Step.
Step.
Step.
Each footfall of the soldiers rang out against the marble floors, vibrating faintly through the grand halls like an approaching storm.
Among them walked Steve, hands loosely bound, his eyes flickering from one ornate wall to the next.
He couldn't help but notice the eerie silence. The palace, for all its majesty, was... underwhelming in terms of protection.
The long corridors they passed through were grand, certainly—towering pillars, velvet-lined drapes, glowing lanterns mounted on gold-plated sconces—but they lacked something else.
Guards.
It was strange. Very strange.
The arcane building he'd once performed in—just a place for exhibitions—had been crawling with armed guards. There, he could barely pull off a minor sleight-of-hand without someone breathing down his neck. But here, in the royal grounds, he'd counted maybe three guards since entering.
Something about that didn't sit right with him.
