Silence washed over the pavilion, one born from shock and respect.

“But, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” Rats’s smirk turned lopsided. “Welcome to my party. I am Rats, and you are my guests, my minions,” He paused. “Or, you will be soon,”

“Minion? Me? HA,” Fatso said, breaking into a guffaw.

Instead of responding, Rats looked down for a moment. His eyes shimmered and shadows cast over his skin. In a fluid motion, he moved from his chair to the centre of the pavilion where the marble darkened and twisted into macabre figures. His boots snapped against the floor and the sound rolled through the open-air building.

“The Empire is fat like you,” he said while facing Fatso. He squinted his eyes, “Too much like you,”

Fatso glared at Rats, holding his tongue for the moment.

“Do you remember what I do to fat people? I dice them up and feed them to the plants,” He started laughing, a sleazy thing like his voice. “It’s ironic, eh? But it’s good: they make the flowers bloom brighter since they’re such good fuel. The Empire is fat, and the Houses have their eyes so high up their arses they’re blind to sense. But, break it down and let it act as feed, let it nurture us. The Empire must fall,”

A pause.

“The Empire must fall!” he repeated, his voice resonating across the pavilion.

Orion looked around in confusion. Was he using magic? If so, how come Orion couldn’t sense it?”

“The Empire must fall? Hmm, you see, Ratty, something just ain’t sitting right with me there,”

“It’s already began, Fatso. Open your eyes: the tribes to the west, who will stop them?”

“Of course, the Piros,”

“Then, who’s protecting the capital?”

“From what? It’s the bloody capital,”

“Monsters,” Madam Rischei finally spoke. Her voice was artificially pleasing as if someone was cooing too close into your ear.

Fatso’s mouth opened, then closed.

“Go on, say your lines,” Rats said, taunting his fellow Underking.

“Hmm, you’re scheming with monsters. I figured you were dumb, but not this dumb,” Fatso said.

“Tsch tsch,” Rats shook his finger while clicking his tongue. “You can’t skip a whole act like that,”

“Come clean already,” Madam Rischei said.

“Silence, whore. I’ve been talking with a man, a smart man. Someone I’m sure you two know,”

“Of course they’re involved.” Madam Rischei said. “No wonder you grew balls twice your size to do this,”

Rats ignored her interruption. “He put me in contact with a certain thing. It talked about the age of the Empire, how it lay on its deathbed despite not knowing. How the time had come for it to enter the grave, for someone greater to take its place,”

“And that’s you, I guess,”

“No, us. This is our chance to leave the shadows,”

“I’m not falling for some drugged-up illusion. Nor am I planning suicide anytime soon. But don’t worry, Ratty, I’ll glady take your place,” Fatso said.

“I’ll be taking names - I’ll see how far you can run afterwards. Besides, this isn’t my fantasy. It’s our reality,” Rats said while clapping his hands. From behind the willow trees strolled out a group of figures. Even from a distance, Orion could tell they weren’t human.

“So, are you with me? With us?”

Fatso turned to his hired Black Hearts. The leader shook his head with an easy expression, putting the larger man at ease. He waited till the monsters were close enough before speaking.

“You, is it your master who’s been organising attacks on my carriages? On my ships?”

A 10-foot shaggy giant answered. “Dunno. I don’t see why not, human.”

It was commonplace to see higher-tier monsters speaking the Empire’s tongue - it was a sign of civility. What made them bestial was their intolerance of each other, such as how Thunderfists couldn’t stand Cloudapes. It was something territorial or such, and yet, standing shoulder to… hips with the giant was a fleecy ape with smoky hair.

Rats had clearly set the group to impress and impress they did as eyebrows raised and mouths rounded among the humans.

“And how many of you are there?” Fatso asked, as intrigued as the crowd put together. A working monster population roused him in ways others couldn’t imagine. The growth he could make, the money he could make!

This time it was a flesh-less, hollow boned Lich that answered. “To attack this city? Thirty,”

If not for their bated breath, people would have gasped. Not due to shock but fear. Thirty higher-tier monsters in the city, all due to Rats. The maniac and his scheme, what could stop him?

“Ha HA HA. Ratty, you sick cunt. I’m in,” Fatso said with a maddened expression, his sanity lost to greed or maybe fear. As someone at the top of the chain, he understood the implications of the numbers better.

Rats smiled, a wide thing far more twisted than before. “What about you, Madam? Will you cast your dice for once?”

“No, Rats, I won’t be.”

The Underking of killers gnashed his teeth and stared at her. “I know the games you play, even more so Grima. You’ll wait till victory is assured to start sucking us off, won’t you? No point in taking risks when all you got to do is open your legs afterwards. Suit yourself, Madam, but don’t cast it your lot too late,” he said while wagging his finger, “after all, a replacement can easily be found,”

She didn’t reply, instead, she stood unimpressed. The monsters, while eye-opening, didn’t scare her, neither did the scarred, deranged man broiling at the mouth in front of her. She had also received the invitation from Yhaoli months before. At the time, she had thought it a sick joke that had found itself through her guards, into her room, and under her pillow. Now, she knew better.

Yhaoli was obviously using Rats as a tool, but knowing him, he would soon flip everything it wanted from the scarred man – she only knew too well. But, that was if they actually took over the city, which would be hard considering the Seekers and Imperial Guardsmen were already here; open legs spread a lot more than just disease and purse knots.