“Welp, that must be Balet.”

They had left the ever-present embrace of the heavy forest two days ago, and were now walking down the cobblestone road surrounded by lush green fields that only had a sporadic tree or bush here and there. Rick could see scorch marks all over the place, and judging by the long strips of barren land that ran parallel to the golden wheat fields round the city walls, it seemed they had a purpose of some sort.

The city was… well, by his world’s standards. It felt small when compared to a metropolis. But when compared to the medieval cities he’d seen in pictures, it felt far more… more. The place looked like it had been built with the intention of making it look like a gigantic target practice from space.

On the outermost edge were several concentric rings of barren dirt, separate from one another by long strips of land covered in lush greens. After the fifth ring was where the farmland started, wheat being the most prevalent crop and also being grown concentrically to the city itself. Then came the first wall, a structure that seemed to have been made out of wood. The structure was made out of tall parallel trunks, perhaps a couple hundred meters long and only covering a small portion of the perimeter. From a distance it was hard to make out, but Rick was fairly sure there were no less than hundred people dismantling the thing.

Then came a long stretch of barren land, penetrated only by the road itself, and then the ‘real’ walls, monoliths of stone that must have been at least maybe fifty meters tall. With the rest of the city well hidden behind it. “It looks… well protected.”

“Do the protections go all the way around?” Tomas pipped up, glancing at Victor.

“Indeed they do, since there have been feral rushes coming from just about every direction. Just five years ago, we had a big one coming from the north. The ferals were particularly hardy and troublesome since they managed to bring down a part of the wall.” He nodded in response. There was a certain spring in his step as he walked.

“So you’ve been here when they fought.” Mr. Gabriel frowned as he spoke.

“Just about every citizen of Balet is expected to at least be aware of how the city fights ferals and what to do in case of things going badly.” Victor looked quite eager to answer, smiling up at the frowning old man. “The first perimeter of defense typically involves hurling explosives and incendiary potions at the ferals, the general intention being to funnel them as tightly as possible.” A slight nod, the look on his face as if he were reading the facts off of a book. “Once they reach the crops, the iron rain begins.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“They’re merely spears, thrown spears.” The man shrugged. “Thrown metal spears.”

Rick did a double-take.

“That’s… that’s almost a kilometer.”

“Could you imagine Monica throwing a metal spear? How far would that get?”

All eyes snapped to the feline. Monica realized they were talking about her and glanced back, eyes focusing on Rick. His mind broke down the math, what little he understood of it at least. If Monica had enough physical strength to be able to lift a fully mature tree, then a single metal spear… He suddenly could imagine a cow getting nailed against a wall from a hundred meters away. It made him shudder from head to toe.

Seeing no followup, she turned forward and focused on the cart that was traveling a couple dozen meters ahead of them. She kept sniffing the air and licking her lips, and Rick was mostly sure he was going to run out of boar jerky to distract her.

“Their methods could certainly do with some improvement.” Victor appeared slightly bitter as he said this. “Many smiths end up becoming too occupied repairing the recovered spears after every rush. It can often mean an order gets pushed back weeks if not over a month since the Hunters have priority.”

“What if the ferals survive the spears?”

“If they do, then they get picked off by fliers or attacked from both the walls and from underground during the stretch of land between the first and second wall.” The man just shrugged and sighed.

“What if the ferals don’t feel that suicidal?”

“Then the crops are set ablaze while they are on it. If the fire doesn’t kill them, then the smoke will certainly choke them enough to make for easier pickings. A loss, but one that would have happened if the ferals weren’t driven off.”

“Who pays for the damages?”

The question caused Victor to stumble as he glanced at Kat and put up a brighter commercial smile. “If I remember correctly, the Earl owns the farmland, so it would fall under his responsibility.”

Nodding absently, Rick glanced at the walls and felt a twinge of concern creeping down his spine. The man that had invited him to talk was the same guy who owned those walls, and could give the order for ‘iron rain’ to turn an area into pincushions from a kilometer away.

Rick’s gaze turned towards Monica, looking at the feline as she walked. The last thing he wanted would be to start trouble.

“How does the city handle… feralborn maidens?”

“Black collars are usually kept either to the farms or the secure zone within the walls. But I am entirely unsure how this situation would unfold considering you hold the Earl’s invitation and it mentions Monica.” Victor shook his head at this. “It would likely be best to confirm at the gate, White Claw’s situation is rather unique to say the least.”

“This is going to suck.” Kat wrapped her arms around Lizzy’s neck, the reptilian maiden not quite really paying attention to her and instead keeping her off-yellow eyes darting in every direction.

“If I may.” Freya spoke up, drawing attention as she stepped forward. “I received instructions from the Major to relay a report to the city Hunters. It includes details of Monica’s and sir Rick’s special circumstances.”

“Sir Rick?” Kat barked out a laugh, moving into a fit of giggles.

He just rolled his eyes and continued walking. “One step at a time, let’s… see how Monica handles this.”

“Catnip?”

“She’s already figured that one out. If you’re feeling brave or curious about what she’ll do with it when you offer, go try.” He shot an unamused look at Tomas. The young man paled slightly and vigorously shook his head.

“Wus.” Kat elbowed him with a little smirk.

They continued approaching the city, watching the line of people at the entrance slowly grow. By the time they were reaching the stone walls and stepping into its shadow, there was a gathering of people in front of the wall, and it was growing larger by the looks of it. Many caravans and travelers were denied access to the city and sent to wait at the side. By the looks of it, Rick could spot the guards asking for papers, running into the wall, and then coming back out. Whatever verification procedure these people were having, it didn’t seem that their system was fast enough to keep up with the influx of people.

“This is going to be… stressful.” He muttered as the two plate-armor-wearing maidens approached the cart in front of them.

Both stopped cold the moment their eyes had locked on Monica.

“Shit.” Everyone heard the first guard whisper the word under her breath. Her focus very quickly turned to the cart, and she raised her voice. “Off to the side.”

The cart-owner did not seem in an argumentative mood when there were five more guards hurrying up to join their companions. Each of them wielded lances four meters long, made out of a pale blue metal and with a wicked sharp tip. They stood in formation a good ten meters in front of them.

Monica began to growl.

Everyone present flinched.

“Sir, is that White Fang?” The apparent leader of the group asked loud and clear, her hand doing very quick gestures at the knights.

“She’s telling them to not show aggression.” Freya whispered under her breath.

“I am. Name’s Rick Cross. I have the Earl’s invitation.” Reaching into his backpack, he pulled out the piece of paper the Baroness had signed as proof of having received the invitation through the radio system.

“We were informed of the circumstances involving your maiden.” The maiden kept her tone clear. Her hand gestured to the area not too far off from where everyone else had been made to stop and wait for entry. “If you will please settle down there, we will inform the Earl and take measures to avoid your maiden from being… agitated… while traversing to the Earl’s castle.”

Rick could almost hear the crowd gulp collectively.