The long corridors of the palace of Azmuth felt as if they stretched toward an unreachable horizon. The military officials and soldiers marched with a rhythmic clatter, their presence a buffer between Cassia and the cold stone walls.
At a sharp turn, a nobleman serving the King intercepted the group. He was an advisor, draped in silks that hissed against the floor. He cast a curious, prying look at the silent woman in the tactical bodysuit.
"Who is this serious-looking lady?" he inquired, his voice dripping with the effortless condescension of the court. One of the army officers straightened his posture. "This is a gold-rank adventurer, my lord."
The advisor's eyes widened, a flicker of genuine awe crossing his face before he smoothed it back into a mask of polite interest. He joined the procession, his chatter becoming a relentless stream of small talk and prying questions.
Cassia heard none of it. Her mind was a fortress of cold, simmering rage. The very walls of this palace felt like a personal affront, as if the stones themselves had wronged her in a past life.
Every step through the opulence made her face contort into a bitter expression, one she fought to bury beneath a veneer of stoicism. The advisor's irritation began to fester in the silence; he was a man used to being heard, and Cassia's refusal to acknowledge his existence was a slight he would not soon forget.
They arrived at a set of grand, ornate doors. As the guards heaved them open, Cassia snapped back to the present. She stepped into the Banquet Hall and was immediately met by a wall of raw, invisible force.
The room was a pressure cooker of divine and martial intent. Gold-rank adventurers were scattered throughout the hall, each releasing a unique, suffocating aura. The silver-ranks and castle guards were visibly struggling, their faces pale and slick with sweat as they trembled under the collective weight of the elite.
Notable figures stood like pillars amidst the storm: the Army General, the Captain of the Knights, the Court Mage, and the Saintess. Each was a beast in their own right, radiating a power that commanded the air.
But they were all eclipsed by a single source of gravity across the room. A lone figure sat in the center of the hall, radiating a silent pressure so absolute it could have crushed the intent of everyone else present if he truly wished it.
Dexxos. The God-Hammer. The kingdom's only platinum-rank adventurer. He was the pinnacle of mortal capability, a height most in this room would die before ever reaching.
Cassia was unmoved. She ignored the prying gazes and the crushing auras, striding through the hall to settle in a dimly lit corner. From the shadows, she began her mental mapping anew.
She studied the officials, the nobles, the servants, and Dexxos himself, her eyes recording every detail with predatory intent. Suddenly, the doors at the far end opened to reveal the King and the Crowned Prince, both draped in the most majestic luxury Azmuth could provide.
The King took a goblet of deep red wine from a silver tray and hoisted it high into the air. "A toast to everyone present in this room!" his voice boomed, drowning out the hum of the crowd. "May Azmuth remain blessed and glorious! VIVA!"
The response was a thunderous, unified roar that shook the very foundation of the hall.
"VIVA!"
Cassia did not offer a single word to the buzzing crowd. Instead, she fixed her sight on one particular person: Duchess Marxia, of one of the three great houses of nobility in Azmuth. Her gaze was a honed blade, so sharp it could have drawn blood across the distance, but for a fleeting second, her guard faltered.
A raw, jagged slip of emotion bled through her stoic mask.
Across the hall, from the far reaches of his own private corner, Dexxos caught it. The platinum-ranker's senses were too sharp to miss such a spike of intent. Cassia realized her error instantly, sensing the unwanted attention of the most dangerous man in the room, and she severed her intent with clinical precision.
Dexxos's eyes narrowed, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the dark-clad woman retract into herself. "Hmmph... Interesting."
The official program began with the King delivering a series of tedious, long-winded speeches. The crowd feigned a collective, dutiful interest, nodding and applauding at the correct intervals to avoid souring the royal mood. Once the formalities were buried, the feast erupted in earnest.
The Banquet Hall became a sea of moving bodies and clashing ambitions. Kingdom officials cornered gold-ranks, silver-ranks sought higher connections, and soldiers remained like statues at the periphery. Sleazy noblemen prowled the room, attempting to lure adventurers into private contracts for their estates, while women were pestered by men whose wealth far outstripped their charm.
Through it all, Cassia remained a ghost in her corner, her malachite eyes never straying from the Duchess's movements. She was a silent predator among preening peacocks, waiting for the one piece of information that mattered.
After a time, the General stepped forward, his goblet ringing out as he clinked it with a silver spoon to seize the room's attention. The chatter died down, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence.
"Once again, I would like to thank every adventurer here who answered our call," he began, his voice carrying the weight of the crown. "As you all know, a threat looms over our kingdom. Our patron god of war, Ares, has revealed through a divine message that demons have managed to sneak into mortal lands. They are suspected of establishing a stronghold in No Man's Land even as we speak."
"Each of you who answered the call shows great promise; you will be the ones who turn the tide of this battle. As you are aware, we have already lost many to these foul creatures. Several silver and gold-ranked warriors, including the renowned Dorten the White Fang and Lady Elluriel the Golden Mage, are feared lost."
"Our brave soldiers have suffered as well, with a captain and two commanding officers among those presumed fallen. We currently lack an exact count of the enemy's strength. Therefore, we are dispatching a scouting party to determine their numbers, their ranks, and how they managed to bypass several kingdoms to reach No Man's Land undetected."
"This party will consist of six silver-rankers—two rangers, a mage, a cleric, a warrior, and a vanguard—led by one gold-rank adventurer. They will be supported by five footmen. Once the necessary intelligence is gathered, the first strike begins. May the God of War bless you, brave warriors of Azmuth."