—EXTREME MEASURES—4

The nobles were incredulous and perplexed, equally annoyed, by sullied honor or personal pride, as they began talks with the King in the midst of his retreat.

"My King cannot..." Cri tried to appeal to the young king, when another voice interrupted him.

—Warriors, do you so desire to conspire with the King? —Alfonzo made the call mockingly and gained the attention of Lucius, who ignored him instantly upon understanding that possibility.

—Well, sc… —They barely noticed the slave asking the question, inflaming them, but quickly interrupted.

"If you want to desert, I'll try you tomorrow." Lucius stepped ahead of everyone.

"If you still value your lives, get to work; your bodies won't move on their own." A slave closer to the entrance delivered the other part of the threat, as they had practiced for a long time.

"He won't even give us a measly escort." Fearing he had misheard, Seb stopped to ask without looking at him, but very aware that the nobles beside him were directing their anger from that look and possibly restraining themselves from attacking him.

"Perhaps they deserve it." He didn't back down, and hid his smile as he saw one of them turn to face him.

"Enough!" I strode angrily to his side, gun drawn. "I challenge you to a duel; you've been disrespectful from the moment you arrived, and I'm not willing to tolerate it any longer."

"The day you find my master, you can challenge him." As grateful as ever, he used that excuse to turn the blade away from the oily meat, using it as an improvised skewer, while watching the pink liquid drip from the pearl into the meat. "Whoever you are."

"What do you mean, slave?" I looked confused before turning my furious gaze on Lucius and continued, "Isn't he your slave?" I didn't remember him from the countless reports, so there was only one other possibility.

—We are looking for him, we don't know who he is; I have many complaints to give thanks to Alfonso and almost as many congratulations.

"Then I challenge you, Praetor." He moved the blade toward the praetor, aware that, if he had custody, he could have control of the slave, according to the laws.

"Is this your will, King?" The situation was no longer to his liking, seeing Alfonso's words come true and the proof of the Praetor Assassins' suspicions. "You know you have to answer for them." As protector, above all else, he had to stand firm in his position and defend them.

"I agree that he hasn't shown us an ounce of respect, but that's not my will." He didn't think much as he continued on his way. "Whatever happens is none of our business."

The nobles lost all hope of help, but he, still enraged in front of the warriors and the praetorian, did not give up until he got a satisfactory answer.

"Do you know what's at stake, young man?" He lifted the pommel from the ground, his head shaking slightly before colliding with the sword. "The authority of your house is at stake." He signaled the slave to give the starting signal for the combat.

"I can't live with the humiliation and the venom they've spewed since they arrived." The furious glare didn't waver in the slightest, though she did feel disgust at seeing the head so close to her arm.

"Troops, pay attention! The coward is demanding a duel in which he clearly has the advantage!" The shout gave everyone, including the nobleman, time to reflect. "Does that seem fair to you?" He stopped again. This time I expected more than words, but nothing came. "What's wrong, Artio?"

He shook his head, asking her to stop the provocation, hoping that everything would be resolved with just a simple duel and nothing more than that, very aware that Lucios would win, regardless of that factor.

—NO. —Everyone shouted, some confused, more so among the archers, but they all gave the same answer, some waiting for a response.

"Is it cowardice to protect my honor?" I hope the praetor had the slave under control before realizing he should have defended him himself, instead of making excuses. "What do you know about honor?" A trace of amusement crept in as he continued. "Slave."

"Nothing, and I'm not interested in your offer of teachings; I like my life just the way it is." He puffed out his chest with exaggerated pride and a cheerfully boastful expression. "But let's make this duel fair." Pleased that his orders had been followed to the letter, he climbed onto the head of the giant salamander.

The giant salamander was the size of a house, plain and not much different from any within the walls, but large enough to look like a fearsome opponent barely disfigured by the attached and pierced pieces of flesh.

"You'll hunt two of these, then you'll have hunted as much as the praetor and been as tired as all of us." Each word carried a pride that everyone felt was undeserved, since they hadn't seen him fight at any point.

"If you're a coward, be just," shouted a voice again from the highest tower.

"Does the Cri house have no honor?" another archer asked the one next to him on the walls.

"I saw how he confronted them." The most irate of the group, finally understanding the insult, hastened his support to the side he believed was right. "Don't be a coward."

To everyone's surprise, it was the archers who were shouting much louder than the people around them, moving bodies or arriving in time to help with the larger groups, sorting or untangling the hugs or attempts at protection of those who were half dead.

The guards rushed to help those who were carrying two or three people, varying in size and exceeding them by two or three heads, while taking the opportunity to calm the tempers against them by quickly obeying orders, whether from other guards or slaves who seemed to be in charge to a lesser extent.

"So be it." He removed the meat from his sword with a swift movement and sheathed it; he began walking towards the forest, determined to gain control over the slave.

“Proud fool.” —Lucius devoted his time to continuing the work.

