*** Cold Iron District - Third Person POV
"Keep them?"
Evelina looked behind her at the hundreds of freed slaves who had turned a small part of the district into what was effectively a fortress.
What had once been a maze of leaning shacks and rotting tenements now bristled with improvised defenses.
Broken wagon wheels, scrap metal, and shattered furniture formed barricades that turned the alleys into death traps, while side streets funneled into kill zones. From the roofs, archers, mages, and scouts in mismatched armor kept watch.
Laundry lines still crisscrossed the air, now strung with bells and glass that turned clutter into a DIY alarm system. Rusted slave chains had been repurposed into tripwires and anchors for the barricades.
Makeshift watchtowers rose above the roofs, manned by elves, dwarves, and beastfolk. The stink of smoke, sweat, rust, and old blood remained—but beneath it lay something new.
Order.
