Unable to find them—Ruler became convinced of this. God only favored those who actively made an effort. Searching blindly everywhere was merely a way of giving up on thinking.
With that in mind, she turned to look at the stronghold where the five Riders were. Perhaps asking them directly would be more productive.
At the very least, the Black faction had tried to recruit her. They probably would not immediately try to kill her without a word, like the Red faction.
It was an overly optimistic assumption, but she had to act at once. Thus, Ruler openly headed straight for the front of the stronghold.
The stronghold stood atop a high hill overlooking Trifas. Its hazy silhouette emerging in the night resembled an enormous cauldron from the hell of the dead. Though it possessed a grandeur entirely unsuited to a small city with a population of merely twenty thousand, the townspeople had no desire to turn it into a tourist attraction. Naturally, one reason was that the stronghold was private property rather than a public building... but more importantly, the townspeople had always feared it and kept their distance.
It was not merely cursed. This stronghold now ruled Trifas. That was roughly how the residents saw it, and in truth, they were correct.
Standing before the gate, Ruler looked up at the stronghold above—a rigid, utterly artless structure that was easy to defend and difficult to attack. Yet that was not its true defining feature.
She lightly touched the wall and immediately felt a numbness spread through her. It was likely powerful magecraft for interference and detection. Protected by countless layers of magical defensive barriers arranged around its perimeter, even a Servant would likely need tremendous destructive power to conquer this stronghold.
Ruler stood before the gate. Before she could