The gates of the City Lord's castle rose in front of them, with heavy iron gates cutting stark lines against the dimming sky. Beyond the stone walls stretched a broad courtyard, where wagons stood half-loaded with furniture. A short, stout woman barked orders at a trembling servant struggling under the weight of a carved wood chair.
"You there! You little shit!" the dwarf woman screeched, her makeup coverd face twisting with fury. "Get that chair into the wagon! We leave tomorrow at dawn the monster horde will be here in two days!"
The servant bent his knees, straining, the chair far too heavy for his thin arms to lift. His face reddened, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Rem leaned closer to Amaia, her red eyes narrowing. "What is that woman doing? She's making them lift things they clearly cannot carry."
Amaia's head turned slightly, her voice even. "My lady, such weight means nothing to me I am a magical construct. But these servants are only dwarves, underfed and overworked. This is cruelty, nothing more they are not capable of lifting that chair."
Rem's frown deepened as she watched the boy stagger.
The short woman finally noticed them. She sneered and walked towards the three newcomers. "Who the hell are you? Are you the Vice Adventurers Guild escorts? You are not expected until tomorrow. I need you ready to escort me out of Darkgloom with the caravan."
Rem straightened up, her tone calm. "If you mean the men who were supposed to escort you, they're dead. I killed them when they tried to assault this beautiful cat girl here beside me." Rem gestured towards Cindy Lou, whose tail moved excitedly at these words.
The woman froze, then puffed up her chest with outrage. "My name is Lady Darla Crane. How dare you walk into my manor and brag about killing my escort! Do you have any idea what one word from me could do to you in the Frostfire Kingdom? I am the City Lord, tasked with this city's safety!"
Rem's gaze hardened, unimpressed. "You call yourself the protector of Darkgloom, yet I see wagons packed up and ready to flee. Tell us the plans true plan behind this. The Vice Guild. The Frostfire Kingdom what are you up to. You're leaving the citizens here to die."
Darla's red lips curled into a mocking smile. "What's it to you, little bitch? You're lucky most of my guards are already gone, or I would have you thrown into irons and rotting in a cell. Yes, we're abandoning this place. So what? It's the King's idea. These people barely pay any taxes, and they drain the kingdom's coffers. I've been reassigned to a far greater city, one that matters. A proper noble title awaits me. This dump has held me back long enough."
Rem's voice dropped to a cold whisper as she stepped closer, her shadow stretching over the dwarf. "Tell me more about these plans of yours. Tell me what the Frostfire Kingdom truly intends to do."
For the first time, Darla faltered. She backed away, her eyes darting between them. "Why are you so eager to know? Do you imagine some alternative scenario? There is no saving this city. That monster horde will raze this city to the ground, and the kingdom will not waste soldiers here defending it."
Rem's expression sharpened to a blade's edge. "The only thing you need to worry about now is your own life."
Darla stumbled back another step, trembling, then shrieked, "Guards! Guards! Intruders are in the manor kill them!"
From the inner halls came the sound of armored boots running. Five men marched into the courtyard, but these were no ragged city guards. Their plate armor glowed in the light, newly forged steel polished to a mirror shine, their swords untouched by rust.
Rem looked them over with disdain. "So this is where the city's taxes went your personal guard. Such fancy armor for your personal guards, while the city rotting in filth." Rem's voice carried cold judgment. "You've stripped the streets of protection, sent away the kingdom's troops, and left your people with nothing but you have increased your own personal defenses. Good to know."
She turned her head slightly toward Amaia, her words sharp and final. "Amaia. Deal with them."
"Yes, my lady," Amaia replied. Her wrist shifted as a sword hilt appeared in her hand, and from it, a massive black Claymore materialized out of thin air.
The guards lowered their visors and charged, five against one. Amaia charged forwards, her black claymore in hand, her heavy steps shaking the stone ground.
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