Fia rose up from her seat and locked John’s head under her arm. “But you won’t,” Fia teased, “Because you have something to lose.”

The knight easily slipped out of the headlock and huffed incredulously. “If that ‘something’ is my sanity, then yes,” he said.

“Hush, you didn’t even pull your punches. One more hit and I would have died.”

John raised an eyebrow and pointed towards one of the windows of the inner castle. It belonged to Fia’s room. There, a skull stood ominously behind the windowsill. “Believe me, I held back,” he said. “Otherwise, your skeleton majesty over there wouldn’t just be giving me death stares right now.”

Do not test me, charlatan, Sura snarled.

“Point taken,” Fia agreed. As she stared at John’s playful eyes, she felt that a part of her curiosity had been quenched. Behind his folly, he hid a murderous aura that surpassed rabid beasts. Truthfully, she could also feel that prying deeper into this contradictory duality was a line she could never cross.

John crossed his arms to make a grand pose and winked. “Are you finally captivated by my handsomeness?” he asked.

Fia frowned in a disgusted manner. “No,” she said. “I’m just curious how your parents managed to give birth to both you and Andrew.”

“To this day, my dear brother denies any relation with me,” he said sadly.

“Wow, I wonder why.”

“And I thought sarcasm was a sign of high intellect,” the knight muttered.

Fia shrugged. “That makes the two of us,” she said. “The meeting is in two hours. You can escort me there when I finish changing.”

“Back to the monkey dress?”

“Unfortunately.”

---

Erise seldom invited Fia to a meeting with her advisors. In her dark, elegant marble court, the incense candles allowed the Prophetess to barely recognize the closest aides to the future Queen of Tiw: John and Andrew, the commanders of the knight corps; Cephas, the prime minister; and Sal, the diplomat. Since this place was outside of Sura’s consciousness, Fia also had to bring the skull with her. The undead sat silently on a high, wooden stool, still furious about the events that occurred few hours ago.

Erise sat sleeping on the majestic throne, far away from the image of a noble ruler. Not only did her oversized crown cover her eyes, but she was also drooling on her left shoulder. Her regal clothes were expensive, but they did not inspire as much charisma as her black armor.

Despite this awkward scene, not one person seemed bothered. Andrew and John each gave short reports, while Cephas summarized key points regarding the commoners. When Sal finished reporting the news in each of the Six Kingdoms, Erise finally opened her eyes. As if nothing was remotely wrong, she yawned like an alcoholic who woke up from a thousand-year slumber.

Sura clicked his tongue. “And here we wonder why the Six Kings want to dethrone you,” he said.

“What's with the long look, Sura?” Erise asked.

“I was jesting, your highness. My face just happens to have difficulties portraying my emotions.”

“To be exact, you don’t have one,” John chirped in.

Erise raised her hand, demanding silence. “Cephas and Sal, the two of you may leave. Conduct meetings with the lower officials, and only bring the most important documents to me.”

The two men nodded and left, leaving just the five in the royal court.

Erise stretched, cracking several joints in her back. “Now, the main topic,” she said. “Fia, how much do you know about the coronation ceremony?”

“Only a little. I just know that I have to bless you and perform a miracle in front of the other Kings.”

Erise smiled again with the devilish look. “Well, that is all you have to do," she said. "However, my ceremony will take place on the battlefield, not the castle grounds.”

Fia froze. “I’m sorry, did I hear that right?” she asked.

Erise yawned again, seemingly nonchalant. “Two of the Six Kings are moving their armies--they want to replace me with a puppet. I killed my fiance, so they claim that I have stolen the crown.”

“...Can you win? I thought all of the mages have left you.”

“Of course,” the Queen said slyily. “Who do you think I am?”

Fia noticed that Erise’s gaze changed. The drowsiness vanished, and a strange aura possessed her eyes. It was not like John’s fiery anger or Sura’s chill tranquility. It was joy: she was excited about the incoming war. Delirium had seized her bloodthirst; the monster had no expectations for an answer. It only wanted to fight.

“My name is Erise de la Sangria,” Erise said. “I drink blood like I do wine.”