All the few present agreed with the praetor's thinking, although not the part about pride, since they considered that to be part of being a nobleman.

While the archers burned with calm anger, knowing who to blame for all the problems that had occurred up to that point, they limited their actions to the orders of the praetor, finding in him an authority figure worthy of respect and, from what they saw in the battle, an exceptional fighter.

The groups healing people increased; not quite understanding why they were categorized, but still heeding the orders of their new praetor, the idea of disobeying was as repugnant as it was tiring to the minds of the less determined.

Not many noticed the rain returning lightly, somewhat dismayed by how abundant the smaller creatures were, especially giant mice and earthwolves. The numbers were noted on the tablet, dimly illuminated by the torch beside it; he proceeded to join the new Praetorian who was assisting in the movement of the last salamander.

A brief rest was taken while the camp was set up and official positions were reported within the walls and an attempt was made to restore order; while they were away, everything was put in order outside.

“Sir, we’ve classified the reptiles and those with separate armor.” He handed over the list, diligently and with a touch of excessive calm. “Many of the enemies present turned out to be humanoids, mainly goblins and a warg.” He indicated almost at the far end of the wall, watching them take him inside for internal trade. “A couple of giant salamanders, including this one, and many unclassified reptiles.” Alfonso limited his words to the bare essentials, avoiding the mockery he’d made earlier. “Especially these giants.” He gave the headless man a light kick before remembering his most important function. “Perhaps they’ll give us an additional reward?”

"Why?" Lucius finished the last of his water and stood up, ready to continue listening to the report properly.

"For helping to expand the catalog." He shrugged, ignoring the question in his mind and returning to the important matter. "Regarding our troops, many are already operational again, and I must say it's nice, with our medical reserves so low."

—0—West Wall Barracks—0—

The door opened, revealing a man sweeping around, while trying not to look surprised as someone walked in.

"Is this really our headquarters?" The lack of torches didn't give him a good impression.

"I imagined it bigger too." He lit the second torch and went deeper into the place. "Perhaps there aren't as many attacks as the other tribes and kingdoms suggested."

"Absolutely not, that would be a disgrace to the praetor." For a moment he considered that idea possible.

"Never mind, let's explore." Tarde noticed the approaching footsteps and pointed at the multicolored sword. "Who's there?"

"Greetings, I'm the one in charge of cleaning." He clarified, impassive; so many hostile receptions throughout his life had made him get used to the idea.

"I see, excuse my rudeness." He sheathed his torch easily, noticing the man's hands, who was slightly older than him.

"I'm used to it; this way, please, I'll guide you around." He turned around, already tired from that night and hoping to be able to sleep soon, after the guide.

"I'm following him, but my partner will keep watch." He nodded, hoping the message was understood.

—As you wish. —I continued as I reached the end of the hallway.

"This place isn't as large as in other kingdoms." For a moment, I imagine the corridor stretching farther into an endless darkness, when I spot the light of some torches around the first turn. "Do you know why?"

"Resources," he replied curtly, his voice somewhat controlled by exhaustion.

—Could you elaborate on that explanation? —I don't expect such a direct answer, much less such a quick one, but I'm basing it on experience.

—The attacks are very frequent; at first there were many, and from the center to the outskirts, it was difficult for almost all the praetors, so a consensus was reached a long time ago. There are two headquarters, not as large, but equally effective; the forces are divided and thus respond better to threats from within or without.

—Where did he get this information? —He saw in that cleaning man someone of great wisdom and interpreted the present with experience, or a danger within.

"Cleaning supervisor," he said, as if those few words explained everything, and again he remembered a new power growing stronger, so he elaborated. "Sometimes I'd spill some documents that were supposed to be burned; I'd read a bit of what seemed less important while I tidied them up." Finally, he reached the brightest room and placed the torch back in its socket. "That's how I learned."

"I highly doubt that a consensus like that would be a worthless document, good for burning." For a moment I imagine a spy or a traitor and I reach for my weapon, trying to draw it silently.

"That was the idea, not the agreement." I turn my head to the right. "This is the kitchen." I point to the door with the circle and cutlery drawn on it. "Over here is the food storage." I continue walking, aware that I must continue my explanation. "At the beginning of the document, it said something about building four barracks, but the resources were too many, from what I overheard during the food exchange, and it was decided to expand the only two barracks that were built; at the end of that document, there was something about connecting the barracks to the walls."

"Tremendously dangerous; if the walls were taken by the enemy, those resting there would be dead in no time." The idea seemed stupid even to him.

—I couldn't tell you, young man, I'm only telling you what I heard and saw, but since the walls were always being repaired, I don't think the beasts would spend time walking on them.

—Th-that makes sense. —To his dismay, his vast experience dealing with deserters and rogue or hired mercenary groups wouldn't be very useful there.

"This is the main dining room, and here's the break room for you, young man." He opened the door, aware that it should be of interest to the young man.

