Exiting the oppressive inner hall, they followed the stone steps and corridors as the path wound slowly upward with the mountain’s slope. They passed through another tall archway, solemnly guarded by the Peric Clan’s Heavy Armor Guards, and the view suddenly opened up before them.

Beyond the archway lay a meticulously maintained open-air courtyard, set high within the fortress.

Twilight was falling, and the last sliver of crimson still clung to the horizon.

Several tall, stone braziers had already been lit in the courtyard. Oil-soaked pinewood burned within them, their leaping, orange-red flames driving back the deepening night and clearly illuminating the scene.

This place was utterly different from the other parts of the fortress they had just passed through, or even seen from afar.

The ground was not rammed earth or rough-hewn stone. Instead, it was paved with dark river pebbles from some distant shore, polished relatively smooth and laid close together, gleaming with a damp luster in the firelight.

Most surprisingly, the pebble path was lined with flowerbeds bordered by low stone curbs.

The soil within was a dark black, clearly well-tended.

Clusters of thistles stood tall, their leaves thick, dark green, and thorny at the edges.

Though past their season, irises with sword-like leaves stood tall and sturdy.

In a shaded corner against the wall, there were even a few bushes of gray-green rosemary and thyme, releasing their crisp, invigorating scent on the night breeze.

It masked the persistent stench of sulfur and rust that drifted in on the wind from afar.

On one side of the courtyard, a small stone fountain had been built against the high wall of the Inner Castle.

The spout, surprisingly, was fed by fresh, running water. The clear stream trickled without end, falling into the stone basin below with a faint, pleasant tinkling. In this crude military fortress, the sound was jarringly out of place, yet it strangely managed to soothe some of the grimness.

The Peric Knight who led them stopped before two detached, two-story stone houses.

These two stone houses were clearly far more refined than the low-slung barracks and warehouses of the lower sections.

The stones of the walls were cut square and sealed with mortar. The long, narrow windows were fitted with panes of remarkably clear glass—a rare luxury in a border fortress.

A short flight of stone steps led up to each door, flanked by two earthenware urns containing trimmed shrubs.

"Your Excellency, the Governor of Melfield, Her Highness Elizabeth," the Knight said, turning to the side and placing his right hand over his chest. "These two adjacent stone houses have been prepared as your quarters. They are a far cry from the comforts of the Royal Capital or your manors, but we have made the best arrangements we could."

Having spoken, the Knight retreated into the shadows at the courtyard entrance, seeming to melt into the night.

Murphy’s gaze swept over the stone houses, the flowerbeds, and the ceaselessly trickling fountain. His expression betrayed no surprise as he reached out and pushed open the door to his room.

Elizabeth, however, remained where she was. She did not immediately step onto the pebble path leading to her own stone house.

She surveyed the quiet, clean, almost elegant courtyard. Her gaze slid from the meticulously tended thistles and irises to the lustrous pebbles at her feet. It was as if her sight could pierce the thick stone walls and the mountain itself, to hear the distant, thunderous clamor and the faint, ghostly wails rising from the Lower District far below.

An overwhelming sense of disconnect gripped her.

In the Royal Capital, amidst its splendid palaces and gardens, she had long grown accustomed to clear hierarchies and the stark differences between the environments of various districts.

But those differences were more a matter of architectural style and decorative luxury—a manifestation of class built upon order and the way things were meant to be.

Never before had she felt it so closely, so abruptly—that a single line was all that separated a sanctuary from Hell.

It was as if the tranquility, greenery, and clean air here formed an invisible wall, completely sealing off the crowded, filthy, pain-filled, and numb struggles of the lower levels.

"This place..." Elizabeth began instinctively, her voice a little hoarse. A hint of confusion and unease showed in her dark eyes. "It’s... completely different from the outside. I... I’ve never felt anything like this."

Her words were halting, as if she didn’t know how to accurately describe the churning, absurd feeling in her heart.

She wasn’t questioning the logic of the arrangement. Rather, the psychological shock of the contrast felt alien, even suffocating.

Murphy paused, his hand on the door.

He turned. His calm gaze fell upon Elizabeth’s slightly pale face, then swept over the courtyard plants, which looked especially verdant in the firelight.

"Because you are now truly standing on the line, Your Highness." His voice was low and, as always, steady, yet it carried clearly to Elizabeth’s ears. "Back in the Royal Capital, the so-called differences were between the court and the marketplace, the castle and the manor. Though there were high and low, they all existed within a single, relatively complete and orderly system. In a way, they all shared the same sun and rain."

He paused for a moment, as if to give Elizabeth time to understand.

"But here, this wall separates more than just comfort and hardship. It separates the odds of life and death. It is the chasm between order and chaos. Those spaces outside are storage for the consumables of war—the flesh and blood that can be used to plug a gap in the front lines at any moment. But here..."

"Here is for the decision-makers, the core fighting force, and important symbols..."

He glanced at Elizabeth. "...a place to catch their breath, to think, and to maintain the necessary decorum. The very purpose of its cleanliness, tranquility, and greenery is to ensure that the people inside are not utterly consumed by the despair outside, so they can remain calm enough to keep making the decisions that may very well send more people to Hell."