"Fucking hell. I can't catch a break!" Jamie muttered, rising swiftly from his chair.

He darted towards the staircase leading to the first floor. Thomas and Holz were behind him, their expressions mirroring his confusion and concern.

"Where did that explosion come from?" Jamie demanded as he reached the bottom of the stairs. His sharp gaze fell upon Elize and Bertram, who stood in the foyer, their faces pale and eyes wide with shock.

"Outside!" Elize exclaimed, her arm outstretched as she pointed emphatically towards the main entrance.

Without hesitation, Jamie was the first to reach the door. Before he grasped the handle, wisps of smoke curled beneath it, seeping into the room and carrying the acrid scent of burning with them. The muffled sounds of a heated confrontation seeped through the thick timber.

He threw the door open, and the clamor from outside surged in, engulfing them in chaos.

"Let me go! You... you... tin man!" a high-pitched, indignant voice rang out.

"Seize her! She's a thief!" bellowed a deep, authoritative voice.

"I'm not a thief!" the voice protested vehemently.

"Then where did you get this?" demanded one of the armored figures.

"I built it!"

Jamie stepped onto the threshold, and the scene unfolded before him. The cobblestone street was shrouded in a thin veil of smoke, remnants of an explosion that had left scorch marks on the nearby walls. Amidst the swirling haze stood four imposing knights. Each held a longsword at their side and bore a shield emblazoned with the symbol of a sword crossed over a balanced scale.

"How dare you lie!" one of the knights roared. With a swift, forceful motion, he swung his armored arm, sending a small figure hurtling through the air. She tumbled across the ground, coming to rest at Jamie's feet.

Jamie looked down to see Emyr. Her usually bright and inquisitive eyes were clouded with pain, and a fresh bruise was already blossoming on her cheek. A trickle of blood traced a path from her split lip, stark against the pallor of her skin. Her wild, tangled, coppery hair was singed at the edges, and her goggles sat atop her head.

"Emyr," Jamie breathed, his heart clenching at the sight. 'You don't mess with what's mine.'

He clenched his jaw, and without a second thought, Jamie stepped forward, positioning himself protectively between Emyr and the advancing knight. The knight loomed over them, his visor obscuring his features, but the menace in his stance was unmistakable.

"Stand aside," the knight commanded, his voice echoing hollowly from within his helmet. "This thief is to be taken into custody."

"You are in my territory. If something has happened to one of my subordinates, you should have addressed it with me," Jamie declared, his voice cold and sharp like tempered steel.

The knight before him towered at least a foot taller, his armor adding to his imposing stature. But Jamie did not waver. The bard held his ground firmly, his piercing gaze locked onto the shadowed eyes behind the knight's helm.

"And who might you be?" the knight retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. His fellow knights, who had thus far remained idle, shifted subtly, their interest piqued by the escalating tension.

Jamie arched an eyebrow, his expression a mix of annoyance and authority. "Are you deaf, or does your helmet muffle your hearing? I am the master of this territory, the leader of the very girl you have just injured," he replied, his words measured and laced with simmering anger. He took a deliberate step forward, the distance between them shrinking.

"Are you mad? Is this city filled only with barbarians?" the knight scoffed incredulously. "She is a gnome, a race of thieves and vagabonds. It would be a blessing of justice to cleanse the world of every last one of them."

The knight's contemptuous words hung in the air, igniting a spark of fury within Jamie. The crowd that had begun to gather around them watched with bated breath, whispers spreading like wildfire among the onlookers.

Rather than retreat, the knight rested a gauntleted hand on the hilt of his sword, a clear and deliberate threat. The gesture served as a signal, and a hush fell over the street as tension escalated.

Thomas and Holz moved to Jamie's side. Thomas's hand hovered near the pommel of his blade, eyes narrowed and calculating. Holz gripped his sturdy wooden staff with both hands; muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. From the tavern doorway, Bertram stepped forward, his large shield raised and ready.

