"Stupid or not, Alaric, stupidity with a heavy timber battering ram tends to have a very short-term effect on medieval masonry," Zavi said, his boots clicking sharply against the cold flagstones as he closed the distance to the war table. He reached out, his fingers tracing the contour of the inner courtyard wall marked on the parchment map with a dab of red ink. "That postern gate isn't designed to withstand three consecutive companies of mercenaries leaning their entire body weight into a hollowed-out oak log wrapped in iron bands. If you don't send reinforcements down to the threshold right now, we won't be arguing about politics. We'll be scraping your highness off the cobblestones."Prince Alaric’s lips thinned into a hard, white line. He didn't blink. He didn't look away from Zavi’s face, searching for the phantom status bars that used to hover over people's heads like cheap tavern neon. There were no numbers floating in the air. No glowing blue percentages telling him Zavi’s st

"Where do you think I'm going, Serafia?" Zavi didn't slow his stride, his hand dropping instinctively to the hilt of a standard-issue guard spear resting against the stone doorframe. The wood was cold, slick with condensation and the lingering stench of oil smoke drifting up from the lower courtyards. "Someone has to be down there to catch the splinters before they turn into shrapnel.""You're in no condition to hold a gateway, Zavi," she fired back instantly, closing the distance between them with long, silent strides, her boots clicking with lethal intent against the marble. "Your left shoulder hasn't stopped weeping through that tunic since the apothecary's brew. If you take a heavy pike-thrust to that arm today, you won't even have the luxury of bleeding out; Vane's mercenaries will simply use your corpse for target practice.""Then it's a good thing I don't plan on catching any pikes," Zavi muttered, wheeling around to face her, his eyes flashing with a cold, desperate light that

"Together, then," Zavi muttered, his grip tightening on the ash-wood shaft of the guard spear as another deafening thud reverberated through the stone foundations of the keep. The floor beneath their boots trembled, sending a shower of gritty mortar dust down from the vaulted ceiling to settle like gray snow upon their shoulders. "Just try not to trip over my boots when the wood finally gives.""Worry about your own balance, Zavi," Serafia snapped back, her thumb clicking the release catch of her shortsword as she drew the blade with a crisp, lethal hiss that cut sharply through the surrounding chaos. "I have no intention of letting some nameless mercenary from Vane's rabble put a notch in your ribs before I've even finished settling accounts with you.""Your concern is deeply touching," Zavi shot over his shoulder, already breaking into a rapid, low-slung run toward the spiral stone staircase that plunged downward into the smoke-choked haze of the lower bailey. "Save some of that ent

"Watch your left, Hesketh! The archway’s buckling!" Zavi roared, his voice cutting through the deafening cacophony of shattering timber and screaming steel as he hurled his weight against the heavy oak reinforcement beam.Beside him, the captain of the royal guard—his thigh heavily bandaged and soaked through with dark, rapidly spreading crimson—slumped back against the cold stone pillar with a ragged gasp. Sweat carved clean tracks through the soot and grime caked across Hesketh’s weathered face, his chest heaving as he fought off a wave of nausea."It won't hold another charge," Hesketh wheezed, his knuckles whitening around the shaft of his standard-issue spear as he forced himself upright. "Vane’s brought the heavy rams up from the south stable. Look at the masonry—it’s fracturing all the way to the second-tier vaulting!"A massive, bone-rattling CRUMP slammed against the outer bronze-reinforced gates, sending a shockwave rippling through the grand lobby of the inner keep. Fine gr

"The main gate is buckling, the eastern parapet is choked with smoke, and you want to talk about maintenance tunnels?" Prince Alaric slammed his palm down onto the oak war table, the heavy silver candlesticks rattling violently against the wood. His face was pale beneath a mask of soot, his immaculate royal tunic torn at the shoulder where a stray crossbow bolt had grazed him an hour ago. "Vane has three hundred men in the courtyard, and you’re suggesting we crawl through the plumbing like common rats?""If we stay here, Your Highness, we won't even be rats—we’ll be well-done roast duck," Serafia replied, stepping smoothly out of the shadows near the velvet wall hanging. She didn't flinch under Alaric’s furious glare; instead, she crossed her arms, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the hilt of her shortsword. "The western gatehouse will fall within the hour. When it does, Vane’s mercenaries won't care about royal bloodlines or political leverage. They’ll butcher every living so