Selene’s POV continues.
The camp had been re-erected.
Tents stood once more in orderly rows.
Mercenaries and adventurers had beds.
The wounded were fully healed.
No lingering casualties.
Ivaline had been left at the inn with Seraphine.
To rest.
To recover.
To take care of each other.
Only after ensuring everything was stable did Selene depart.
With her:
- Four Bastion
- Grim Vulture
- And Garrick
“…I’m an extra again!?”
No one answered him.
Except for Seraphine, Ivaline, and Rivel — every key figure had been summoned.
They were heading toward Baron Edrien Valmor’s manor.
Along the way—
They saw traces of battle.
Broken cobblestones.
Arrow shafts embedded in walls.
Scorch marks.
Blood.
The attack had been serious.
The outer guards were injured but alive.
The Baron himself was safe.
Protected by two Gold-rank parties Selene had dispatched earlier:
[Meteor Fall]
[Dragon Piercer]
And the decision had proven correct.
More than thirty assassins lay across the grounds.
Some were captured.
Bound.
Silent.
The rest breath no more.
“Guild Master!”
“Good work,” Selene said calmly. “You protected him well.”
Four figures approached first.
[Meteor Fall].
Three towering tanks and one healer.
They were larger than Bram.
Armor layered thick from shoulder to boot.
Unbreakable.
Garron — party leader.
Thick beard braided neatly.
A tower shield as tall as a man.
A mace capable of shattering bone through plate armor.
Borik — halberd master.
Expert at breaking formations, hooking shields, sweeping legs.
Thorne — monstrous two-handed battle axe.
If Garron could not hold them, if Borik could not unbalance them—
Thorne simply crushed them.
And lastly—
Sister Elysha.
Cleric.
Healer of broken limbs and shattered bones.
Curer of poison and curse.
Long-range divine restoration.
The strongest defensive formation in the Barony.
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No force had ever broken their line.
Sending them had been the correct choice.
“Where is [Dragon Piercer]?” Selene asked.
“Sir Caelum is chasing fleeing assassins,” Garron replied. “They should return shortly.”
A shrill horse cry echoed.
A fully armored knight galloped back, dragging bound men behind his warhorse.
Three women followed.
“Apologies,” Sir Caelum Ardent said smoothly. “They were more stubborn than expected.”
The leader of [Dragon Piercer].
Former royal knight turned adventurer.
His armor shine in gleaming silver.
His warhorse, Valeriant, gleamed like polished jewel.
When he appeared, people felt safe.
“There are three more pinned along the road,” he added. “Send a healer and they may survive.”
Behind him:
Maris, the Amazon archer in green attire.
Tall. Muscular. Dark bronze skin. Braided black hair.
Her bow resembled a portable ballista.
Her arrows were short spears.
When Sir Caelum said someone was “pinned,” he meant skewered to stone.
“We ensured no one escaped,” Maris added.
Two more approached.
Sylra, scout in striking blue.
Smallest of the group.
Short ash-gray hair. Silver eyes sharp as knives.
Lysette, flame mage in red robe.
Slender. Copper-red hair flowing down her back.
Bright red robes faintly glowing with inner heat.
A perfectly balanced strike party.
Reliable. Flashy. Precise.
“But why target the Baron during wartime?” Lysette asked. “That’s foolish.”
Selene’s eyes swept the battlefield.
Thirty assassins.
That was not foolish.
That was coordinated.
“Baron,” she said evenly, “we need your private chamber. Immediately.”
Present:
- Baron Edrien Valmor
- Selene
- [Dragon Piercer]
- [Meteor Fall]
- [Four Bastion] (-1 +1)
- [Grim Vulture]
Selene wasted no time.
She revealed everything.
The stolen documents.
The reinforcement routes.
The supply lines.
The hired assassins.
The demon infiltration.
Silence followed.
Shock.
The Baron’s face hardened.
Grim Vulture clenched their fists.
They had unknowingly become pawns in a greater invasion.
Utter disgrace.
“That damned demon used us!” Vulture snarled.
“Calm yourself,” Selene said. “I have a mission for you.”
“…Give the order.”
“You will divide your men and inform every Assassin Guild branch in the Barony. Explain everything. It may be too late — but we will save as many lives as possible.”
“…Understood.”
They vanished without further words.
Next.
“[Dragon Piercer]. I want you to enter the western camp as visibly as possible. Raise morale. Push for advancing ahead of schedule.”
Sir Caelum nodded. “Since the timing is compromised, we move before they expect it.”
“Correct.”
“It will be done.”
They departed.
“[Meteor Fall]. You will escort the supply caravan at dawn. Protect it at all costs. Recruit additional parties if necessary.”
Garron slammed his shield. “Aye! No blade shall touch it!”
They marched out immediately.
Selene turned.
“Four Bastion… minus and plus one.”
Four pairs of eyes slowly turned toward Garrick.
He smiled brightly.
Why do I feel attacked?
“Track the demons through the secret passages. Do not engage unless necessary. We need information. Are they retreating? Advancing? Splitting forces?”
“It will be done,” Aldric replied.
They left.
The room grew quiet.
Only the Baron.
Selene.
And one butler remained.
The Baron - Edrien Valmor
Tea was served.
Both downed it in one swallow.
“My apologies,” Selene said, bowing deeply. “I requested leniency for him. That led to this.”
“Leave it,” the Baron replied. “We have larger concerns.”
If their schedule was leaked—
Adventurers traveling to Lethrain could be intercepted.
Even if they gathered forces—
They could be ambushed en route.
If they advanced early without enough strength—
They would die like moths to flame.
“…I will send my personal knights with you,” the Baron added.
“Much appreciated. I will return them to you.”
“If you are returning alive,” he corrected.
“Don’t jinx me like that,” Selene sighed.
“If Lethrain falls, I will follow you to the afterlife and demand a full apology.”
Selene smirked. “Chased by a dandy middle-aged man? Not entirely unpleasant.”
“Mind you,” the Baron sniffed, “I still hope to hold a lovely daughter one day.”
“You’re past forty. Adoption might be your only hope.”
He paused.
“Oh. [Silver Ward] already has three foster fathers. Perhaps I should become the fourth.”
“…Baron.”
“I shall consider it.”
“Wait, that was a joke!”
Silence.
“…You’re not serious, right?”
“…”
“Fine! I’ll date you! Just stop thinking about it!”
“Deal,” he said calmly. “You are officially dating me.”
“…What?!”
“Stay the night. I’ll have you dressed properly tomorrow.”
“That joke went too far, old man!”
He only chuckled and left the chamber.
Selene remained—
Face burning.
Baroness Selene?
Absolutely not.
…Right?
Orders were in motion.
Steel was moving.
Plans were shifting.
The board was rearranging itself.
And in a quiet inn room—
One girl lay in bed.
Curled against her wife’s warmth.
Breathing in the faint scent of flowers.
Seeking comfort.
Seeking rest.
For now—
War could wait until morning.