The Baron's protests were little more than breathless murmurs as her knights dragged him forward, his weight shifting unsteadily between them. He didn't resist—none of them ever did, not truly. The moment their walls crumbled, the moment the weight of their sins was forced upon them, they all broke the same way.
Valeria followed behind, her boots echoing against the stone floor, her grip still firm around the hilt of her sword. The castle halls stretched wide before them, lined with faded tapestries, fine paintings—ornate displays of stolen wealth. She had seen this before. Again and again.
Five.
Five barons had fallen by her hand. Five castles conquered, five noblemen dragged from their thrones like common criminals.
And every single one of them had been the same.
