My head… oh, my aching berry head.

For a dream world I certainly didn’t lack sleep or unconsciousness. The fuck were they doing up there in the hospital? Beating my skull with a crowbar? Stupid big city hospitals, stupid shit healthcare. I swear if I ever wake up from this place I’m moving to Canada. Or Finland. Or Atlantis.

To be honest, I was doubting my dream theory more and more anyway. I was actively circling back to my afterlife theory. I mean fuck. Everything here hurt so bad. Bludgeoned, hungry, thirsty, stabbed, flung around in a giant metal ball. What a strange Hell it would be. Until now the most realistic dreams I had ever had were ones where I woke up to take a piss, only to realize I was actually still asleep and… well, taking a piss. It’s no wonder I had trouble finding dates, huh?

“If it is not alive, then I vote we eat it!”

I groaned. “Go away… Foggy… five more minutes…”

“Eat it? Preposterous, Aspenoc! It may be dense and juicy, bursting with the tart tang our calypso blueberries have been recognized on for decades! It may be refreshingly crisp, punishingly sweet! But, by the name of our dying Gods, it is my son’s friend! And we shall treat our Barry as such!”

“It does not matter, my lord,” the old, creaking voice said. “Sadly, our meal must wait. It seems our dear Barry has survived after all. A shame, really.”

I almost felt bad for them. Except, you know, they wanted to eat me.

I cracked my eyes open and took in the gray and the gloom. What was this place? I blinked a few times, allowing the moisture to coat my eyes and gift me with better vision. Still, it was hard to see anything outside of what the dancing lights revealed with their ever-changing rhythm. The torchlight lapped at us l like a thirsty dog, and I rolled myself up to a seated position to take it all in.

Bars, and lots of them. Easily as thick as my arm and made of an odd, pitted blue metal that reminded me of coral, only with the sheen of new chrome. The ground was wood, as was the ceiling and the wall behind us. Some kind of cage then? A crate? It felt like being trapped inside of a cat carrier.

Suddenly I felt bad for my childhood cat, Officer Alex Purrrphy AKA Robocat. Poor thing hated the carrier. Then again it hated a lot of things, like cheese and corrupt futuristic Detroit mega corporations, but Officer Alex Purrrphy AKA Robocat was still alright in my books. Miss that little shit.

Anyway, this felt a lot like that. I was trapped. Utterly trapped. From just outside of the strange bars I could see bee soldiers patrolling, torches in one hand and spears in another. They roamed the area surrounding this weird box, three pairs of two soldiers at a time circling us like Jaws. For a moment I was surprisingly honored. Six guards for me? A blueberry? Shit. Must have made a real impact on them with my killer flower moves.

At least, I thought that until the chains beside me rustled. Then I remembered who was in here with me.

“We meet again, small berry friend. This is one grim predicament we are in, I must say. I have found it rather hard to Nick this Cave, indeed.”

Oh God. Oh no. It was Eyeballs McGee. Good old king eyeballs. I ignored his strange, obscure music reference and turned to look at the thing.

Sure enough, barely illuminated by the passing of torch flames, was Fogwarth’s father, along with the Oracle bee, Aspenoc.

Chains bound them both. The king’s chains wrapped around his massive wings and pinned him to the back wall with huge railroad spike style nails; his wings literally stretched from one side to the other within our storage container-sized cell. Aspenoc was bound more traditionally with a simple binding of the blue chains around his wrists and ankles. He sat just beside the mass of eyeballs, leaning against the back wall and staring out into the nightfall beyond the bars.

Wait… nightfall. Nightfall?! Fogwarth… Ak-Lok… how much time had passed? Where were they?

“Good to see you again, Barry,” Aspenoc said, coughing into his sleeve after. “I see you have found your Tier 1 path. Good. It pleases me to see your growth and your health.”

I broke free from my momentary lament to glare at the Oracle.

“You sure about that? Pretty sure if I was dead you’d have a stomach full of Barry right about now,” I answered with no lack of malice. “But yeah. I got to Tier 1. Fuck all good it did me though. Still got the decay debuff, still useless in combat, still relying on others to bail me out.”

“All things come with time,” the King answered, and I noticed how his once bellowing, terrifying voice was now more tamed and reserved. I still could barely stand to look at the guy. I mean, it was literally a cluster of eyeballs. Yuck.

“I don’t understand,” I said and shook my head/body. “Aren’t you guys all powerful and shit? Like, you’re the king. I’ve seen what your kids are capable of. Hell, I’ve seen what the Golem your kid summoned can do. How are you here? Blast us out of here, or whatever it is you do.”

