Chapter 11
The sheer momentum of Julian’s counter-attack momentarily halted the guard advancement. Sparks flew as steel clashed against steel along the narrow stone walkway of the gallery. Cassian crouched near the parapet wall, watching the skirmish with anxious eyes, using his remaining strength to warn Julian of flanking movements from the rear stairwell.
"Two coming up from the service ladder!" Cassian called out.
Julian pivoted instantly, delivering a swift backhand strike with the heavy pommel of his sword that caught the nearest guard squarely on the helmet, dropping him instantly onto the stone floor. He stepped over the fallen guard, keeping the remaining attackers at bay with disciplined, measured strikes that prioritized defense and control over reckless aggression.
Down in the imperial box, panic had completely overtaken the ruling magistrates. Citizens in the lower tiers were standing on their stone benches, shouting angrily down at the officials and demanding answers about the missing grain reserves. The High Priestess stood frozen, realizing that her carefully constructed world of power and privilege was crumbling before her eyes in a matter of minutes.
The centurion regrouped his men, barking desperate orders to bypass Julian and seize the old man. Two agile guards dropped their heavy shields and scrambled along the outer wall, lunging directly toward Cassian.
Julian saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. Abandoning his defensive posture at the choke point, he lunged across the narrow walkway with breathtaking speed, intercepting the first guard mid-leap and slamming him against the stone balustrade with bone-crunching force. He caught the second guard by the collar of his leather tunic and hurled him back into the advancing phalanx, creating a chaotic tangle of falling bodies that blocked the corridor entirely.
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"We need to move, Cassian," Julian said, panting heavily as he offered a strong hand to help the elderly man up. "They'll bring archers next."
Cassian grabbed Julian’s forearm, pulling himself to his feet. "There is a maintenance crane used for rigging the festival banners," Cassian pointed toward a heavy wooden winch system bolted to the upper tier structure overlooking the arena floor. "It’s our only way down without facing the entire garrison."
