Solomon grabbed his greatsword from the doorframe. Before he could offer a plan, the wooden rafters above them groaned loudly.
Dust rained down onto the barricaded beds. The attackers in the hallway had realized the doorway was a fatal chokepoint and scaled the exterior walls of the pavilion instead.
Clay roof tiles shattered inward. A dozen masked figures dropped through the ruined ceiling, landing gracefully among the scattered debris.
These assassins carried a much different presence than the earlier grunts. Instead of drawing curved sabers, they held glowing paper talismans between their fingers. One attacker muttered a quick incantation and tossed a yellow seal toward the barricade.
The paper ignited mid-air, transforming into a roaring fireball that shot straight toward Arthur.
Solomon grabbed a broken oak plank from the barricade and hurled it upward to intercept the spell. The wood absorbed the blast, showering the room in harmless embers.
