Gabriel slashed his sword low before the Dwarf could fully turn.

The blade cut through his ankle in a single clean stroke, severing tendon and bone just above the heel.

The Paladin collapsed immediately.

He hit the ground hard. His body rolled away from the woman on instinct, hands going to the ruined ankle. Blood covered his hand, dark and fast.

His other hand reached for his sword, fingers closing around the hilt.

The blade was kicked away before it could clear the sheath.

Steel clattered across the stones and came to rest against the far wall, ten feet away and useless.

The woman scrambled to her feet, torn dress clutched in one hand, the other pressed against the wall behind her for support. Her eyes were wide, locked on the demon-eyed man, then the Paladin, then back. Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps.

The former Paladin didn't look at her. He stepped into the Dwarfs' sightline and stopped.

Close enough for eye contact.

His red eyes visible.

The Paladin's breath came fast and shallow, pain written across his face but not voiced yet. His gaze locked onto those red eyes, confusion shifting into recognition. Not of the man specifically. Of what he was. What the red eyes meant.

Understanding followed immediately after.

He was isolated.

He was outside protection.

He was not leaving.

Gabriel knelt, keeping the blade low and ready. His posture was relaxed, weight settled. The Dwarf's eyes tracked the movement, reading it correctly. This wasn't rage.

"Where is Lucius Tudon?"

The voice was flat. Calm. No cruelty in it. Just a question that required an answer.

The Paladin's jaw tightened. He didn't respond immediately. His hand stayed pressed against the ankle, blood still seeping between his fingers. His breathing was controlled despite the pain, trained discipline keeping the panic at bay.

The woman remained pressed against the wall, frozen, one hand still clutching her torn dress. Her eyes stayed on the demon-eyed man. Trying to understand what was happening. Trying to decide if she should run.

"I don't know," the Paladin said finally. His voice was steady despite the pain, each word measured.

"You're lying."

"I'm not." The Paladin's eyes didn't waver. "I don't know where Lucius Tudon is. That's not information someone like me would have."

The former Paladin studied him. The breathing. The eye contact. The steadiness in his voice. Reading for deception and finding something that might be true. A foreign paladin wouldn't necessarily know the movements of Mazrion's executioner.

A nod acknowledged this.

"Why is a Paladin from the church of Ganut in Adaranthe?"

The Dwarf's expression flickered. Recognition that the question itself was dangerous.

He said nothing.

"Answer."

The Paladin's jaw set, teeth clenched against both pain and something else. Resolve, maybe. Or training. The kind that said some information was worth dying for.

Gabriel shifted his weight slightly. The blade remained low and ready

"You're already dead," he said quietly. "The question is whether you die painfully or not."

The Dwarf's eyes narrowed. His breathing had steadied despite the blood loss. He was measuring time now. How long until someone came. How long until his body was found. Whether silence bought anything at all.

It didn't.

"Contract work," he said finally. The words came reluctantly. "Ganut's church provides soldiers where local forces are insufficient."

"Who sanctioned it?"

The Paladin's mouth stayed closed.

"How long have you been here?"

"Three months."

"How many of you?"

Silence again. This was closer to something that mattered. Numbers meant strategy. Deployment. The kind of information that could undermine whatever arrangement existed between Ganut's church and the local authority.

Gabriel waited. The Paladin was bleeding out slowly. Minutes mattered. He would answer or he wouldn't, but time was deciding for him.

"Four," the Dwarf said at last. "Including me."

"Where are the others?"

Another hesitation. Shorter this time. The pain was breaking through the training now, sweat began dripping on his forehead despite the cool air.

"East barracks. Near the river gate."

The Paladin's breathing had slowed further. His eyes stayed focused, but the sharpness was fading. His gaze stayed fixed on the red eyes above him.

After a moment, one final question came, quiet and deliberate:

"How many others?"

The Paladin understood what he meant immediately.

Not how many paladins. Or soldiers.

How many women.

His expression didn't change.

Gabriel drove his blade through the Dwarf's throat in a single, precise motion, angled down to sever the artery and windpipe in one stroke. His body stiffened. Blood poured too fast to stop.

The Paladin's mouth opened. No sound came out. Only blood.

Gabriel yanked the blade free as the body convulsed.

The woman was still pressed against the wall, torn dress clutched in both hands now. Her eyes were locked on the body, wide and unblinking. Her breathing came faster, verging on panic, but she didn't scream. Didn't run. Just stood there, frozen.

The former Paladin knelt beside the corpse and found the coin pouch at the belt. He unfastened it. The weight was substantial when he lifted it. Church wages, likely. Or payment for services rendered.

He stood and turned to the woman.

She flinched, body pressing harder against the wall as if she could disappear into the stone. Her eyes tracked him, wide and terrified now, calculating whether she could run.

He stopped three paces away. Close enough to hand her the pouch. Far enough not to crowd her.

The pouch was held out.

She stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the pouch. Her hands didn't move from where they clutched her dress.

"Take it."

The voice was quiet, no harder than it had been with the Paladin.

Her hands trembled as she released the fabric and reached forward. She took the pouch slowly, as if expecting it to be pulled away at the last moment. The leather was still warm from the body. She clutched it against her chest.

Their eyes met.

"You didn't see anything."

The woman nodded. Once. Quickly. Her mouth opened as if to speak, then closed. She nodded again.

He stepped aside, clearing the path to the street.

She ran.

She stumbled at first, nearly tripping over the spilled basket, then found her footing and ran. Her footsteps echoed off the alley walls, growing fainter, fading into the city's constant noise until they disappeared entirely.

The former Paladin looked down at the body.

The blood had stopped spreading, soaking into the dirt and pooling in the low spots where the ground wasn't level. The Dwarf's eyes were still open, staring at nothing.

The sigil on his cloak was visible even in the alley's dim light. Hammer and shield. Ganut's mark.

Gabriel turned and walked toward the stairs.

His reflection in a window showed nothing unusual. Just another traveller passing through.

He emerged onto the street and rejoined the flow of bodies moving through the district. No one looked twice. No one noticed the direction he'd come from. The city absorbed him the way it absorbed everything else.

Adaranthe continued.

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