Chapter 57 - Smoke and Steel

The tunnel air was damp, thick with the stench of mildew, sweat, and old blood. Footsteps echoed like whispers of ghosts, hushed and cautious, each step weighted by the gravity of what they'd seen. Lusweti and his warriors reassembled beneath the city, every face a canvas of shadow and tension. Dirt clung to their skin, blood—some of it theirs, most not—splattered their tunics and weapons.

Irungu was the first to speak, kneeling beside Lusweti. "The delegates were still alive… barely. Skin clinging to bone, breath rattling in their chests. But they're safe now. The palace is crawling with mercenaries—lazy, drunk, distracted. We thinned their numbers but couldn't get a full count."

Oduor followed, fists clenched tightly. "The docks are worse. Slaves penned like cattle. The fort… it's a fortress. Cannons line the walls, mercenaries patrol every inch. Almeida has doubled the guard since the attacks. They know we're here. They don't know who… but they're on edge."