Duchess Dora threw a fireball spell at Griselda. It dissipated a yard away from her and Dora fell to her knees in agony from the magic backlash.

Griselda cackled, every inch of her looking like an evil maniac. “You can’t hurt me, Dora de Welk. I have protection against any magic.”

“Oh really?” Cat smiled his amusement, “like the person-sized snow storm that has followed you for the last several days?”

“You!” she snarled at Cat. “Guards, make sure you kill all of them!” She glared at my boy with unconcealed hate, backlit by the rosy twilight before the sun rises.

“I think not," Storm Eagle strolled into this war of words. He made a hand gesture and the ground erupted into a fluid mess around the queen and her guards. Every one of her men sank into the muddy ground halfway to their knees. Then the ground solidified, trapping them. The guard with the satchel leapt out of his boots and then ran to pick up someone's dropped rapier. He took a protective stance next to Queen Griselda.

“Your magic pendant will only protect you from direct magic attacks, Griselda Oster,” Storm Eagle glowered at her. “Indirect attacks can be just as deadly. Besides you only have about 40 soldiers to oppose our seven mages. Those are hardly favorable odds for you, my dear. Do the reasonable thing and take the offer of voluntary exile. It will be easier for you than the trial Prince Andray will hold otherwise.”

“I’m afraid, Stepmother, that your time as regent is now over,” Andray said with a mirthless smile.

“You can’t! You can’t! I challenge you on grounds of abandonment!” Griselda screeched.

“Sorry, you can’t do that, Stepmother,” Cat was the perfect picture of reasonable rebuttal, “because I’m not attempting to be regent.”

“What?” Griselda pulled out her dagger only to have it taken from her grip. The guard with the broken visor then grabbed the chain for the magic pendant and yanked it off the queen’s neck.

A rumbling bass came from the guard with the broken visor. He could be heard throughout the square even without an amplification spell. “I, Stephano, King of Nordweg, being of clear mind supported by my own strength, declare the regency of Griselda Oster, sometime Queen of Nordweg, to be over. I now order your arrest and confinement until your trial for attempted murder, murder, and accessory to murder.”

“You forgot treason, father,” Andray added pleasantly.

"Right," Stephano agreed, "and treason.”

“I think not!” Stephano’s bedroom attendant and Princess Aricia appeared out of nowhere. I felt the residual magic of a mage dropping an invisibility spell. He walked briskly into the space between the two opposing groups, one arm dragging Princess Aricia with him. With the other arm, he held a dagger to her throat.

What an oversight! The king's attendant was also a mage, one planted as a secret backup. I glanced at Cat to see how he reacted but he was missing from my line of sight.

“All of you will drop your arms, now,” he pressed the dagger against Aricia’s throat, causing a drop of blood to appear.

“You see, Aricia?” Griselda spoke in sugary tones, “this is what happens to people who cross me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” a shy frightened voice replied promptly.

"I'm so glad you understand," Griselda revealed the most frightening smile I have ever seen.

The secret mage focused on King Stephano and started the chant for the spell of Helle’s claws. The king began to choke. With so little magic left in me from putting out the fire, my only move was to pounce, which ran the risk of harming the Princess. Before I could do anything, the secret mage exhaled in surprise and then crumpled to the ground. Aricia ran away from the man and into the arms of Prince Willam, who hugged her tight.

The rapier blade hidden inside Cat’s walking stick protruded out of the secret mage’s chest. Then Cat appeared behind the crumpled body as he dropped his own invisibility spell. Then he stumbled, “someone? I think I’m going to faint.”

An extremely tall elf in a black cat mask sprinted to Cat's side. "I got you, Cat," Motley Owl caught my boy before his head hit the ground.

At the same time, Storm Eagle and Father Garshom approached the king and queen. “Σλιεπ,” Garshom pointed his finger at Griselda. He caught her as she collapsed and placed her flat on the paving stones of the square.

Straightening up, he glared at the queen’s soldiers, “if you are wise, you will throw your arms on the ground and surrender. Anyone who does not will be killed.”

“How does your throat feel?” Storm Eagle asked Stephano. “Is your breathing still difficult?”

Stephano coughed when he tried to speak and then got a hold of himself. In a raspy voice, he remarked “that hurt. What a terrible spell.” He took off the broken sallet and dropped it on the ground. He didn’t look like the energetic king I saw four years ago in Herman's Close. He was gaunt and his cheeks were sunken in. There was now a great deal of white in his red hair. He swayed a bit now that the worst was over. “I think I need to sit down before I fall over.”

“I suggest we take over the bishop's palace since it escaped the worst of the fire and its occupant is still in Gorgurak," Garshom said, watching the approach of a column of strangely-dressed soldiers. Duke Sven and Proud Elk were at their head. The soldiers wore black coats, orange pants, and white onion hats. There were at least 200 of them.

“Brother,” Sven ran up and hugged Stephano, “I’m so happy to see you.” He stepped back and studied the king, “you have lost too much weight, but we can fix that. How are you feeling?”

“Not so good,” Stephano grinned back at his brother. “I haven’t walked this far in years. I have no strength left.”

“Then let’s get you and the Crown Prince to where you can rest,” Sven decided. “Proud Elk and Uncle Valgard will take care of the Regent’s guard

“I have suggested the Bishop's Palace, just 200 yards away," Garshom took one of Stephano's arms and draped it across his shoulders, while he wrapped his other arm around the king's waist. Sven did the same on the other side. The four men started walking to the Bishop's Palace with Owl following, carrying the fainted Cat Rider in his long arms. I padded after them, listening in on their conversation.

“So, King Storm Eagle,” Stephano managed to say while he was half carried by his brother and Father Garshom, “why are you, your elves and Zimlakan soldiers inside my capital city?”

Storm Eagle laughed, “that’s a bit of a story, royal cousin. We thought we’d be taking the city in about 15 days from now but the explosion under the palace caught us before we were ready. It’s all because of your son, Prince Andray.”

“So tell me the truth,” Stephano insisted, “was that really my son Andray?”

“Isn’t he wonderful, brother?” Sven enthused. “He’s grown up to be a talented mage and healer. He’s even taken down two wyverns.”

“So that's really my son," Stephano said with awe. "So how is it that he has a left leg and a usable left arm? And by the demon king horns, why on earth does he talk like an elf?"