Felipe stood at the mouth of his Dragon Palace, looking over his city. A multitude of golden-armored knights gathered around him, like gilding to his own black armor. His long, black hair flowed down his back like a cloak, a patch of gray atop his head. His beard showed yet more gray hair… yet his stony eyes were alert, sharp, unburdened by the ravages of age.

Myriad voices bubbled around him. People pushed past his knights, offering letters or speaking reports… some diplomat had been exposed for accepting bribes, some noble secretly harbored rebellious ambitions, the replacement steward was working for House Parbon… and back within the palace, Felipe heard distant screaming.

“Jezuit,” Felipe said loudly.

“Your Majesty,” a knight at his side answered, bowing his head in deference. His golden helm bore a dragon crest just above its visor—a recognizable symbol of authority that marked him as the knight commander.

Felipe reached to his side and drew his blade. “Choose your best men—fifty, as many spellcasters as you can. Form around me. Push aside any who approach; diplomats, nobility, it doesn’t matter. The rest… send them to quell the chaos.”

“Of course, your majesty,” the knight responded at once. “Yet if I may offer counsel, we must screen—”

“The name of the Bat inspires near as much fear as mine. All of this… death throes. It is a sign Levin has not disappointed. I have to be there, personally—I cannot leave this task to another to muck it up. And Jezuit…” Felipe turned his gaze down, finally, looking upon the knight-commander. “Do not forget I served as knight-commander beneath my father before you took the position. My orders are absolute, and not to be questioned unduly.”

The knight-commander pounded his fist against his breastplate and lowered his head. “Your Majesty. At once,” he said, voice betraying no offense.

Jezuit went off, barking orders. The royal knights, though tightly packed, rearranged themselves as efficiently as a well-oiled machine. Only one remained near Felipe’s side—a small man, bearing a helmet that was far too large for his head. He held it up to the king.

Felipe took the helm and put it over his head. His helm was made in the image of a cobra. Though its base was a functional great helm, black metal concealed the hard steel beneath it, and a cobra’s face seemed to supplant his own. Its mouth seemed designed in imitation of a demon’s, though, for it possessed far too many teeth and an aspect of terror beyond that of a mere snake.

Before a minute could pass, a guard of the best of the royal knights surrounded Felipe, and Jezuit bowed to inform the king. Just then… a great fire roared to life in the furthest point of the city walls. Felipe adjusted his helmet to block its light.

“The Bat squirms beneath my boot. March!” Felipe shouted, voice echoing.

#####

“If I’d known we’d use these, I might’ve watered them less,” commented Argrave, watching as people quickly ran, carrying drenched bundles of plants. These had been used not an hour ago to suppress their party from advancing into the catacombs. Time had dried them somewhat, fortunately.

“It’ll require more fire, but it’s completely manageable,” Elenore said calmly. “Barring Vasquer, these herbs are the best thing we’ve got to get out of this. I know the royal guard’s enchantments well—I had them studied before. Their enchantments certainly don’t account for poison like this. But then again… neither can my men resist them. It’s a double-edged sword. All we have is the benefit of holding that sword.”

Argrave nodded, feeling nervous. He wasn’t sure if everybody could make it out of this situation unharmed… and he wasn’t simply speaking of Elenore’s men. Galamon took on much risk.

“He’s entered the central square,” Anneliese reported, monitoring Felipe.

“Central square…” Elenore grasped her chin. “Five more minutes, perhaps.” Elenore turned her head to Argrave, expression dire. “Your pets. Your companion. There’ll be no issue placing them in such…?”

“Took me eight hours to catch these Brumesingers,” Argrave said, reaching into his pocket where he knew one was. He grabbed its neck, holding it up. Its fur was all but black by this point, matching well with his own appearance. “And that was knowing exactly what I fought against. Our foes will fight warriors of mist pointlessly, expending themselves. These guys have gorged on souls for months—time to put all that accumulation to good use. As for Galamon… he’s survived the worst of everything. He’ll be able to do his part.”

“We’re trying to lure them in and create an opportunity for escape, not hold them off. Holding them off is the worst outcome,” Elenore said pointedly.

“Should’ve just left in a small group,” Durran said quietly. He knelt on the floor, glaive leaning against his shoulder as he stared at the distant set of steep stairs. “Winged it from there.”

“Of all people, the man who lectured me about using my abilities for good suggests we simply leave?” Elenore said angrily.

Durran looked back. “You’re no good to anyone dead.”

“Durran. If leaving quietly was the best plan, I’d have taken it. We have no wyvern on hand, in case you forget, and there isn’t one to steal. Elenore’s men are our only avenue of escape. Keep your ears open and your mouth shut,” Argrave commanded him in a low voice. “Now is the last time for complaints like that.”

The tribal looked away, then rose to his feet. Argrave could tell he felt a bit embarrassed. Then, his eyes jumped off to the side.

Galamon stood there, a pile of what appeared to be gold in his hands. “Got them. This enough?”

“Probably too much. Vasquer insisted, though,” Argrave nodded, stepping forth to examine the scales and feathers from Vasquer’s body. “You’re certain seeing these will make Felipe go along with things?”

Elenore crossed her arms and nodded. “I’ve spent the majority of my adult life doing my business right under the king’s nose. I understand all it takes to make him step forward or make him stay quiet. He values Vasquer. He thinks everyone is incompetent besides himself. The moment he’s certain Vasquer is present… he’ll come personally, secure her.”

Argrave tapped one golden scale, then looked to Vasquer, giving the big snake a nod of respect. “Good enough for me. We’ll take our spot,” he said, leaving Elenore behind with a wave.

