The lead royal guard's sword lowered an inch, his eyes darting between the frail, bleeding woman and his men.
The name Sangrever carried immense weight, and the threat of the Crown Prince's wrath gave them pause.
The rooftop hung in a tense, breathless standoff.
Then, the ruined doorway erupted with sudden, violent motion.
The Duke burst onto the rooftop like a cornered beast, flanked by a half-dozen of his most brutal, fiercely loyal Wandova guards.
They were blood-drenched, their armor hacked and dented from the horrific fighting on the lower levels, but their blades were out and their eyes were filled with the feral desperation of men who knew they had nothing left to lose.
"Kill them all!" Ilkar roared, his voice a ragged, savage snarl.
Before the royal guards could even pivot to face the new threat, Ilkar and his men fell upon them from behind.
The tight space of the roof became a slaughterhouse.
