Kili lifted his eyes to meet his godmother's. The youngest felt comforted by her presence, and he leaned his face to her hand in appreciation of her so faithfully helping him. "Medicine?" In a town this broken, Kili doubted very much that anything worthwhile could have been found to heal him, but he had to cling to that hope. "Alright...I will," he managed a tired promise, nearly ready to fall asleep. Unfortunately, sleep never came. As soon as Saeril left, Thorin and the others put their plan into action.

Later, the company found themselves at the town armory. The building was no more than a shack, and the top window was open. Kili felt badly to have broken his promise so soon, but they'd needed his help. Together, the dwarves used one another to reach the top. Once inside, they were met with a wide array of weaponry. 

"What about Saeril? How will she know where to find us?" Kili stayed put as Thorin handed him a sword followed by an axe. The weapons felt about ten times heavier than they should have, and Kili had to grit his teeth to prevent crying out.

"She will know." Thorin paused only briefly, his eyes on his youngest nephew. The lighting was dim, but Kili looked paler than ever before. "Kili...are you alright?"

Kili forced himself to stand taller. "I can manage. Let's just get out of here." Now with a full armload of weaponry, he moved towards the stairway. On the fourth step, his leg gave out. With a terrible crash, Kili fell down, the weapons spilling in every direction. The sound was more than enough to alert the nearby guards.
As Kili struggled to get back up, someone grabbed his shoulder roughly and held a dagger to his throat. At the same time, three others held swords and spears at the rest of the company. They had been caught red handed.

"Bring them to The Master." The guard forced Kili up, and Kili hissed a breath at the pain the action brought. With a rough shove, he was forced to follow the others outside and into the city. 
"This is all my fault," Kili started to blame himself, but Thorin shook his head and motioned him to quiet.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The Master of Laketown left the comforts of home in order to meet with their captives. One of the guards started to fill him in, but Thorin stepped forward.
“We are the dwarves of Erebor...and we have come to reclaim our homeland." Despite their difference in height,  Thorin held his head up high. "I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake! This was the center of all trade in the North. I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the halls of Erebor!”