“So—we’re on traitor-stopping duty?” Durran turned back.

“Protection,” Elenore nodded. “Whoever Levin has planted might make their move, and I’d rather not be undefended.”

Durran thumbed at Anneliese. “She can see through anyone’s thoughts, let me tell you. You’re in good hands.”

Elenore took a deep breath and exhaled. “We’ll see.”

#####

“It’s clear, your Majesty,” Jezuit reported to Felipe.

Glancing around the city of Dirracha, the king saw people running and screaming. Any that came near the royal guards pleading for help were cast to the ground just as Felipe had instructed. His gaze briefly lingered on the smoke rising from the Dragon Palace atop the mountain this city surrounded, yet he turned his head and ducked into the building.

Though once a bar of some sort, a gentleman’s club of good enough repute to enter even the king’s ear, the place had been trashed. In the back, royal knights stepped down into a set of stairs concealed beyond a liquor vault. The king took steady and slow steps deeper within, his caution not fading.

“Your Majesty. There’s a small force, thoroughly entrenched deeper within,” Jezuit explained. “They hauled away these,” Jezuit clapped his hands, and one of his knights stepped forward, kneeling and offering up something.

Felipe took off one of his gauntlets, running his hand across the scale. His eyes paused when he noticed something—black blood on the bottom of the scale. He caught a drop with his finger, then pulled back his helmet to taste it. His eyes wandered, catching sight of golden feathers.

At once, Felipe’s gray eyes hardened. “They have Vasquer, I have no doubt. Report! What was happening within?”

“Your Majesty,” one knight stepped forward, kneeling. “All of the men hauled these scales to a room. It seemed to have some sort of escape in it. I witnessed many more people deeper within with scales of a similar make as this.”

Jezuit briefly turned his head to the guard in confusion but did not contest the point. Felipe’s breathing quickened.

Those words seemed to make up his mind. Felipe stepped forth to the knight that had given his report. “You—lead ten men to this room. Seal it off, proceed down this escape to catch any who might’ve gone. Jezuit—you and I shall lead an assault with the rest of these men.”

“Your Majesty, this report is the testimony of one knight. This entire situation reeks of entrapment. We should proceed careful—” Jezuit began.

Felipe grabbed his knight-commander’s gorget. “I’ve killed Magisters of the Order personally. I’ve fought against the gods of the wetlands. I marched at the front of our vanguard into the northern kingdoms, bringing each and all under heel. I am to be feared, not afraid. I am not going to stand idly by while they defile my forefather’s heritage. Already, they tear her apart,” Felipe gestured to the scale.

“You are older now,” Jezuit maintained firmly.

King Felipe released his knight-commander. “I can fight as well as I always have. I bear all of what I wore to fight in the wetlands—I will not rest on my laurels while they desperately scrape Vasquer of whatever value she has in their desperate escape.”

The king marched forth, putting his gauntlet back on as he walked. Jezuit looked bitter even though his face was hidden by his helmet, but he quickly moved to walk ahead of the king. The matter was decided—they would proceed. The knight-commander barked an order, and the guard swarmed around Felipe, ready to head deeper in.

The king maintained a constant pace down the stairs. On the opposite end, their foes fired enchanted arrows that glowed with magical light as they travelled through the air. The guards were diligent and constant in their protection, yet even as fire and lightning blared near the king, he was unflinching. An arrow struck his shoulder yet bounced harmlessly off, an explosion of flame rendered impotent before whatever magic protected him.

They reached a room that branched off. Several people remained within, one of them an incredibly large man bearing dark gray plate armor.

“I shall catch the escapers, your Majesty!” the knight who’d reported of this escape point earlier promised then ran off, bringing a fair number of the knights along with him.

“Halt!” Jezuit shouted, yet Felipe grabbed his shoulder.

“It is my command, Jezuit. Proceed,” the king directed.

The group of royal knights escorting their king pressed forth incredibly quickly. Shield-bearers at the front had grown accustomed to the manner in which their foes attacked, and used their enchanted guards to great effect. Each room was checked for enemies. As they came close enough to slaughter those archers they fought, a milky white mist started to form around their party, dense enough to block sight.

The frontline began to face dark-skinned elven warriors of a kind Felipe had never seen before. They were quite skilled, yet without enchanted weaponry, they fell quickly. Even still, there was such a great bulk of them that progress began to stall. As soon as one fell, they retreated for another to take their place.

Felipe held his hand out. “Clear!” he shouted, and the royal knights looked back. In seconds, they ducked aside. And seconds after, a great wave of white proceeded forth, an icy mist coupled with biting fangs. It tore through all foes ahead, dispersing the mist and leaving a wide-open stairway.

“A magic of some sort,” Felipe declared. “Proceed.”

One final set of stairs awaited deeper within. Though Felipe had his men scan each room they passed by, none were large enough to accommodate a snake of any kind, nor did any lead deeper. Instead, they finally made it to one large, too-steep set of stairs. Felipe could plainly see the enemy retreating. Those conjured elven warriors had screened their escape.

With Jezuit leading, they quickly proceeded down the steep stairs. Once they descended below a certain point… a vast room opened up before Felipe. It must’ve been larger than even the Dragon Palace, though it was simply and crudely carved. Illuminated by white magic lights, it had a sterile atmosphere.

Yet it was impossible to miss the gargantuan golden snake bound in the back of the room, its great bulk coiled up. This room was made for it, Felipe could tell at once. It consumed far more than half of it.

“Send one man back, Jezuit. All royal knights should come, no matter how devastating the outside remains,” Felipe declared.

Yet back where they had come from, a thick beige smoke danced against the floors, the walls, and the ceiling.