable hands in charge of security, and rode out in high spirits.

Already outside the perimeter, we trotted leisurely northward along the dark road.

“Security was a lot laxer than I expected. Is your family estate going to be all right?”

“The stable we just raided only holds the everyday horses. The valuable bloodline stock is kept in a special stable at the manor. That one’s under the guardsmen’s jurisdiction.”

So the real asset-horses were kept elsewhere. From the guardsmen’s point of view, it made sense that they would prioritize watching those. A stable outside the mansion grounds being left weakly guarded was only natural.