After some hours, they had finally reached Goldfire Refuge.

Goldfire Refuge appeared through the thinning trees like something that had been placed there without much thought and had not changed since.

It was a small community with modest walls, modest buildings, the kind of place that had settled into a comfortable level of existence and stopped pushing beyond it. The road leading to its entrance was well maintained though, which said something about the trade traffic that passed through regularly on the way between Liberty Road and the cities beyond.

Two security personnel stepped out from the entrance post the moment the caravan slowed, both of them dressed in the refuge’s standard uniform and carrying the practiced authority of men whose entire job was asking questions and deciding who moved forward.

The older one came to the driver’s side and raised a hand.

"State your origin and destination," he said.

Crest brought the caravan to a full stop.

Sera stepped down from her side without waiting to be asked, landed on the road, and reached into her jacket. She produced the Steel Empire sigil, a compact badge carrying the empire’s seal in raised metal, the kind of identification that people in positions like these recognised immediately.

The security man looked at it.

Then he looked at Sera.

Then he stepped back slightly and straightened up.

"Steel Empire," he said.

"Yes," Sera said. "We are passing through. Headed to Strength City."

The man nodded once and looked at his colleague, who had already moved to wave the caravan through.

"No issues," the older one said. "Safe travels."

Sera got back in without responding and the caravan rolled forward through the Goldfire Refuge entrance and straight through the other side without stopping, the small community passing on either side like a brief interruption before the road opened back up ahead of them.

Nobody spoke for a while after that.

...

Strength City announced itself long before they reached it.

The road widened gradually as they got closer, the surface improving with each kilometre until it was as clean and evenly laid as any road Roman had seen since entering the Badlands.

The treeline gave way to open ground on both sides, and the structures that began appearing in the distance were not the kind of structures that a person could mistake for anything other than what they were.

Big. Organised. Built with intention.

Strength City was miles ahead of Citadel City in every visible way. Where Citadel City was busy and dense and driven by the energy of trade, Strength City carried a different kind of weight. It was wider, cleaner, and the buildings that rose within its walls had a uniformity to them that suggested someone had planned the whole thing from the beginning rather than letting it grow on its own.

The walls themselves were the first thing that really hit. Thick, tall, constructed from stone that looked like it had been chosen for quality rather than just availability, with guard posts at measured intervals and the movement of organised personnel visible even from the road outside.

The caravan pulled up to the border entrance and stopped at the gate.

A border keeper stepped forward, broad shouldered and straight backed, with three others visible behind him at the gate itself.

"Origin and purpose," he said.

Sera stepped down again.

"Steel Empire," she said. "We are passing through Strength City to access the Grand Passage at the three-mile point. The opening section is blocked by heavy traffic and we need the city road for transit."

The border keeper looked at the sigil she held out.

Then he looked at the caravan.

Then he looked back at Sera.

"It is against our city’s law to allow foreign vehicles to use our roads for distant transport purposes," he said. "Strength City roads are for residents and registered trade partners only."

"We are from the Steel Empire," Sera said, keeping her voice level. "The Emperor himself sent us on a mission. We are not here to cause any disruption. We only need passage through."

"That may be," the border keeper said, "but the law applies regardless of origin. I cannot make exceptions based on..."

"I am not asking for an exception," Sera said, and for the first time her voice carried a slight edge. "I am asking you to recognise that we are official Steel Empire representatives on imperial business and act accordingly."

"And I am telling you," the border keeper said, matching her tone without raising his, "that the law of Strength City does not bend for imperial business that is not our imperial business."

The two of them looked at each other, and the argument settled into the kind of tense, unmoving standoff where both sides have said their position clearly and neither one is ready to step back from it.

Behind them, Dax had gotten out of the caravan and was standing with his arms folded, and Crest had his window down watching the exchange with the patient expression of someone who had been through enough of these situations to know that forcing it rarely helped.

