In the depths of a mountain, where no natural light has ever touched, the Queen stirred. She had felt her sister's death, the frantic call had made Her awaken from Her sleep. She had felt as Her sister died, body ripped apart by fire. She grew angry and called out to Her other sisters, desperate to hear their voices. Silence. None responded. The Queen mourned in the depths of her hive, amongst the bones of those who had contested her. As the depths of Her grief drowned those close to Her, the mountain that was now a hive stirred.

Torien stepped back, allowing the blade to dig into the hard earth at his feet. His sword flickered once, and the creature staggered back. Its gray fur was wet with blood, its eyes wide and uncomprehending as its lifeblood flowed down its chest. It staggered a few steps on its cloven feet before falling to the ground. Torien snorted in disgust, a flicker of his mana rolling down his sword and evaporating the beast's blood. This faction was weak. Their warriors fell with little trouble, as the rest fled, heading North toward where his sister had hidden herself.

The thought of Sulian was enough to make him frown. With her desertion, he had lost his ranking, falling to third of three. It was enough to make him wish to kill his sister. She would be brought back, of that there was no doubt. For now though, he had to capture the fort to the South of his. At least, that had been the objective. Then the alert had ripped all that apart. The rising of a Citadel and a King that would need to die. Torien did not mind the challenge, for who could compare to the glory of the sun?

Voltag brought his ax down with a resounding crash. Flesh splintered, spraying the air with chunks of wood. All around him, the work parties busied themselves, felling the trees. The others, the great green skinned tusked warriors, moved with natural grace. They worked together, a forging of a powerful alliance. The green ones, much taller than his own dwarves, lashed trees together, the start of great mobile shields. Voltag nodded in respect to their leader, Singer Gruthak, He Who Sang Across the Sea.

Gruthak was old; his face lined with deep creases, his long hair was brittle and white. His clothes were clean and well fashioned, if impractical. All around him, his warriors listened with respect, following the direction of the dwarven engineers with nothing but a raised eyebrow from the old Singer. Voltag didn’t understand them, but Sylva had led the negotiations. An alloy could become more than the sum of their parts, Voltag knew.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

If they wished to slay this King, and present a strong front against the other factions, they would have to work together. Voltag had to shake his head, for the two camps had nearly come to blows when they first encountered each other. It was only Gruthak, obviously aged and wise, who had stopped Voltag from whetting his blade with blood. It was a good alliance, they had weathered the storms, slain the storm elementals and broken the great tortoise together. Voltag knew they had more to accomplish, but it would be done together.

Luke watched Billy carefully. He was a slippery cur, lying out of one side of his mouth, Luke knew it. Knew it in his bones, deeper than anything else he had ever known. The man was dishonest, it was his very nature. Everything he said, every action, every breath, was a damn lie. Luke had seen flashes of the truth, and it was enough to make his heart quicken with excitement.

The two days they had spent with each other. The burning rage, the bloodlust, the killer instinct. That was the real Billy, the one he was trying so hard to keep from everyone else. They all knew though. Luke had heard them talking to each other; the fighters Dan had assembled, the people from the mountain, hell, even the ones he had rescued from Dan knew. There was something off about Billy. He hadn’t done anything too far and beyond that could be used against him.

Luke knew it was coming, it was only a matter of time. He had seen the looks Billy would shoot him, the jealousy, rage, and most importantly, the insecurity. Before he had increased his stats, Luke would never have noticed it. With his perception this high though, it was like a giant neon sign above the big man’s head. It would come soon, likely after the Citadel. Luke wasn’t worried, in fact, he was happy. Things had started to get dull.

Sulian listened to what Thrush told her of her new ally. He was competent, but his bared soul reeked of bitterness and rage. A potent combination, the winds of hell that washed away all, everytime he spoke. Sulian enjoyed Bobby and Agatha and little Olivia. Teaching them felt right and easy. Their leader left much to be desired. Was he just another Torien? Were they going to exchange one master for another? One who was a foreigner.

“What do you suggest, Thrush?” The killer was a well known fixer. Those who opposed his master’s often had a habit of winding up being found in a ditch. He was a good judge of character and loyal to a fault.

“Follow his lead, but be ready to run.”

“We stay the course then,” Sulian ordered. They were going to move South to find the Citadel. Billy had ordered them to stay hidden. Sulian was worried they would be caught between her brother’s honor and Billy’s ambitions. She would just have to ensure that her people survived.