The eyes shut with a squelch of wrinkling eyelids, making me shiver in momentary disgust. The King laughed. I was thoroughly grateful that he no longer had that horrible bellowing tone, since I was a little concerned this wooden box wouldn’t hold up to it. Aspenoc had cackled a bit too, reminding me of the other bees. The Oracle raised his chains and showed the pitted, blue metal.

“Soul Veil steel,” he answered casually, rattling it again. “A strong metal, heavier than stone and cold as ice to the touch. It has a… negative effect on ambient Mana.”

“Consider it a mere sponge,” the king added. “Shriveled and absorbent. Left alone it will very slowly drain an open area dry, yet when it contacts with flesh it has a thirst which is unquenchable.”

Aspenoc sighed. “We were ambushed, Barry. Manipulated and bound. We have nothing left of our strength. Even if I did, I am no fighter. No warrior. They bind me, not out of fear, but out of spite. They torture me so. No longer can I see the paths ahead, or the roads we may travel. I am… worthless. In the morning, at the sun’s first rise, I will face the executioner's blade as little more than a weakened old fool.”

“What? What!?” I shouted, scrambling up to my feet. “We’re going to be executed?!”

“Well, we most certainly are,” the king answered, all of his misshapen eyes staring at me. “As for you? I am not so sure. You, Barry, are an enigma to our world. Something new… Something… blue. They may execute you for fear of what you are, or what you could be. They may choose to lock you away and study you, or they may dissect you and do the same. Icaraz is full of zealous fools who would dare worship dying Gods that have done little for them. If they believe their foolish prophecies and ignorant prayers then you may be the something they truly fear. And, as we know, fear can be a powerful motivator.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

I thought I would lose my berry lunch for a moment, and I took deep breaths in and out just to remain stable. It was just as Lucan said when I arrived. They thought I was some kind of fucking demon, or a bad omen at the very least. They would never let me live, and even if they did it wouldn’t be a life worth living. Fuck.

My eyes wandered, studying the wooden walls and the Soul Veil steel bars. I was without my sword, not that it would do me much good anyway, and both of my abilities were more about immobilizing or disabling a target. I wasn’t bound in any of the blue metal, so my Mana reserve was unaffected as long as I stood away from the cell bars. Maybe I could rush them when they came in? Then again both of my abilities would do all of jack shit if there were more than one. Was the sunflower cannon powerful enough to blow a hole in the wood? Eh, probably not. Even if it did we would still be screwed. I needed to find a way to remove the chains of the other two. They were my best bet, especially Foggy’s dear old daddy.

“Heirlooms…” I said, thinking out loud. “We… We captured one of the soldiers before I was caught. It said something about heirlooms, and that you were a big old piece of shit liar. Something like that, I’m just paraphrasing. Does that mean anything to you?”

Aspenoc cackled once more, even louder now, then fell to his side as if the laughter was murdering him.

“Oh! Oh my!” Aspenoc said, desperately attempting to compose himself. “Oh, good Barry, you have answered so much with so little!”

I raised a berry brow, but the king could only sigh his response at first.

“Foghurdt…” The king said a moment later, as the cackling finally subsided from beside him. “Is it truly the reason? Have I… Have I failed him so much?”

“Huh?” I answered, not really following. “The big guy? Four arms? What’s he got to do with this?”

“He… He…” Aspenoc pulled himself together, letting the last of his laughter fall away like old snow. It wasn’t the chuckle of someone who was actually happy, but more of the saddened realization laughter that came over someone who had lost all hope. “He betrayed us all, Barry. Heir 4th brought the soldiers in from the north under the guise of envoys and delivered them their orders. He, among other detractors of the Mothric Kingdom, planted Soul Veil ore strategically around the castle the night prior, draining the king and senior advisors, along with most of the interior guard. When the attack came we were weakened to the point of capture.”

“No… it can’t be…” I answered, thinking back to the morning prior before we set off to the southern border. Foghurdt had helped me at the blacksmith’s forge. He wasn’t exactly the friendliest of the bunch, but to turn on his family? On his people? It didn’t seem right. “Are you sure? What about the freaky one? With the scythe and the big eyeball?”

The king looked shocked, his eyes giving me the… side eye, for lack of a better term. “Fogdahn? No. Fogdahn walks his own path and has his own ill-advised ambitions, but he is no traitor. I am only grateful that he still lives. He was nearly decimated outside of the northern wall and only barely managed to escape according to reports we have heard. It is… it is more than I can say for my dear daughter…”

Fogwen…? I wanted to ask but I just couldn’t do it. If Fogwen… if she had failed, if she died, then what would it say about the fate of Fogwarth and Ak-Lok? I felt a tremble rise in my gut and it sent me back down to the floor. For a long moment I could only stare at the wood grain below, following their dark corridors and deep cuts into the shadows.

