The staircase was wide enough for six men across at the top. It narrowed to four by the second landing.
King felt the column compress behind him as the descent began, the weight of the entire Belfort force pressing forward in a single, organized line. Jean-Louis was two paces to his right, sword drawn, his eyes already reading the terrain below. The smoke from the lower tiers was thicker here, rising in slow, dark columns that obscured the mid-level passages.
Eli's minds eye opened, pulling live data from the eagle overhead. The tactical map updated in real time as the spirit construct swept low over the lower city, feeding coordinates back up the link.
The first contact came at the third landing.
A cluster of orc infantry had stacked against the inner wall of the staircase below, using the narrow turn as a defensive position. Their iron shields were locked together in a crude but functional wall, their cleavers raised above the rim.
