Once Benjamin agreed to escort them, Golden Port's nobles felt as though they had been dragged back to the mortal world from hell.
Overjoyed, they ran about spreading the news, their excitement beyond measure.
However, Benjamin's next words were like a basin of cold water, dousing more than half of their wild joy.
"I won't wait long for you. Prepare the carriages immediately. You may bring only the most essential, portable supplies.
"Leave everything else behind." Benjamin's voice was cold and decisive.
"Golden Port is in a special location. The Orcs will soon organize another attack. We must leave before the sun rises completely!"
At those words, the nobles who had been preparing to flee with their valuables, wishing they could pack up their entire homes, instantly turned ugly.
Yet Benjamin's displayed combat strength, along with the immense danger of the Orc army bearing down on them at any moment, left them not daring to disobey in the slightest.
Count Reinhardt was the first to come to his senses. Trembling, he acknowledged the order and immediately conveyed Benjamin's commands.
Under the pressure of survival, the nobles' efficiency was quite high.
Before long, beneath the shattered city gates, the nobles' carriage convoy formed into a bloated, winding serpent and slowly began moving in the morning light.
Count Reinhardt's pale face bore the exhaustion of one who had survived a calamity. Through the carriage curtains, he took one last look at the still-smoking port, his heart heavy.
Benjamin neither rode a horse nor entered a carriage. He simply walked at the very front of the procession.
His strides were steady, every step carrying a measured precision without a single unnecessary movement.
"Keep up! No falling behind!" He did not turn around, yet his voice carried clearly to every corner of the convoy,