“Heir 5th…” Aspenoc spoke up after a moment, causing the anvil on my shoulders to suddenly lift. 5th? 5th! Okay! From what I remember Fogwen was 2nd. Which meant… “Fogetha fought bravely from what we were told, my lord. She and her forces stood their ground and held off the Icaraz intruders, saving many of our people in the process. She made her kingdom proud.”

Aspenoc put his chained hands on a wrinkled eyelid in an act of comfort.

I felt horrible about my relief, but I couldn’t control it. I didn’t know Fogetha well, and truth be told I really hated snakes, but I still didn’t want her to just flat out die. Yet, she did, and I was… almost happy about it. It meant that Fogwen could still be alive, and that meant my Companions may actually have a chance. I briefly brought up my Companion tab to see what information I could gather but so far it remained exactly the same. Maybe that was a good thing, or maybe it just didn’t do anything at all if one of them died, but I’d still take it as a win that they could be out there alive. Shit, maybe they’d even come rescue us!

The king sighed in resignation, clearly mourning the loss of one of his children but trying to keep a strong front. “The heirlooms… The bloody heirlooms. Barry,” the king turned his attention to me. “What has my son told you of the Seven Lords of Palea?”

“Huh? The who?” I asked, barely paying attention as I redoubled my focus on breaking us out of here. The king apparently didn’t care about my idea because he blabbed on anyway, distracting me from my goal; which realistically should have been his goal too.

“Long ago there were Seven Lords that roamed this world, each a descendant of our now dying Gods,” he began, a tone of dejection in his voice. “In truth I had thought them to serve no purpose here. They were powerful, held artifacts of great strength and renown, and only served as a reminder of how much greater those of divinity were then the rest of us. I… In my youth I grew to disdain them. To hate them, Barry. Not for who they were as real people of this world, or for what they had done. Not even for what they held. It was for what they could do. The promise of power. It was power I never wished to claim, but one I wished to bury as I rose into power myself.”

“It had to be done, my lord,” Aspenoc answered.

“Had to be done…?” I asked. “What did you do to them? Is that why the bees are here?”

The king shook his… eyeballs. “It is, and it is not. There was a time when I chose to ignore them as my kingdom gained power and land. For a time there was peace and prosperity here. But… I feared them. I always feared them. What they would do if they… No, never mind that.” The king paused and I thought to ask him what he was going to say, but thought better of it a moment later. “Eventually I had a family, and sired six children in a short span of years with Azreet. She was always so… ambitious. And so, we devised a plan. A plan to ensure my children, my royal line, would be unmatched.”

He inhaled a sharp breath as if the memory was lodged in his throat.

I then recalled the sword and shield I had inspected on Fogwarth. I peeled the fabric of my mind back and thought hard about them, about their names. [Kite Shield of the Pearlescent Lord]. [Broadsword of the Pearlescent Lord]. Items. Were those the artifacts the king was talking about? Did he…?

“You killed them, then…” I spoke up, breaking the long stretch of silence. “You killed the lord people and stole their weapons.”

“Yes,” the king answered a breath later. “For lack of a better phrase, I killed them. I took from them the artifacts they were gifted, treating them as heirlooms for my own kin. It was… systematic in the approach. No other kingdom knew of my doings, only assuming they were falling the same as the Gods who granted them such power. So, I saved their artifacts within my walls until the day my own children grew strong enough to wield them. My allies and I had slain six of the seven lords, with a single one escaping our might. Yet, it was enough. It was all I had needed. And then… Then, Fogwarth was born. We were an heirloom short, and matters of the kingdom had changed. I could no longer afford such a risk to the safety of my people, and I chose not to pursue the seventh lord.”

“And Foghurdt was the one who was skipped out on for the artifacts then? Is that it? Some spoiled ass moth just pissed because daddy didn’t get him something shiny?”

Aspenoc cackled again. “Something shiny! I can see why Fogwarth admires you as a Companion, Barry. These remnants of the Lords are much more than merely shiny trinkets and baubles. They are a wealth of power and knowledge. If both artifacts of a lord are in one's possession it guarantees them the evolution path of a lord at their third tier. Our king would be the father of the Lords of Palea! It would have brought all of the Lords, save for one, under a single banner and united all of the skirmishing factions of this world. It was… It was a more noble cause than I dear king believes.”

“Yeah but still, he destroyed his entire home and enslaved his own people just because he didn’t get a fucking gift?” I said, shaking my head again. “That can’t be true.”

“Not because of what he did not receive,” the king said, shifting his gaze to me once more. “It is because of what was taken away from him.”