The bustling town of Eldermire was alive with vibrant chatter and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from nearby market stalls. Layla walked with purpose down the cobbled streets, her cloak pulled tightly around her. Despite the anonymity the cloak provided, her regal bearing still turned a few curious heads. Raziel followed closely behind, his sharp gaze sweeping the streets for any sign of trouble.

"Are you sure about this? We could've sent someone else to fetch the gowns. There is no need for you to take such a big risk yourself."

Raziel asked, his voice low.

Layla shook her head.

"I want to choose for myself. If we're making a statement, it needs to be deliberate."

Royal bowl was not like any other occasion that could be snubbed. It was a place where one needed to do their best to stand out.

Naturally, Layla was no different in her desire to prove herself.

They weaved through the crowd, approaching Eldermire's central plaza. Layla's steps slowed as her eyes drifted to the edge of the square, where charred stone and scorched earth still bore the scars of the previous attack.

"Raziel, how did the investigation go"

She said quietly, her expression thoughtful.

Raziel's jaw tightened.

"Poorly."

He gestured subtly toward the scorched area.

"Whoever orchestrated the attack was meticulous. We found no magical residue, no identifiable traces—just a dead end."

Layla nodded thoughtfully, her face unreadable. "Expected. They wouldn't have acted so boldly without a failsafe."

Layla met his determined gaze, her lips curving faintly. She had expected this to happen, so she was not too worried. She had a plan in motion to drag out the people who caused this mess and make them pay for it.

Before they could continue toward the dressmaker's boutique, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the air.

"You there! Halt!"

Layla turned slowly as a town guard approached, his armor polished but worn, his expression hard with suspicion. Two other guards flanked him, hands resting on the hilts of their swords.

"State your name and business. I have a feeling about you two and that you are connected with this case."

The lead guard ordered, his eyes narrowing. He seemed to have good intuitions to stop Layla and question her regarding this case.

Layla raised a brow but kept her voice calm.

"Is there a reason I'm being stopped?"

"You're unfamiliar, and this town doesn't take kindly to strangers skulking around."

Raziel tensed, ready to intervene, but Layla rested a hand on his arm, keeping him still.

"I'm not obligated to explain myself to you,"

she replied coolly.

The guard's expression darkened.

"Refuse to answer, and I'll arrest you for suspicious behavior."

Layla's eyes flashed with icy resolve.

"You assume much for someone so poorly informed."

The guard scowled, clearly unused to defiance.

"Give me your name and title—now."

"I don't answer to you. After all, there is no law that states that I need to cooperate with you and your investigation."

Layla said evenly. She could have made things easier on her by telling this man her name and title and being left alone, but she was stubborn at times.

The man's patience snapped. With a growl, he lunged, hand outstretched to grab her arm—but Raziel was faster. In a fluid motion, he intercepted the guard, twisting his wrist and forcing the man to his knees.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the gathering crowd as onlookers stopped to stare.

"Touch her again, and you'll lose that hand. My lady is not someone like you can easily touch."

Raziel hissed, his voice deadly quiet.

The other guards drew their weapons, shouting commands. Raziel didn't flinch, his expression cold and unwavering. Layla stepped forward, her voice ringing out like steel.

"Enough."

Her tone carried such authority that even the hostile guards hesitated.

"Let him go, Raziel."

Reluctantly, Raziel released the guard, who stumbled back, seething with rage and humiliation.

"Who do you think you are? You'll regret this,"

The lead guard spat, nursing his injured wrist.

Layla met his gaze, her eyes burning with quiet power.

"I'm someone you were not prepared for."

Before the guards could respond, a commanding voice echoed through the plaza.

"Stand down!"

The townsfolk parted as an older, imposing man in a captain's uniform strode forward, his face lined with years of experience. He surveyed the tense scene with a sharp, calculating gaze.

"Captain Orlan," the lead guard stammered. "These strangers—"

"I saw everything," Captain Orlan interrupted. "You overstepped."

The guards stiffened but obeyed as Orlan turned toward Layla, bowing slightly.

"My apologies for my men's behavior. Tensions have been high since the recent attacks."

Layla inclined her head, accepting the apology without softening her stance.

"See that it doesn't happen again,"

Layla said, her voice cool but commanding.

Orlan straightened.

"You have my word."

Without another word, Layla and Raziel turned and walked away, leaving behind a stunned and subdued crowd.

As they approached the dressmaker's boutique, Raziel finally broke the silence.

"You didn't have to hold back."

Layla smirked faintly.

"If I let you break every guard who insulted me, we'd be fighting a war by now."

Raziel's lips twitched in reluctant amusement.

"Point taken."

As they stepped into the boutique, Layla's mind lingered on the encounter. The guard's aggression had been more than just a power trip—it felt deliberate, almost like a test.

Her enemies were still watching. And she intended to be ready when they struck again.

"By the way, my lady. What do we do with the fool who decided to follow us? We gave him a warning, but he decided not to take it. Should I take care of him now?"

Raziel asked as he pointed toward the man following behind them. The man was not even trying to hide that he was following Layla and Raziel. He was fast, and he kept up with the pair quite easily.

But he did not have enough skills to be able to hide from them properly and could be easily seen from where the pair walked.