Chapter 232
The group reached a small, inconspicuous inn near the docks. The building, dusty and dark, bore signs of disrepair—planks stacked against the side, cobwebs in the corners, and a faded sign barely holding on to its hinges.
Though it appeared abandoned, there was a quiet tension in the air that told otherwise.
Martina led the way, her boots silent on the wooden bridge leading to the inn’s rear. She pulled out a silver, metallic mask from her cloak and placed it over her face. The mask clinked softly, locking in place, its design sleek and smooth with only thin slits for the eyes.
The rest of the team followed suit, each pulling out their own mask—custom fit, concealing their identities with efficiency.
"Remember," Martina said, her voice muffled slightly through the mask, "don’t let anyone see your face. If you’re recognized... this mission could turn very brutal."
Sol scoffed, confident as ever. "For real? You all act like we aren’t ghosts in the night."
Freya smacked him on the back of the head. "Then act like one."
Quiet now, they crept through the side alley, slipping into the pre-identified blind spot between rotating patrols. Moonlight glinted faintly on metal helmets of guards in the distance. Just as they approached a hidden path carved between the crates and stone walls, a knight stepped out from the shadows.
Martina stepped forward calmly, her hand subtly resting on the hilt of her concealed blade.
"Are you the team sent by Her Highness?" the man asked, voice low and cautious.
"Yes," Martina answered flatly, her voice modulated to stay unrecognizable.