—Just as bare as I had anticipated. —A large, empty room, just as I had imagined, not a trace of any beds that could be used or boxes of any kind.

—Follow me, please, we'll see the latest.

"Yes." He closed the door, aware that the other barracks might be the same type. "This double corridor is common for barracks here."

"Isn't it normal for everyone?" A flash of curiosity drowned the sleep that was almost making him nod off.

—In Lasha it wasn't like that, it was more like a floor for each thing, like the king's castle, but smaller.

"Imagine if it were like this in all the kingdoms; I suppose Runa is special, with so many attacks." A trace of pride lingered in the dream, so fleetingly that he probably wouldn't even remember it upon waking.

"I can imagine, but I haven't seen anything we can't handle so far." He touched his shoulder.

The fabrics slashed by a claw should have had a bandaged wound inside, but the brilliance of the one called Min had banished the pain and trouble of that wound. If he had repaired the garments, he would have truly been grateful, but he would not have forgiven him for skipping the battle, no matter how much he earned that forgiveness.

"It's good to know you're in good spirits, young man; come on, we're almost at the last rooms." He reached the last doors, as sleep overtook him again.

—These doors are more frequently used.

"This is the war room and this is the weapons store." I gesture to the latter and continue to the end of the turning corridor, picking up the last torch. "That's all there is inside; now I'll guide you to the exit so you can summon your comrades."

—Thank you for this brief visit and I hope we can count on your guidance in the future.

—I live next door; anything that needs explaining, I can more or less deal with it.

—Better times are coming, my friend, rest; by tomorrow we will be very well established.

"Thank you, with your permission." Reaching the entrance, he saw the young man standing guard. "With your permission, I'll take my leave."

—See you. He accepted the torch and let her pass.

A quick chat about the pointlessness of it all, orders to wait, and a game of rock, paper, scissors, and the guide left to warn the praetor and the rest of the white guard.

Time passed without incident; the newly found barracks were quickly filled. Entire lines moved boxes and luggage, like ants rushing to their anthill. The few wounded were the priority of the deacons in the tents outside the walls, while the orators made their way from the cathedral to the wall, where they would help treat the few wounded or offer blessings to calm the recent fighting, as they usually did with every defender who arrived. Many others would be there simply to recite Alba's verses and try to soothe anxieties.

Few were responsible for funeral rites and burials, as that third of the kingdom dedicated to burials still had empty spaces where the less fortunate could rest without difficulty. The count of the dead was recorded and taken to the palace to deliver this information, in addition to the stipulations for a fair duel, all bearing the praetor's seal.

—That's all, squire. —I didn't know her name, but out of respect I feign ignorance—. The delivery of the letter to the King has been confirmed.

—I understand, with your permission. —She headed for the exit, somewhat frightened by being out at night in such an important place, but then she remembered her new position.

Already at the entrance, she was surprised to see the slave on the side, worried that they would send him to watch over her, she asked, before even leaving the gates.

"Did the praetor send you?" I notice the two guards' attention and ignore them. "If it was just a message, they could have entrusted me with that, right?"

"This is a different matter, one in which I require your help." Alfonso waved casually.

"My help?" She sensed trouble and thought about refusing, but again her instinct for hierarchy made her give in. "With what?"

—The letter needs to be taken to Cri's house, and because of my status, I'm afraid they won't let me in, so I request your presence to ensure the message is delivered.

"Is this your mission or mine?" Not wanting to go back to the lion's den, I looked for the first excuse I could come up with.

—Mine, of course. —With the information provided and certain that she would refuse, he began to walk.

—Then I refuse, I prefer to rest. —As I was leaving, I barely noticed that the gates had been opened and I headed towards the barracks.

—As you wish, goodbye.

—0—Cri House—0—

The guards had prepared everything for the final lockdown when they saw someone arrive and went on guard, thinking it might be the head of the house, but when they saw a slave arrive, they relaxed a little.

—Greetings guards, I come to deliver a letter from the Praetorian and his master.

—From the head of the family?

"Yes," he said, giving a slight bow as he pulled out the letter. "It's the agreement for the confrontation." He held it out as if it were a valuable item he wanted to get rid of quickly. "They asked me to be present for the reading of the contents, so if you would do me the favor."

"The noble lady will be here shortly, please wait." He gave the signal and his brother ran to inform her.

"Couldn't we finish this here, with you reading it?" He held out the letter again, as if to hand it over, when he saw a group of slaves walk by.

"Give them passage," I snapped abruptly.

"Sorry." She stifled a laugh, watching such an important piece fall so quickly.

—And a slave, I don't know where you come from, but I can't read. —He shook his head out of habit.

"If I read it, then I can leave and give it to you." He turned away, hoping he wouldn't be there when the chaos broke out.

"Fine." He agreed, just thinking about putting an end to an awkward conversation.