Half-Slime Sovereign Volume 4: The Crownlands

The emergency bells continued to echo across Stonehollow long after Adrian stepped from the warmth of his home.

Only moments earlier, the town had been filled with laughter. Children had chased Ember through the streets while merchants celebrated the Mayor’s return from Verdant Reach. Music had drifted from the taverns, lanterns had illuminated the market square, and the familiar bustle of Stonehollow had carried on well into the evening. Now that same town moved with disciplined urgency. Guards hurried towards the western wall carrying spears and shields, adventurers poured from the guild hall while fastening armour that had barely been removed after the evening meal, and townsfolk ushered frightened families indoors as heavy wooden shutters slammed closed one house after another.

The celebration had ended.

Stonehollow was preparing for trouble.

Adrian walked calmly through the middle of it all, although the expression on his face had become considerably more serious. Ember rested upon his shoulder, his little ears pointed towards the western gate while his amber eyes watched the rooftops. The small creature had been unusually quiet since the bells began ringing, which Adrian considered a particularly troubling development. Ember normally possessed enough energy to make even the most exhausting journey feel like an extended afternoon at a playground.

Kael walked beside Adrian, one hand resting near the hilts of his twin blades. His sharp Beastkin senses swept across the surrounding streets, searching for anything that might explain the sudden alarm. Elena followed a few steps behind, emerald mana drifting around her fingertips while Sky circled above the rooftops, his enormous wings barely making a sound beneath the moonlit sky.

Theron walked on Adrian’s opposite side. The giant High Elf had not bothered changing out of the travelling clothes he had worn since returning from Verdant Reach. Frostrender rested comfortably across one broad shoulder, its immense weight apparently no more inconvenient than carrying a walking stick. Ruby and Mira hurried alongside him, the young girl looking equal parts nervous and excited despite her mother’s repeated reminders to remain behind the adults if fighting began.

Borin spat onto the cobblestones, his grim expression matching the sour metallic taste in his mouth.

“So much fer one peaceful evenin’.”

Lyra adjusted the enchanted daggers resting against her hips. Their silver runes pulsed faintly beneath the lantern light, and a familiar smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“When have we ever had one of those, Borin? Peace doesn’t pay our tavern tabs.”

“Neither does gettin’ killed.”

“Well, that’s a rather pessimistic way of looking at things.”

“It’s a practical way.”

Adrian glanced between them. “Could we perhaps postpone the argument until after we’ve established whether someone is actually trying to kill us?”

Lyra gave him an innocent smile. “Of course, Mayor.”

Borin grumbled something under his breath.

Despite the exchange, Adrian could feel the tension building around them. The streets gradually widened as they approached the western district, but the atmosphere grew heavier with every step. People lined the road, huddled in doorways and beneath awnings. Some whispered prayers, while others watched the approaching group with frightened expressions. A mother held her young son tightly against her chest, and an elderly merchant hurriedly pulled his granddaughter behind the safety of his shop’s wooden shutters.

Word had spread through Stonehollow like wildfire.

Valdrik’s sister had come.

Even those who knew little about Beastkin politics remembered the brutal battle that had nearly destroyed their town only weeks earlier. The smell of burning thatch, the screams of wounded soldiers and the sight of shattered buildings still haunted many of the residents. Nobody wanted another siege. Nobody wanted another night spent wondering whether their homes would still be standing when the sun rose.

The western gate stood firmly closed, its massive iron-reinforced timber doors secured by thick locking bars. Dozens of guards occupied the battlements above, their bows drawn and their knuckles white around the polished wood. Heavy ballistae had been rotated towards the open plains, their iron-tipped bolts aimed at the darkness beyond the walls.

Captain Jimmy waited beside the gatehouse. Surrounded by several senior adventurers, he looked unusually uncomfortable. His normally cheerful face had tightened into an expression of concentration, and he immediately straightened when Adrian approached.

“The walls are secure, Adrian,” Jimmy reported. “I’ve doubled the watch and ordered the outer patrols back inside. The ballistae are ready, and the archers have clear lines of sight.”

“Good. What are we looking at?”

Jimmy hesitated.

“Thirty-two Beastkin warriors. Heavily armed. They’ve positioned themselves beyond longbow range and haven’t moved since arriving.”

“Have they made any demands?”

“No, sir.”

“Threatened the gate?”

“No.”

“Attempted to attack anyone?”

“Not a single one.”

Adrian glanced towards Kael.

The Beastkin captain’s expression had darkened. He already knew who was waiting beyond the walls.

“They aren’t here for the gold, Jimmy.”

Kael moved towards the stone staircase leading to the battlements. His claws scraped softly against the masonry as he climbed, his gaze fixed upon the distant plains.

“I’ll confirm their intentions myself.”

Adrian followed him, the others falling into step behind them. The cool night wind greeted them as they reached the upper wall, carrying the scent of damp earth and wild grass from the untamed frontier stretching beyond Stonehollow.

Then Adrian saw them.

Thirty-two figures stood perfectly still beneath the pale moonlight.