I love castles.
Not the politics. Not the banners. Not the brooding silhouettes against the sky.
The bones.
The beams.
The hidden weight distribution.
The way old stone carries tension like it remembers every footstep.
Dillaclor's castle is very proud of itself.
Which makes this even more fun.
I crouch in the shadow of the eastern parapet, screwdriver between my teeth, hair pinned back badly because subtlety is not my strong suit.
Below me, two guards rotate.
Poorly.
Their timing is off by four seconds.
Four seconds is generous.
I slide the last disc into place along the inner archway seam.
The nullifier hums once — a soft vibration that settles into the stone like a held breath.
Sound doesn't disappear.
It folds.
Neat. Contained. Mine.
I tap the second disc.
And the third.
Good.
We are officially screaming-proof.
Nux won't hear a thing.
I grin.
"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Let's not overdo it."
I immediately overdo it.
The first corridor goes beautifully.
Three guards.
Two down before they register motion.
The third swings late — wide stance, predictable shoulder rotation.
I duck, pivot, crack the base of his helmet with the reinforced edge of my bracer.
He collapses.
"Oop — sorry! That one's on you! That was textbook telegraphing!"
I pause.
Wait.
Listen.
Nothing.
The nullifiers hold the corridor in a padded hush. Even the metal strike sounds like it happened underwater.
I clap once experimentally.
The sound dies three feet from my hands.
Perfect.
"Oh this is delightful," I breathe.
I pull a small canister from my belt and roll it down the adjacent stairwell.
Three seconds.
Two.
One—
It bursts in a contained flash of white magnesium light.
Muffled.
Contained.
I drop down after it, boots hitting stone.
A guard stumbles blind into me.
I sweep his legs.
He goes down hard.
"Sorry! Sorry! Temporary retinal burn only! Probably!"
He groans.
Good. Groaning is alive.
I drag him out of the main path and wedge him behind a tapestry depicting some very serious ancestor who clearly never had any fun at all.
"Don't take this personally," I tell the tapestry.
I move.
Fast.
The western hall has better construction.
Load-bearing arches.
Hidden crossbow slits.
I admire that.
I also disable it.
I fire a grappling hook into the ceiling beam and swing up just as two bolts whistle beneath me.
"Ah-ah!" I sing. "Wrong angle!"
I twist midair, kick off the opposite wall, and land behind them.
One elbow.
One knee.
One clean strike.
Down.
I wince as one of them hits the floor harder than intended.
"Oh — that sounded worse than it was! I think! You're fine. Probably fine."
I crouch, check his pulse.
Strong.
Good.
I pat his helmet once and move on.
The throne antechamber doors are reinforced oak with iron ribbing.
Very dramatic.
Very loud when opened.
Unless—
I stick two nullifier strips along the hinge pins and press.
The vibration dampens instantly.
I push the doors wide.
They open like a secret.
I love when engineering behaves.
Inside, four royal guards.
Elite.
Posture immaculate.
Symmetry perfect.
That makes me laugh.
"Hi," I say brightly.
They charge in formation.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
The first swings high — I duck and hook my foot behind his ankle, using his momentum to slam him into the second.
They crash together.
I vault over them as the third thrusts forward.
I catch the spear shaft, twist, snap it against my knee.
"Sorry! Spear design flaw! You need a stronger grain alignment!"
The fourth almost gets me.
Almost.
Blade skims my sleeve.
Too close.
I grin wider.
"Yes. Good. That's better."
We trade three clean exchanges.
He's disciplined.
Efficient.
I like him.
I disarm him with a wrist lock and flip him over my shoulder.
He lands flat.
Air rushes from his lungs in a muted burst.
I crouch beside him.
"That was excellent footwork. Truly. Five out of five."
He glares at me.
I beam back.
Then I pop a small pulse-charge at the base of the wall column.
Not explosive.
Resonant.
It travels through the stone and knocks the breath out of everyone still trying to rise.
They collapse again.
Non-lethal shockwave.
I stand in the center of the chamber, chest rising, heart racing.
This is what I'm good at.
Motion.
Improvisation.
Precision chaos.
No screaming echoes.
No alarms.
Just the soft hum of my nullifiers swallowing consequence.
It's almost unfair.
I step toward the inner hall.
Toward him.
I know he's somewhere above.
Watching the city.
Counting deviations.
Blinking exactly once per bell.
He has no idea I'm here.
That thought thrills me more than it should.
I pause at the foot of the spiral staircase.
Four more guards descend.
They hesitate when they see the bodies behind me.
"Hi!" I chirp.
They don't respond.
Rude.
They advance carefully.
Better.
The first attempts a shield rush.
I pivot aside and shove him into the banister.
The second draws a dagger instead of engaging head-on.
Smart.
I approve.
He lunges.
I twist under his arm and hook my elbow against his throat, applying just enough pressure to drop him without crushing the airway.
"Sorry. Sorry. That one was elegant though."
The third and fourth flank.
I backstep deliberately.
Let them think I'm retreating.
They close the gap.
I trigger the wire I set on the second stair.
It snaps tight at shin height.
They both tumble forward.
I leap over them and land lightly.
"Please reconsider your spacing!" I call helpfully.
One of them actually growls.
That makes me laugh.
I disable them quickly.
No flourish.
Just clean impact.
I am not cruel.
I am efficient.
Mostly.
Halfway up the stairs, I slow.
Not because I'm tired.
Because I'm thinking.
This is easy.
Too easy.
He should have escalated by now.
Unless—
Unless he's letting it happen.
Unless this is data.
The thought prickles.
I don't like being data.
I plant one more nullifier disc against the inner wall.
Insurance.
If he steps out and decides to monologue, I'd prefer it contained.
I climb.
Each step measured.
Each breath light.
At the top, the corridor opens toward the observation chamber.
The doors are already ajar.
Of course they are.
I step through.
Sunlight cuts across polished stone.
The city sprawls below.
And there he stands.
Hands behind his back.
Still.
Perfect.
He doesn't turn immediately.
"Your path was inefficient," he says calmly.
My grin widens.
"Oh good. You noticed."
He turns then.
Eyes steady.
Unblinking.
He scans me.
Catalogues damage.
Counts variables.
"Fourteen guards incapacitated," he observes.
"Fifteen," I correct cheerfully. "One in the tapestry hall. He slid."
A beat.
Silence.
The nullifiers hum faintly in the walls.
No alarm bells.
No shouting.
No chaos reaching the city.
Just us.
"I do hope you appreciate the soundproofing," I add. "I worked very hard on it."
His gaze shifts slightly.
He senses it.
The dampened air.
The contained acoustics.
"Interesting," he murmurs.
I rock back on my heels.
"Right? I thought so too."
He studies me longer.
"You are not disciplined."
"Nope."
"You are not contained."
"Absolutely not."
"And yet," he says softly, "you are precise."
I tilt my head.
"That's the fun part."
For a moment, neither of us moves.
The castle around us — quiet.
The city below — unaware.
He folds his hands more tightly behind his back.
Flat.
Correct.
I bounce once on my heels.
Alive.
And I grin at him like this is all a game.
Because for me?
It still is.
And that might be the most dangerous thing in this entire castle.