Initially caught off guard by the swift response, the remaining knights began to spread out, their armored boots clanging against the cobblestones. They maneuvered to encircle Jamie and his companions, pushing back the crowd of onlookers to create a makeshift arena.

"Are you certain you wish to pursue this course of action?" Jamie pressed, his voice calm but edged with a steely warning. "You may have better armor, but you will not leave here without suffering casualties, two or three of your comrades, at the very least."

A dangerous light flickered in the knight's eyes. "It would be a glorious death," he proclaimed passionately. "We shall rid the world of filth and the traitorous scum who defend them."

'They're insane,' Jamie thought, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. The knights were zealots, blinded by their fervor. Negotiation seemed futile. His fingers brushed the hilts of the twin daggers sheathed at his sides.

"Who in the blazes do you think you are, laying hands on one of ours?" Aldwin shouted angrily as he returned from his patrol. His eyes blazed with fury, and his short sword gleamed menacingly in his grip. He stood defiantly before one of the knights blocking his path, refusing to let him pass.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"We are the Order of Velkaris! We are the law of the gods!" the knight proclaimed proudly.

"Then take your so-called order and shove it up your arse! Now get out of my way!" Aldwin retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, knuckles whitening as he barely restrained himself from striking.

"Aldwin, I'm trying to defuse the situation, not escalate it!" Jamie called out sharply to the young man. His gaze was stern, but beneath it lay a hint of urgency.

"Sorry, boss," Aldwin muttered through gritted teeth, though his eyes never left the knight before him. He was like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment.

"Stand down and leave this place," Jamie addressed the knights, his tone firm but diplomatic. "We'll forget that you harmed one of ours without proof."

"We have proof. Our word. Didn't you hear, bard? We are the law," the knight before him declared with arrogant pride. His fellow knights began to close ranks behind him, their armor clinking ominously.

"So..." Jamie began, searching for another solution but finding none. His mind raced, calculating the odds.

"So?" the knight prompted, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"So, fuck you," Jamie snapped, his patience exhausted. His fingers moved subtly, weaving the final gestures of his spell.

[Cacophonous Call]

Without warning, a burst of sound erupted around the knight. The spell crashed into him like a tidal wave of noise. The knight staggered, clutching at his ears as agonizing pain overwhelmed his senses. He fell to his knees, his helmeted head bowed as he screamed in torment.

That was all the impetus needed. The remaining knights drew their swords with steely whispers of metal, their eyes narrowing behind visored helms. Members of the Golden Fiddle Company sprang into action. Each one moved with practiced precision, weapons drawn and stances ready.

The air was charged with tension as steel met steel. The street became a battleground, echoing with the clash of weapons and the shouts of combatants. Shopkeepers hastily pulled shutters closed, and bystanders scattered to safety, peering cautiously from alleys and doorways.

Hand-to-hand combat was the specialty of the Golden Fiddle. Their experiences and hard-earned levels placed them among the most formidable mercenary groups in the land. Yet, facing the fervor and discipline of the templar knights was a daunting challenge.

Bertram swung his hammer towards a knight, but the blow was deftly parried. The knight countered swiftly, landing a strike that sent Bertram reeling backward.

Aldwin weaved through the fray, his short sword a blur as he engaged another knight. Despite his agility, the knight's longer reach and heavier blade began to overpower him. A crushing blow caught Aldwin's shoulder, and he stumbled, pain searing through him.

Holz wielded his bat with skill, deflecting strikes and searching for openings. But the knight he faced was relentless, pressing forward with unwavering determination. A swift kick from the knight caught Holz off-guard, knocking him to the ground.

"Damn it," Jamie muttered under his breath as he narrowly avoided from one of the knights. The knight he had felled moments before was already recovering, shaking off the lingering effects of the spell. With most of his team incapacitated, the situation was dire.