The argument had been going for several minutes and was getting nowhere when the sound of hooves came from inside the gate.

Everyone turned.

A white horse came through the gate at a calm, unhurried pace, and the person riding it was dressed in a way that made the distinction between authority and performance completely unnecessary.

Deep city colours, a long coat fitted to look both formal and functional, the kind of posture that came from years of being the person in every room that other people oriented themselves around without being asked to.

The border keepers turned, saw who it was, and bowed immediately.

The horse came to a stop just inside the gate and the rider looked down at the scene in front of her with a calm, assessing expression.

The border keeper in charge opened his mouth to begin an explanation.

She raised one hand and he closed it.

She looked at the caravan. She looked at Sera. She looked at the sigil still in Sera’s hand.

"They are from the Steel Empire," she said simply. "Let them pass."

The border keepers moved without another word, the gate opening smoothly, and Sera looked up at the rider for a moment before giving a short nod of acknowledgement.

At the back of the caravan, Roman had been watching through the gap in the rear covering since the horse appeared, and he had been leaning forward slightly more with every passing second.

He already knew before she spoke.

The composure. The white horse. The way every person at that gate had stopped arguing the moment she showed up, not because they were afraid of her but because they simply recognised that the conversation was over.

North Rockbridge, Mayor of Strength City.

Roman sat back and let out a slow breath.

"Keep moving," Dax said from the front, and the caravan rolled forward through the gate and into Strength City.

The city was even more impressive from inside.

Wide roads, organised movement, vendors and residents going about their business with the calm efficiency of people who lived somewhere that functioned the way it was supposed to. There was a cleanliness to it that Blood Trial Outpost could not even imagine yet, and Roman took it all in quietly, filing every detail away.

They had not gone far when the sound of hooves came up alongside the caravan.

North drew level with the driver’s window and spoke to Crest.

"You have been travelling for some time," she said. It was not really a question.

"Several days," Sera answered from the passenger side.

North nodded slowly.

"Then join me for dinner before you continue," she said. "Rest here tonight. The Grand Passage will still be there in the morning."

Sera’s expression did not change. "We appreciate the offer but we are on a schedule."

"One night," North said simply. "You and your team. The road is long and you will travel better for the rest."

Crest and Sera exchanged a brief look.

North’s gaze drifted to the back of the caravan for just a moment, and then back to Sera.

"Your guests will be looked after," she said. "I will have ten of my own men watch the caravan. They will not be going anywhere."

Sera stared at her.

"How did you..."

"A caravan with covered rear sections and two people who have not moved or spoken since you arrived," North said. "It was not difficult."

Dax looked at Crest. Crest looked at Sera. Sera looked at North.

"One night," Sera muttered finally.

North nodded and turned her horse toward the Mayor’s residence at the centre of the city, and the caravan followed.

...

The residence was large, well lit, and staffed by people who moved with the particular efficiency of a place that ran properly all the time and not just when guests arrived.

Ten C rank guards took positions around the caravan the moment it stopped in the outer area in the distance, arranged with the practiced spacing of people who knew what they were doing.

Sera, Crest and Dax followed North inside.

And soon, the area went silent.

Roman waited until the last footstep faded and the sound of the distance had swallowed it.

Then he turned to Arnold.

"They are gone," he said.

Arnold looked at the ten guards standing at measured intervals around the caravan, then looked back at Roman.

"Right. Gone. Except for the ten C rankers surrounding us."

Roman looked at the guards, then back at Arnold, and the corner of his mouth pulled upward slightly.

"Are you ready to get the hell outta here or not?"

Arnold stared at him for a long moment with the expression of someone who had still not fully decided what to make of the person sitting across from him but was running out of time to figure it out.

"Fine," he said. "Yes."

Roman nodded once, and then opened the Soul Bank.

He just decided to summon three Soul Servants, leaving the Bone Crawler Sovereign and the Soldier Blade Ant of course.

And so... He was ready.