Sanguilia followed her guide towards the well-hidden fort. Ab'li had gone largely silent and was busy waving off groups of guards that came up to him to ask about her, which was quite understandable given their current war with the fanatics and her showing up in the midst of that. She did notice that Ab'li consistently failed to mention that she was fluent in their language and took great care to phrase it so that it would seem that she wasn't able to understand a word of what was being said. She had caught on immediately and had given him a sly smile when they had passed the third group of guards. He nearly failed to get his face back under control when the next group had shown up, obviously giddy with the idea of being able to play a good prank on his fellows.

She was impressed with the amount of security around and how well-oiled the outer defences were. Small groups of around half a dozen Kobolds were patrolling the area in tight patterns, with many more scouts guarding the outer perimeter, working in pairs. If they used their usual tactics, one would engage and delay, while the other would silently call for backup. The patrols would take up defensive positions and further delay the enemy, while the larger contingents that were stationed at outposts would take to the trees and prepare to rain down death and disease on their foes. Kobolds may be small in stature, but in their natural habitat they were fierce fighters and they played to their strengths and weakness perfectly.

As they reached the outpost, Ab'li exchanged a small greeting with a Kobold who distinguished himself from his fellows by the large golden earring that pierced his long, pointed ear. Sanguilia frowned, before remembering that it was a sign of rank used by their Guards. His presence at the outpost made little sense. The Guards were a specific type of their military that was rarely deployed outside the walls of the fort, as opposed to the Hunters such as Ab'li. She leaned on her staff, pretending to be patient and waiting for her host to finish his chat, and started eavesdropping.

"I'm telling you, Lik'r, she can be trusted. She's visited the halls of the King himself!" Ab'li said, raising his voice. Annoyance dripped out of it.

"I don't care. She's human, so she's an enemy! What did you think, bringing a foe to our homes! Has your mind cracked from all those dorberries you so love to eat? Or did she bribe you?" Lik'r responded.

That wasn't good. She wasn't particularly concerned about the two dozen crossbows that were casually held by the Kobolds behind him, nor that they were pointed in her general direction, naturally not going as far as aiming openly at her, but Lik'r was dangerously close to insulting her host's honour, and that would end in blood.

Ab'li folded his arms and gave a cold, menacing stare that caused Lik'r to take a step back despite himself. "She is our guest. We exchanged the official greetings. Do you dare question my right to invite a guest, Lik'r, Guardian of the West Gate?"

Lik'r seemed to be taken aback by that statement. It was all but a challenge for Kobolds. He would either bow down and lose face, or he would end up having a duel. To the death at that.

She could see the muscles in Ab'li's arms start to bulge as he moved his hand to the heft of his knife. "Well?" he hissed through his teeth.

Pearls of sweat formed on Lik'r's head, slowly rolling down his face as he considered his answer. If she had to take a guess, it would be unlikely that he'd back down. He was simply calculating his chances of winning. She knew his type. Angry, full of blind hate against humans. Similar to the fanatics who fought for the Lord, really. It was rare to see one in a position that high though. She fully ignored the Kobolds behind him and focused solely on the pair facing off. Slowly but surely, Lik'r's hand slid towards his own short sword.

"Traitor!" he screamed, and attacked. He pulled his sword in a move that spoke of his abilities and experience, and Ab'li barely managed to get his own knife out in time. She knew that it would be hard to parry a sharp thrust, and both of the combatants knew it as well. Lunging forward, Lik'r brought his sword up against the knife, slid past it and aimed to perforate Ab'li with a single attack. Time seemed to slow as the blade neared his skin. It crept closer, inch by inch, and then a rain of sparks crashed into the blade and tore it to pieces, simply evaporating it. Lik'r's eyes went wide as saucers as he lost his balance and fell forward, and Ab'li struck before he could recover, bringing his knee up and smashing it straight into his opponent's face. His head bounced back a bit from the impact, but the rest of Lik'r's body continued to fall down. Ab'li adjusted his stance and stabbed his knife into the ground, against the skin of Lik'r's neck.

"You dare attack me like that! I should cut off your limbs one by one and feed you to the ants you mongrel! Ab'li shouted, more outraged by the lack of proper procedure than the attack itself.

"Ab'li." She could hold her tongue no longer. She had interfered earlier, out of obligation, and this was no different.

Muttering erupted from the other Kobolds as she walked over to the pair. Ab'li regained his self-control and took a step back from his downed foe. Lik'r grunted as he regained his senses. Before he could get his act together, however, Sanguilia delicately wrapped her fingers around his neck. He reached for them, too out of it to understand what was happening. The fingers tightened into a ring of steel as she clasped them shut. Standing up, not bothered by his weight in the slightest, she raised him until his feet were dangling well off the ground. She looked him dead in the eyes and could see panic starting to form in his mind as he met her cold, unforgiving stare.

"On the invitation of Ab'li, Forebow of the Hunters and Warden of the West Gate, I entered this hold as his guest. In turn, I serve the hold with body and mind while I share your halls, she stated. She kept the tone of her voice official, oratory. Yet her fingers slowly tightened more and more with each word that passed her lips.

"Lik'r, Guardian of the West Gate, do you deny Ab'li's right to invite a guest into the hold? Do you deny me the hold's hospitality? Do you deny that I am a guest, invited in by one of your kin?" She added a layer of ice to her voice, her gaze taking on the cold of death as she asked it of him, as she dared him to defy her and her host.

Lik'r gasped for breath, and fruitlessly struggled against her hand as it closed more and more. His breath came out in short gasps, but didn't go back in. His face started turning purple, but he started shaking his head, desperate for breath and relief. His trousers coloured damp with wetness and a sour odour filled the area as his bladder control gave out.

Not easing up on her grasp but ceasing to crush his throat further, Sanguilia turned toward Ab'li, who was watching the exchange with a stare that he tried to keep neutral. He met her eyes and found no emotion in there, only dedication to the rules she had just enforced. He pondered the situation for a moment, ignoring Lik'r's desperate gurgles, and nodded once, solemnly.

Sanguilia turned back towards the Kobold in her hand, who was now turning blue, and dropped him. He fell to the ground, his hands reaching for his throat while he gasped in air as if it was sweet ambrosia.

"Go in peace," she whispered.

Lik'r heard the words and looked up just in time to see Sanguilia's staff come down on him like lightning. He felt a sharp pain burn through his skull, and then...

Nothing.