The fire at the harbour raged.
Flames climbed the masts, devouring sails and rigging. The wooden piers burned like torches, lighting up the dark waters. Smoke rolled into the sky, thick and choking.
Town watchmen and dock workers fought desperately. Some formed bucket lines. Others hacked at the fire with whatever they could use. Orders were shouted, voices desperate.
Sparks danced in the air, carried by the sea breeze. The heat was unbearable. The panic was spreading.
But no one realized the real danger was already inside the city.
-----------------
Tanaka walked forward.
The fire had done its job. The city was too busy to notice anything else. Even the castle guards had turned their heads toward the harbour.
At the Fool's Gate, a group of men stood watch. Their hands gripped their weapons tight.
"Pirates?" one of them muttered.
"No raids in years," another answered. "Could be something worse."
"Stay sharp," their captain warned. "We hold the gate until we know what's happening."
They were wary.
But they weren't looking in the right place.
The shinobi struck.
Knives flashed. Blood spilled. Bodies crumpled. The guards never had a chance to scream.
One tried to turn, but a kunai buried itself in his throat. His body convulsed before going still.
More and more down.
The gatehouse fell silent.
They stepped over a corpse, wiping their blade clean. Behind them, a second team worked fast. The portcullis groaned, locking into place. No one would enter. No one would leave.
Then, they waited.
A distant sound broke the silence.
Hoofbeats.
Heavy. Steady. Getting closer.
-----------------
The distant shouts carried through the night, faint but growing louder.
The sky was clouded dark, yet for a moment, it seemed to glow. A flickering light spread across the horizon.
Kartiga sat up.
The air felt heavier now. He pulled on his grey hood, stepping toward the window. The harbor burned in the distance, flames rising high, their reflection dancing over the water. The fire was massive. Even the stone walls couldn't hide its glow.
For a long moment, he stood watching. Then, without another thought, he pulled his hood lower and turned away.
Outside his chamber, a man waited.
Kai stood silent, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp as ever. The moment Kartiga stepped out, he followed without a word.
The halls smelled of something bad and thick.
Kartiga barely reacted, but he knew the scent. Blood.
As they moved down the stairs, it grew stronger.
At the bottom, eight women stood waiting. Visha Kanyas. Each one knelt, heads bowed, gripping knives still wet with blood. Their faces remained expressionless.
Kartiga glanced past them.
The bodies lay scattered across the room. Some were slumped over tables, others collapsed on the floor, their eyes still open. Their mouths hung slightly ajar, as if trying to understand what had happened.
Poor fools.
Some still clutched at their chests, the poison working too fast for them to react. Others had died staring at the women they thought would warm their beds tonight.
Kartiga exhaled, then waved a hand.
Without hesitation, the Visha Kanyas rose and stepped aside, fading into the shadows.
Kai said nothing, but Kartiga could sense his wariness. Not because of the women, but because of what awaited them outside.
Stepping into the open air, Kartiga finally took in the full scale of the fire.
The harbor was an inferno, its flames stretching toward the sky. Even from this distance, he could hear the crackling of wood and the occasional distant shouts of panic.
It had begun.
He took a slow breath, adjusting his hood. Then, with steady steps, he walked toward Fool's Gate.
A summon awaited him there.
Curiosity lingered in his mind, but something else pressed against it. A tension—not fear, but anticipation. The kind that came before a moment that would shape everything.
Then, he heard it.
The distant thunder of hooves against the stone.
They were coming.
Figures on horseback emerged from the dark, their approach swift and controlled. Even before he saw them clearly, Kartiga knew who they were.
Legendary men. Knights.
The system had called them the Templar Order, and now they rode before him.
They were not clad in full plate, but chainmail covered them beneath long, white surcoats. Steel guarded their arms and legs, their helms flat-topped but sturdy. They carried long lances in their hands, their grips steady, unshaken by the flames before them.
But one thing was missing.
No crosses adorned their armor. Their white garments bore no mark of faith.
They rode past him at first, moving like silent phantoms. But then, one by one, their heads turned.
Their gazes locked onto Kartiga.
Kai shifted slightly, stepping in front of him. His hand didn't go to his weapon, but his stance changed. He was ready.
Kartiga placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
Kai hesitated, then stepped back.
Kartiga took another step forward.
The knights halted.
In perfect unison, they dismounted, boots hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Then, as one, they drew their swords and drove them into the earth.
The fire's glow reflected off their steel as they knelt.
A single voice rose first. Then another. And another.
"My Lord Master, at your service."
Kartiga watched them in silence.
----------------
The Fool's Gate was shut. The walls were taken. The city was sealed.
Now, the castle.
The shinobi moved like shadows, slipping into the courtyard.
A few guards remained at their posts, shifting uneasily. They stole glances toward the fire, gripping their swords tighter.
Something felt wrong.
A soldier rushed toward the great hall, speaking in a low voice to another guard. They weren't panicking. But they were on edge.
Then, the first blade struck.
A guard gasped, eyes wide, before his body sagged forward. Another turned, just in time to see steel flash. He crumpled, blood pooling beneath him.
One by one, they fell.
The shinobi pressed forward.
Past the stables. Past the training yard.
A stablehand rushed out, breathless. His eyes flicked toward the fire. He hesitated.
A hand clamped over his mouth. A dagger slid into his throat.
No screams. No warnings. Only silence.
Another team broke away, heading for the barracks.
Inside, men were stirring. Some were half-dressed. Others sat on their bunks, talking in hushed voices. They knew something was happening.
They just didn't know how close death had come.
The door creaked open.
A blade found the first man's throat before he could rise. Another died before his hand reached his sword. A struggle. A choked breath. Then, nothing.
In the armory, the same fate awaited.
A few men stood watch, eyes darting between their weapons and the distant fire.
They never got the chance to use them.
----------
Tanaka entered.
He moved toward the great hall. His steps were steady. His focus sharp.
The castle was almost theirs.
At the end of the corridor, the great chamber doors loomed tall.
Inside, Lord Mooton waited.
Tanaka exhaled calmly.
Then, he reached for the handle.
The final phase had begun.
[
For more chapters, access my patreon
link: patreon.com/AmouxCreationX
]