The Red Swords, four of them, cane down in uniform order.
Two on each side.
And then from within, dressed in all red, with that blue energy knife sticking through her neck—left to right—came a woman.
She was tall—taller than Soren had seen women in his life, except Cynthia of course. He estimated around 6 feet.
She had dark skin. Head shaved. Blue eyes. But even through her flowing robes, it was clear that she was endowed.
Her steps felt calculated. The Red Swords moved behind her, stopping the moment she did.
She did not even look at the captain who had given a polite bow.
But it was not just him. Other soulbound knights gave a bow.
A bow?
Soren thought to himself.
After all, it was not as if he had not seen a Sister of truth before.
Back at the prison.
But that one did not have people bowing at her.
The woman gave no mind to no one. Her eyes were fixed on Soren.
Like a tiger fixated on a certain prey in a flock of birds.
