The Gate Traveler-Chapter 50B5 - : A Hitchhiker’s Guide to Grand-Scale Rescues

Mahya counted the cores, her fingers moving with reverence as she tallied each one. She gave the box one last loving stroke with a satisfied nod, sighing like a mother parting with a beloved child. Then, she stored it away in one fluid motion, sprang to her feet, and grabbed me in a sudden twirl.

I barely had time to register what was happening before she locked me in a waltzing pose, spinning me across the room like we were at some grand ball. Her eyes glazed over in a dreamy expression, her steps light and exaggeratedly graceful.

“Sing something,” she demanded, dipping me as if this were some dramatic performance.

Still trying to regain my balance, I blinked at her. “How many were there?”

She hummed, twirling both of us around once more. “The meaning of life,” she said in a dreamy voice with a faraway look.

“Huh?” was my incredibly articulate response.

Mahya stopped mid-step, her eyes widening in mock horror. She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as if I had offended her ancestors. “You called your books ‘manuals’ and didn’t read the best traveling story ever?”

I squinted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She huffed. “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”

“Oh.” I frowned. “I watched the movie. It was bad.”

She let out a scandalized gasp, then shoved me away. “We’re not friends anymore.”

I stumbled back, my back hitting the wall. In the corner, Al was completely losing it. He wasn’t one to laugh often—usually just a chuckle when something amused him. But when he did lose it, he really lost it.

His whole body shook as he braced his hands on his knees, his face contorted with pure helpless laughter. Howls echoed through the room, his shoulders jerking as he gasped for air between fits.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

It took him another full minute to pull himself together, wiping at his eyes as he straightened with visible effort. “I spent my entire childhood studying in my family’s archive,” he finally managed, voice hoarse from laughing. “Reading through all the accounts, I used to dream about my own journey. What will I see? What will I experience?” He gestured vaguely at the room, his face twisting in barely contained amusement. “But never—not in my wildest or most demented dreams—did I once envision myself in a vault, under a creepy dungeon, with my team dancing around and having a literary discussion in the middle of a heist.”

Mahya snorted before bursting into laughter, doubling over as she clutched her stomach.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the heat creeping up my face. Yeah. He had a point.

Straightening, I cleared my throat and attempted to salvage whatever shred of professionalism we had left. “Yes. Let’s continue. We still didn’t find the weapons.”

Mahya wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, still chuckling. “Right, right. Back to the heist.”

Al let out one final wheeze, shaking his head. “You two are unique individuals.”

I sighed, muttering under my breath as I turned toward the next part of the search. “Says the guy who nearly laughed himself into an early grave.”

There were no more doors left to check in the dungeon or on the ground floor. We scoured the entire castle again, but the armory remained elusive. We confiscated a few guns and a hefty collection of melee weapons from the guards—but that was it.

“Let’s look from above,” Mahya suggested.

We flew to the north-facing tower, scanning the surroundings. Besides the castle, the only other structure was a small guardhouse—not nearly big enough to hide an armory.

Al stood beside me, his brows drawn together in deep thought, his eyes sweeping the castle with a calculating gaze.

“What?” I asked, catching the way his fingers tapped against his leg.

He lifted a hand and gestured around the castle. “Envision the rooms we went through, their size, and compare them to the size of the castle. They don’t match.”

Now that he mentioned it… the spaces we had moved through only accounted for maybe a third of the total structure—not more.

“You’re right,” I said slowly, my mind racing through the layout. “Also, there were no servants' quarters, and the kitchen was deserted.” I took a slow inhale, and a familiar scent reached me. “But I can smell baking.”

Mahya snorted, crossing her arms. “Of course you can.”

A faint glow crept over the horizon, painting the sky in deep blue and purple streaks. Dawn was coming.

“We need to hurry; it’ll be light soon,” I said, glancing toward the eastern sky.

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Mahya pulled a coil of rope from her Storage. “Just a moment.”

She secured the rope to the tower’s stone railing, giving it a firm tug to test the knot. It unfurled smoothly, swaying in the night breeze as it dangled down the castle’s side. With a satisfied nod, she fastened the “king” to the end and let him drop over the wall. Stepping back, she admired her handiwork.

“Now we can continue.”

The north and east sides of the castle remained quiet, with only a few guards sprawled on the grass, still lost in enchanted sleep. In contrast, the south side was a chaotic mess—guards scurried around like headless chickens, some shouting orders, others bumping into each other in their rush. A few were even hauling the sleeping beauties away, their movements frantic.

With no need for discussion, we all turned invisible and methodically put every last one of them to sleep.

Silently, we followed the procession, moving in sync as we trailed the unaware guards. A large door stood wide open on the other side of the castle, its threshold worn from heavy use. This entrance had seen a lot of traffic.

Once the last of the passersby had succumbed to enchanted slumber, we slipped inside to investigate.

The contrast was striking. Unlike the north side, which had been mostly deserted—full of empty rooms, save for the king, the sleeping girls, and the patrolling guards—this area was full of guards and servants.

