Marisa exhaled through her nose, a sound that was almost a laugh and almost a warning.
"Sleep, barbarian. Tomorrow the paths get watched more carefully, and the day after that you walk into his hall alone. If you are still determined to make me a public example, you will need the strength to survive the part that comes before it."
She closed her eyes.
Kane kept his open a while longer, listening to the night and the quiet rhythm of her breathing.
The threat he had made sat in the air between them, unanswered and unresolved.
Ahead, the capital and Grathak’s hall waited with their measurements, their packs, and the emperor who had been waiting for his sister to accept a tradition she had already decided to burn.
First light came grey and thin through the canopy.
Kane rose without a word, checked Mjoldr, and kicked dirt over the last traces of their cold camp.
Marisa was already on her feet, cloak drawn close, long black hair tied back for travel.
The unfinished tension from the night before still sat between them, but neither mentioned the threats or the taste of her on his tongue.
There was a capital to reach.
By mid-morning the forest had changed.
The quieter smuggler’s paths Marisa favored began to merge with wider tracks.
Territorial markers appeared more frequently: deep claw gouges in trees, bones hung in deliberate patterns, the occasional skull of a challenger left as warning. Patrols became regular.
Pairs and trios of beast warriors moved along the ridges, eyes sharp, weapons ready.
Most gave Marisa a respectful distance once they caught her scent and the unmistakable bearing of the emperor’s bloodline.
Their eyes lingered on Kane far longer, nostrils flaring at the layered scents he carried: Kessa, Griselda, residual mutant tar, and the faint lingering musk of the emperor’s sister.
Marisa kept her voice low as they walked.
"The outer districts are where the packs still pretend they have room to breathe. River-Fang influence reaches this far. So does the southern trade. Once we pass the second ring of markers, that pretense ends. High bloodlines hold the middle terraces, old families that have kept their shape for centuries. They answer to my brother, but they watch each other just as hard."
"Okay."
"When you stand in the hall, expect at least three of them to be present. Vorra’s people will have a representative if the summons reached them in time. The pure-blood faction will send someone who wants you broken on principle. The quieter ones who have been counting mutant kills will simply watch and calculate."
Kane adjusted Mjoldr’s strap.
"And if I put him down in the first demonstration?"
Marisa’s eyes stayed on the path ahead.
"Then the packs will demand the full trial before the sun sets. He will not be able to refuse without looking weak in front of the bloodlines that already resent how long he has held the throne without a formal binding. You will get your public stage. You will also get every ambitious war-chief deciding whether killing you afterward would make them the next emperor. Winning the measurement is only the beginning of the violence."
A patrol of four crossed the track ahead of them.
The lead warrior, a broad, lion-marked male, raised a hand.
Marisa didn’t slow.
She let her cloak fall open enough for the imperial markings at her throat to show.
The patrol stepped aside at once, though every set of eyes tracked Kane with open, hungry assessment.
One of them inhaled deeply as he passed and bared teeth in something that was not quite a smile.
Kane waited until they were out of earshot.
"They can smell you on me."
"They can smell everything on you. Kessa. The winged one. The mutant you killed. Me. In this empire, that combination is either a declaration or an invitation. My brother will decide which."
The system window flickered at the edge of Kane’s vision as they walked, soft blue text scrolling briefly.
[Location Update: Approaching Berakamon Capital Outer Markers]
[Local Power Density: Elevated]
[Hostile Intent Detected – Multiple Sources]
[Empress’s Mark: Active – Compulsion Resistance holding]
[Note: Proximity to concentrated beast - Sovereign authority increasing]
Kane dismissed it with a blink.
Marisa glanced at him but did not ask. She had already accepted that the barbarian carried tools she could not see.
By late afternoon the trees gave way to broader clearings and the first permanent structures of the outer capital, low stone-and-timber halls, open fighting circles, pens that smelled of both livestock and captives.
The population thickened.
Beastkin of every stripe moved in deliberate currents. Some carried trade. Some carried weapons. Many simply stood and watched the road. The air itself felt different, charged, with the layered dominance of packs that answered to one throne.
Marisa’s voice dropped further.
"Last chance to change the order of arrival. Once we pass the outer markers, word travels to the inner hall within the hour. He will know you walked in with me and without the others."
"I’m not changing it."
"Then keep your answers short when the questions start. He respects strength. He respects nerve. He does not respect speeches."
They reached the outer capital markers at dusk.
Two massive standing stones flanked the road, carved with deep, old runes and the emperor’s personal sign.
A full squad of dark-armored palace warriors blocked the path, larger and more disciplined than any patrol they had passed. Their leader stepped forward, eyes moving from Marisa to Kane and lingering on the axe across his back.
Marisa spoke first, voice carrying the clean authority of bloodline.
"I am bringing the outsider the emperor summoned. Clear the path."
The squad leader’s nostrils flared. He took in Kane’s scent thoroughly, then the faint but unmistakable trace of Marisa still clinging to him.
Several of the warriors behind him shifted, ears angling forward, one of them licking his teeth openly.
"The human reeks of you, lady. And of other claims. The emperor’s hall will find that... interesting."
"That is for the emperor to decide. Not you."
The squad leader held Kane’s stare for a long moment, measuring. Whatever he saw there, or whatever calculation he made about Marisa’s presence, ended in a short, sharp nod.
The squad parted as a path through the markers opened.
Kane walked through first.
The weight of dozens of eyes followed him.
Hostile. Hungry. Calculating.
Marisa kept pace at his side, cloak drawn close again, the refined lines of her body still impossible to ignore even under the growing shadow of the capital.
[Capital Outer District – Entered]
[Threat Level: High]
[Summons Active – Time Remaining until Formal Reception: < 12 hours]
[Advisory: Maintain readiness. Local authority is absolute.]
Kane closed it without breaking stride. Marisa glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
"Whatever tools you carry, keep them ready. The first conversation happens tonight or tomorrow at the latest. After that, the measurement begins."
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