Thomas was sent hurtling past Jamie, his attempt to block the attack proving futile as the force propelled him through the air. He crashed into one of the already ruined houses, the brittle structure giving way upon impact. Debris and dust erupted into the air as the walls crumbled around him.

Jamie glanced around urgently, his heart pounding. The realization settled in; he was alone. His companions were either incapacitated or out of reach. "It just keeps getting better," he muttered wryly, a sardonic edge to his thoughts.

"Men! Men!" A powerful voice rose above the sounds of the street.

The roar cut through the chaos like a blade, commanding immediate attention. The knights, who moments before had been readying their next assault on Jamie, froze in place.

"What lack of respect you show to those who host us," the voice admonished, echoing with authority.

Jamie turned, scanning the crowd for the source of the commanding tone. His gaze darted between the bewildered spectators, but the speaker remained elusive.

Before he could react, Jamie sensed a presence directly before him. He whipped his head back around, only to find the sharp point of a sword mere inches from his face. The blade glinted dangerously, reflecting the dim light of smoldering fires nearby.

"You as well," a cold voice warned from behind the blade. "It would be wise to lay down your weapons."

Jamie looked up to see a tall man standing before him, a figure even more imposing than the knights he commanded. The man had long, raven-black hair cascading over his shoulders, framing a face etched with stern lines and piercing eyes that bore into Jamie's own. Like the other knights, he was clad head to toe in gleaming plate armor adorned with the emblem of a sword plunged into a balance scale. A long crimson cape draped from his shoulders, billowing slightly in the breeze and adding to his formidable presence.

"An Inquisitor?" Someone in the crow questioned.

"Not just an Inquisitor," Another whispered fearfully from the crowd. "It's THE Inquisitor."

"You're talking about the Scourge?"

"Yes. We'd better get out of here,"

Fragments of hushed conversations rippled through the onlookers. Jamie could feel the collective unease rising, the fear palpable.

"Let us forget that this happened," the Inquisitor proclaimed, his voice dripping with icy indifference. He glanced disdainfully at Emyr, who was held by one of the knights. "Release that pest. She is but a small fish compared to what we seek."

Reluctantly, the knight obeyed, shoving Emyr forcefully toward the ground. She stumbled and fell hard, a pained grunt escaping her lips as she tried to steady herself.

Anger flared within Jamie as he watched them.

The Inquisitor's command resonated with his men. The knights straightened, adjusting their stances. They sheathed their swords and began to step back, the metallic clink of their armor echoing in the sudden silence. Dust swirled around them as they moved, the townsfolk parting quickly to allow them passage.

Before turning to leave, the Inquisitor fixed Jamie with a penetrating gaze. A cruel smile curled his lips, a chilling expression that sent a shiver down Jamie's spine.

"I will return, bard," the Inquisitor promised.

"Hell," Jamie muttered under his breath as he watched the Inquisitor walk away. He had faced formidable foes, relying on his wit, talent, and strategic acumen to overcome them. But this was different. This adversary was beyond anything he'd encountered. 'He has way too much raw power.'

Frustration and self-reproach gnawed at him. 'If only I had prepared better. Trained more. Grown stronger.' The thoughts swirled in his mind, each a sting to his pride.

He moved quickly to Aldwin, who struggled to rise amidst the rubble. Blood trickled from a cut above Aldwin's brow, and his breathing was labored.

"Let me help you," Jamie offered, extending a hand.

Aldwin grasped it gratefully, his grip firm despite his injuries. "Thanks," he mumbled. "That... didn't go as planned."

"No, it didn't," Jamie agreed, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "But we'll regroup."

One by one, the mercenaries of the Golden Fiddle Company gathered themselves as they limped back toward the sanctuary of their tavern.

Jamie lingered at the threshold, casting a long glance back into the streets.

'He will return?' Jamie thought, his jaw tightening. 'I'll be ready.'

[Connection restored]

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