Some servants looked well-kept—well-fed, dressed in fine clothes, and strutting around like peacocks, their chins lifted with an air of importance. Others, however, were in stark contrast—thin to the point of emaciation, draped in tattered rags that barely covered their bruises. I caught glimpses of whip marks through the holes in their worn clothing.

“I’m not leaving them here,” I sent to the group.

“First we put everybody to sleep, and then we sort out what and who to take,” Mahya said.

“I’ll secure the door,” Al said.

He secured it with a large crossbar, sealing the entrance.

We swept through the palace without wasting time, putting everyone to sleep. The place was massive, and covering every hall and room took longer than expected.

The servants’ quarters varied wildly—most were cramped spaces with nothing but straw on the floor and rags folded neatly beside it, offering little comfort. Others, however, were larger and well-furnished, a clear divide between the privileged and the forgotten.

The guards’ rooms were even nicer, adorned with trinkets, small luxuries, and personal decorations that hinted at lives far more comfortable than those of the lower-ranking servants.

The sun was already high in the sky by the time the last person had succumbed to sleep.

“The first guards we put to sleep on the other side will be waking up soon,” Al warned, his eyes flicking toward the windows where the morning light shone.

“So take care of it,” Mahya said, waving a hand dismissively. “John and I will handle things here until you get back.”

It took nearly the entire day to clear this side of the castle. We did locate the armory, which was mostly empty, and cleared it quickly. The real challenge came from the sheer number of rooms—and the time-consuming task of taking the abused servants.

To speed things up, I opened my house against a wall in two or three spots on each floor, and we carried the unconscious servants inside, making trip after trip. The ones already inside had to be dosed again to keep them asleep.

The worst cases—the prisoners from the dungeons and a few servants barely clinging to consciousness on straw mats—needed more than rest. I hooked them up to IV drips, ensuring they’d make it through the relocation process.

Throughout the day, loud bangs echoed from the main door, followed by muffled shouting. Each time, Al handled it, putting the would-be intruders to sleep. By late afternoon, he made another round through the main wing, dousing the sleeping occupants again to buy us more time.

By sunset, we were finally done. The only things left behind on this side were piles of dirty straw and rags in the servants' rooms, along with mice scurrying through the empty food cellars.

We found another dungeon, but it was empty—no prisoners, no bodies, just cold, lifeless stone.

And, unfortunately, no more underground vaults. A real shame.

But the flip side? We rescued over seventy abused servants.

With the girls and women I’d already taken in from the city, my house was packed with nearly a hundred people, all fast asleep. I had to instruct the core to recreate two of the storage halls I’d previously closed to make space for everyone. Even Al and Mahya pitched in, offering the floors of their lab and workshop to help.

Of course, they still thought I was taking what Mahya called my 'savior instinct' way too far. But aside from some head shakes, a few sighs, and the occasional 'Only you ' muttered with a fond, exasperated expression, they didn’t argue.

When we flew out of the castle, a large crowd had gathered outside, all eyes locked on the dangling body.

Some looked downright happy—smiling, whispering to one another with barely contained glee. Others were agitated, shifting on their feet, their expressions torn between shock and disbelief. But regardless of their emotions, one thing was sure—everyone was staring, the entire crowd buzzing with murmurs, speculation, and barely restrained energy.

Back in Sanctuary, we flew straight to my clinic. The sky had darkened, the last traces of daylight fading into the horizon.

The guards had already shut the outermost gate for the night, its heavy structure sealed tight. The remaining gates were in the process of closing, and guards moved with practiced efficiency as they secured the city for the evening.

I looked at my clinic and scratched my head. This wasn’t going to work. Too small, too cramped, and nowhere near enough space for everyone.

Still invisible, I told the team. “I have another idea,” and flew toward the warehouse district.

The warehouse where I’d delivered the food earlier stood empty. They had distributed everything. Good.

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I became visible inside, casting a soft glow with a light ball before opening my house against a wall. “Help me cover the floor with mattresses,” I said. “If we don’t have enough, use carpets.”

Mahya and Al got to work, spreading out every mattress and soft surface they could find, while I carried the healthier ones out one by one, carefully laying them down.

Once the floor was fully covered, Mahya and Al joined me, moving in sync as we “unloaded” eighty-four people into their temporary shelter.

After removing the last one, we turned invisible again and flew back to the clinic. I cleared space there for the rest of the passengers—the ones in the worst shape.

After finding places for everyone, I focused on the treatment.

“I’ll go inform Lady Alamatai,” Mahya said, already turning toward the door.

I nodded, barely looking up, as I connected another patient to an IV. My hands moved automatically, adjusting the tubing and checking for blockages.

Al stepped up beside me, setting a small stack of vials on the nearby table. “Add this to the liquid; it will give them a boost.”

I glanced at the vials. “What’s that?”

“Health potions that do not drain the body’s reserves.”

That got my attention. “Will it work through intravenous administration?”

“Yes.” His answer was delivered with confidence, without hesitation.

That was good enough for me. I grabbed a vial, broke the seal, and got to work.