Elena was swinging her other leg over her already saddled horse even before the grim guardsman finished telling her the news. They had found civilians murdered in an abandoned inn nearby. Elena’s remaining arm grasped blindly for the reins as she scanned her troops. The sun had nearly finished its long, brilliant journey across the sky, bringing forth the stillness of the evening. Yet the quiet peace of sunset was once again shattered by the clattering of the soldiers following her actions. Elena looked up towards the sky and oriented herself towards the direction of the supposed murders.

I fucking swear if that asshole Adrian ran off to kill more people yet again, I don’t care if we’re facing an imminent threat to the city. I’m going to castrate that son of a bitch so he can focus on something other than ‘satiating his bloodlust’ or whatever edgy term he uses now. Holy moly. First a deranged half-elf and his demon friends run riot over the city, and now I have a coworker that’s ended up killing more people than that halfie fuck during this week alone. Elena seethed internally, her men choosing to ignore her contorted expressions, the occasional mutterings of death threats, and the fact that even her red hair writhed on its own, infused with the hero’s wrath.

All I ever fucking wanted was to graduate from the university, get some random-ass job probably unrelated to my fucking degree, maybe find a good guy and settle down. But no! Elena bit down on her teeth so hard the nearest soldier heard a ‘crack’. I get summoned by those assholes of a government. Next thing I know, I’m playing fucking mediator between a bunch of psychopaths and antisocial freaks. And now, I’m stuck cleaning up after Adrian takes a colossal fucking shit over the slums and burns it down for fun. I fucking swear I’m going to finally listen to Clarkson and retire in the countryside.

Especially since… since those city bureaucrat bastards can’t even get us home again.

Home.

Elena’s face contorted, but she swiftly forced her nauseous homesick feelings deep down into her stomach. Anger aside, Elena did not have time for public emotions.

“Clarkson, let’s head off towards that inn. Keep an eye out for Adrian. If you see him, let me know and I’ll deal with the whelp. Once we get there, we solve this fast and keep moving. Since you were kind enough to destroy my entire wine cellar, you lot will get the pleasure of patrolling all night after this.”

Clarkson shivered from where his horse patiently waited behind her, looking visibly depressed as he motioned for Elena’s soldiers to move out.

He had known that he had to do it, and he had ordered it done to help lady Elena, but he had also wondered at the time if he would have the strength to face the consequences. And boy was it going to be a grueling night without a drop of liquor or a fire to warm him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Not even twenty minutes later Elena sat on her horse, bored out of her mind, as Clarkson and two of her soldiers attempted to make heads or tails of the convoluted leaflet of orders. The rather quiet captain of the guard (was he getting an attitude now?!) had given them the pile of papers when they had arrived at the edge of the cordon blocking off the streets leading to the inn. The captain himself hadn’t said a single word, electing to stare at her men instead. She was pretty sure he hadn’t even blinked a single time since they had gotten there.

Odd. Perhaps mutinous. One more problem she didn’t have time to deal with.

Elena dismounted her horse, stomping forwards letting the metallic clanging of her plate mail armor introduce her. The noise shattered the confused mutterings of her men and bounced off the walls of the nearby buildings to produce a truly deafening cacophony, but it was to no avail as Clarkson ignored her in favor of mulling through the stacks of orders instead.

“I just don’t quite understand it.” She heard Clarkson mutter to the two men near him. “Why would they include so many clauses and cross-references that we need to take care of before we even cross the rope? And they didn’t even offer any whiskey to help get us through this snake knot!”

She let him finish his sentence, but that was as far as her patience went. Elena gave up and knocked on his helmet, her lips curling in amusement as the man jumped.

“And speak of the devil! There’s even a clause stating that we need page 23 signed in triplicate by the office of the guard and returned to the registrar at the mail office if a hero wants to access the crime scene! IN FUCKING TRIPLICATE! The office of the guard is on the other fucking side of town!”

Elena shook her head in annoyance and grabbed the stack of papers out of Clarkson’s hands. She tried to shuffle through them, but quickly realized that required two hands. She growled and sat down, putting the papers on the ground, flicking through them one by one. Clarkson slinked away as he watched the papers deforming more and more to the shape of her gauntlets each page was shuffled away. Soon the last paper was flipped over and Elena locked eyes with the unnaturally still Vort.

“What fucking bullshit is this.” She asked the captain. When there was no response, she flung the papers in the air at him. They didn’t get very far, and fluttered around her. One stuck in her armor. Elena screamed as she stood up, ripping the paper out from the joints of the metal and attempting to fling it away too.

“I’m a hero, here to investigate a crime! The last time I checked, you lot in the guard had no rights to stop me from doing so. I don’t know if this is some idiotic power play or if you’ve gone mad, but I’m invoking what I like to call ‘I am a hero, so just try and stop me from entering that building.’”

Elena swiftly grasped her sword, unsheathing with a ring while Clarkson and her soldiers readied their own various weapons.

In response, Vort, the captain of the Drassington guard, simply cocked his head to the side as he stared at her with unblinking eyes. The sounds of boots clattering against the cobbles rose to a crescendo as what seemed like hundreds of stone-faced guards began to stream out of the alleyways and out of the houses to surround her group. Elena blinked in surprise as a few quickly falling shapes registered in the corner of her eyes. A brief glance revealed several emotionless guards had even squeezed onto the rooftops. One rooftop was so crowded a guard fell down as she watched, clattering facedown like a discarded toy soldier. He did not so much as whimper as he lay on the ground, head slowly swiveling to stare at her.

More and more guards appeared. Within seconds the entire group was surrounded by a mass of bodies coated in steel armor and chain mail.

But what disconcerted Elena the most was that not even a single order or a single word was spoken. The guards only stared.

And not a single one of them blinked.