The captain's ultimatum was like a spark in an explosive situation.

Eward saw the flat of the consecrated blade against Sarah's throat. He saw the terrified whimper she tried to suppress. The last, tenuous threads of his self-control began to snap. Strategy. Tactics. The impossible odds. All of it dissolved. He was about to move. To launch himself into a suicidal, one-man charge.

When a new, unexpected sound cut through the chaos.

Not the roar of a monster. Not the clang of steel. The sharp, clear, and utterly commanding sound of a royal war horn.

Every head, monster and man, turned towards the source.

From the west, a disciplined, organized force was advancing. Not the black-robed agents of the Inquisition. Not the beleaguered Royal Guards. These were knights in gleaming, silver-and-blue plate armor.

The elite crest of the Royal Family was emblazoned on their shields. They moved not with frantic energy. But with the calm, inexorable confidence of a unit that owned the battlefield.

They were the Royal Guard. The Princess's personal retinue.

At their head, astride a magnificent, white warhorse, was Princess Seraphina. She was in her full, immaculate battle regalia. Her mithril armor gleamed.

She held her sword, its blade glowing with a gentle holy light. Beside her, a dozen elite A-Rank knights, her personal guard stood in formation, forming a flawless, unbreakable wedge.

They didn't charge into the chaotic melee. They advanced with a purpose. Their formation was a solid wall of steel and holy magic. It systematically, brutally, and efficiently carved a path through the dungeon beasts. Clearing a secure perimeter around the ruined storefront.

The battle itself was a work of art. A stark, brutal contrast to the chaotic, desperate fighting of the other factions. Seraphina was a master tactician. Her commands were sharp, precise, and unerring.

"Formation Delta! Pincer movement on the Hydra!" she would call out. Her knights would move as one. Their shields locked together. Their blessed lances found the creature's weak points with surgical precision.

A hulking, ape-like beast charged their line. Seraphina herself met the charge. She didn't try to match its brute force. She slid from her horse with a dancer-like grace.

Her holy-infused sword was fast. She executed a series of blindingly fast, precise thrusts. Severing the creature's major tendons. The huge beast strength gone it collapsed into a weak, twitching heap.

It was a show of controlled, unstoppable power. In under a minute, Seraphina and her Royal Guard had taken control of the whole block.

The dungeon monsters were either dead or had retreated from this new, terrifyingly threat.

The Inquisition knights, who had been using the chaos as cover, now found themselves in the stark, silent aftermath. Their despicable little trap was suddenly exposed on a cleared, well-lit stage.

The Inquisition captain kept his sword at Sarah's throat, staring at the approaching princess. His face twisted with shock and anger. "Your Highness!" he gasped.

His voice was a mixture of deference and outrage. "What is the meaning of this? This is an official Inquisition operation! We are acting on the highest authority!"

Seraphina dismounted. Her boots made a soft sound on the cobblestones. She walked towards him. Her expression was cold. Her elite knights formed a silent, menacing wall behind her.

"Your 'operation,' Captain," she said, her voice dripping with a dangerous calm, "involves holding a civilian, a citizen of this kingdom, hostage. That is not justice. That is terrorism. And it is happening in a district that is, by royal decree, now under my personal, martial protection."

The captain's jaw worked. No sound came out. He had been outmaneuvered. His authority completely negated by a higher, more absolute power. He was a captain of a holy order. But she was a princess of the realm. And on this patch of ground, her word was law.

A tense, silent standoff. The black-clad Inquisition knights and the silver-and-blue Royal Guard stared each other down. Their hands were on their swords. The air crackled with a barely suppressed hostility.

And in that moment of hesitation, that perfect, unexpected stalemate, Edward saw his chance.

He whispered a single word to his own small team. "Now."

He moved. A blur of motion. A shadow detaching itself from other shadows. He sprinted across the now-cleared section of the square. His movements were utterly silent. The Royal Guard, seeing him, tensed. But a subtle, almost imperceptible hand gesture from Seraphina stopped them.

Edward reached the ruined storefront. He didn't bother with the door. He went through the shattered window. A silent, fluid vault. It put him directly behind the stunned and distracted Inquisition squad.

Before the captain could even react, before he could turn the blade on Sarah, Edward was on him. He didn't use his dagger. He didn't go for a kill. His movements were a blur of pure, non-lethal efficiency.

A sharp, brutal chop to the captain's wrist. Forcing him to drop his sword with a clatter. A spin. A perfectly placed elbow strike to the back of the man's head. The captain's eyes rolled back. He collapsed in an unconscious heap.

The other Inquisition knights turned to face this new threat. They found themselves staring into the furious, golden eyes of a snarling beast-girl. And the cold, amused gaze of a red-haired assassin. Who had used the same moment of distraction to flank them. The fight was over before it had even begun.

Edward grabbed Sarah. His hand was firm but gentle on her arm. "Are you alright?"

She just nodded. Her eyes were wide. Her body trembled. Her gaze was locked on him.

He pulled her towards the window. Towards escape. He paused for a single, fleeting moment. He looked at Seraphina. Still standing in the center of the street. A silent, regal sentinel. Their eyes met. A silent, complex exchange between the pariah and the princess.

She was not his ally. She had not done this for him. He knew that. She was a woman of principle. A creature of order and duty. Her duty was to protect the innocent. She had seen an injustice. She had acted. Their goals, in this one, specific instance, had simply aligned.

"Thank you, Princess," he said. His voice was a low, quiet murmur.

He didn't wait for a reply. He pulled Sarah with him. And with Fenris and Selene at his back, he vanished into the shadows of the alleyways. A ghost returning to his hidden, subterranean world.

Seraphina watched him go. Her expression was unreadable. She did not try to stop him. She had given her unspoken word.

The new Inquisition captain, the second-in-command, glared at her. His face was a mask of pure, impotent fury.

"You have just abetted a fugitive, Your Highness," he snarled. His voice was a venomous whisper. "You have interfered with a holy mandate. This will be reported. The Grand Inquisitor will hear of this treason."

Seraphina finally turned her cold, imperious gaze on him. A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.

"Report whatever you wish, Captain," she replied. Her voice was as sharp and cold as the edge of her blade. "And when you do, be sure to include the part where you and your men hid behind a terrified civilian girl while my knights were the ones actually fighting the monsters. I am quite certain the Grand Inquisitor will find that detail… illuminating."

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