Rubedo leaned back against his obsidian throne and watched the secondary monitor. A cluster of faint thermal signatures crept through the ruined streets of the capital, moving steadily toward the eastern courtyard of the newly established base.
The system readouts identified them as surviving Aethelgard knights.
He did not bother warning his commanders. A dozen exhausted stragglers armed with rusted broadswords barely registered as a minor nuisance.
The approaching squad provided a perfect opportunity to test the structural integrity of the recent renovations without risking any actual assets. Rubedo rested his chin on his knuckles and observed the live feed.
Down in the eastern courtyard, the night air remained perfectly still. Torix had spent the afternoon weaving defensive perimeters across every exposed archway. The translucent monomolecular silk hung invisibly between the black glass pillars.
