I had a lot of notifications, and there was a persistent blinking in the corner of my vision to remind me, but I didn’t want to go through it right now. When the king’s quest popped up I shoved it away quickly after reading it as I didn’t need the reminder of everything that had happened. That’s what they all would be. Every one of them would be a reminder of death and devastation. I didn’t need that at all when I could clearly see what our gifts our battle had brought all around us.

I tried not to look through a sour lens at it all, but it was tough not to at this point. Fogwarth had barely budged, losing a sister, slaying his own brother, then watching his father pass away right before him. Ak-Lok had joined us, but the Golem never said much. Fogwen had taken to rounding up the remaining Icaraz soldiers and binding their wrists with whatever her and the leftover Mothric guards could find. Aspenoc managed to convince her to let his grandson remain unbound under the stipulation that he personally oversaw him, but the presence of a soldier of the enemy, family or not, had kept a lot of the Mothric citizens on edge.

Aspenoc’s son, the father of Aeronik, was not as well received. The speaker continued to argue and push back against the Mothric guards, almost coming to blows with Fogwen before finally being forced to get in line with the other Icaraz soldiers. He looked to where the queen had died, a twitch to his face, but ultimately accepted it.

Goomba would have been useful as temporary housing for many of these people, allowing them to sleep safely in shifts, but I could not do it to him. He silently wept, his dark eyes never leaving the king’s body. Many of the moths approached him and gave their thanks, praising him for toppling the stage which they assumed had freed the king, thus turning the tide of the battle. He only ignored them. No innuendos, no bolstering confidence, just a solemn mourning of whatever shadowed history he had with the king and with the dead God he was bound to before me. It hurt seeing him suffer, and after speaking with him it was apparent he wished to be unsummoned for a little while. I placed a hand on his stalk, thanking him for his help and promising to summon him again when the timer was gone and when we could be somewhere else.

Then, just when I thought the pain was over and the healing could begin, the speaker bee stood up yet again. He had refused to be bound this time, demanding to speak to his father, Aspenoc. There was some debate and argument, and Aspenoc clearly did not wish to speak to him at all, but reluctantly agreed on the condition that he was bound now and waited until close to nightfall. The speaker protested, actively trying to shimmy out of his binding, but agreed. His eyes kept shifting back to the crater the king had left; the one that had become the tomb of his queen. It was probably hard on all of them, but I could imagine it made someone like him feel a little extra vulnerable.

Then again, the people of this kingdom lost their ruler as well.

I had just discussed assisting Fogwarth with burying his brother and father, when a groaning, horrid sound called out from all around us. It was a moan, a velvet rasp that hummed in agony. I uncomfortably watched as the gross, sizzling, drooping flesh ball that was the Icaraz queen pulled herself out of the hole with her thin insectoid arms. I was taken back, but I wasn’t having that shit. I clenched my sword in my hand, seeing my skills available and feeling Scrappy get into his boxing stance right on top of my head. The queen’s face was a horrid painting of blood and mangled flesh, with one eye burned from her head and both antennae completely gone. She revealed herself more, showing a breast that had been melted away entirely and matted, heat-rendered tender flesh that scorched one side of her body. She stared at the sky, groaning as if it owed her an explanation.

Even in her current state I doubted I could do much, but I’d at least try. Other guards also came to attention, and Ak readied his bow.

Then the ground she clung to erupted. Dirt and debris sailed free, blurring our vision of her. The force of whatever happened was enough to cause everyone to brace themselves, and I was nearly thrown back by it. I expected the queen to use an ability, had even prepared that she would be the one to take a full offensive.

I did not expect to see her absolutely, no questions asked, utterly dead.

The dust settled, and standing on top of the now lifeless corpse of the former queen were two beings I had never seen before. I heard the round of gasps and shrieks that echoed around me as the two were seen, but I didn’t full grasp who they were just yet. Sure, they had killed the queen, but she was on death's door to begin with.

Both of the newcomers were strange. Like, really fucking strange. The first was what I would call a male moth person, however they were just as human as Fogwen was, with a normal body, two arms, two legs, and a set of wings on their back. Even their face was human, except for the red, grid eyes of a moth which were still human-shaped at least. This one had a quaff of pretty-boy blonde hair, slicked back and purposefully tussled. He wore armor that was nothing short of gleaming. Bright silver, like a chrome rim on a car, covered his chest plate, greaves, even the helmet he carried under one arm. His gauntlets didn’t really match and were more of a pale silver color, but they did match the thin, long saber at his waste. The other, who had been kneeling with an enormous stone warhammer buried in the queen’s skull, was more feminine, except for that her own armor seemed to be carved straight from pieces of stone. She was also very human, with long red hair to match. If it weren’t for the antennae and wings I would have assumed she was a full-blown human. Her warhammer really stood out in the equation since the damn thing was nearly the size of her and more of a huge carved piece of a mountainside than a real weapon.

“It… It is the Lords…” The speaker said, standing and stammering backward at the sight of the two. “No… No!”

The gleaming one smirked, running his shining gauntlet through his hair before chuckling. When he spoke his voice oozed like warm gravy, and he spoke as if he had been trained his entire life on the delicate art of captivating others with words alone.

“Have we truly missed all of the festivities?” He said, punctuating his words with a sigh. “What a horrible shame this is. And after coming all of this way, no less! A pity.” The gleaming man stepped over the squashed flesh of the queen and moved to stand next to the king, prodding his corpse a little with the edge of his boot. “Well, I suppose it is not a total waste for us, my sweet. It seems our people are in need of new, stable leadership. And who better than us? Father’s chosen.”

“Yes, my love,” the stone woman said. She stood, the stone pieces of her armor scraping together with a grinding noise as she moved to be with the shiny dude, a colossal warhammer slung over one shoulder. “If we had come but a moment sooner we may have saved our dear, sweet, innocent father.”

They both stared at him for a moment, then erupted into deep, echoing laughter. The man in the shining armor kicked the lifeless king’s body, flipping it over in the dirt as they chuckled over it. The stone armored woman kicked it next in turn, treating the massive body like a child’s toy. The king wasn’t anything personal to me, and he may have done what these people claimed, but in the end he protected us all. He gave his life to save what little remained of the kingdom he built and the people in it. He protected me. I felt errant anger flood me again, and even though I was in no rush to go full tiger-berry again so soon I still wished the mutagen could resurface already.

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“Hey!” I screamed, stepping up where they could see me. “Knock it off!”

“Oh?” The shining one turned and faced me, stupid ass quaffed hair shimmering and shifting in the breeze. “Oh! A talking blueberry! How fun! Are you a new familiar, little berry? Perhaps a new construct of my dear, eldritch-obsessed brother, Fogdahn?”

“Look, my love! It has a sword! It is so adorable!” The stone armored woman added.

I growled. Come here after we did all the real work and then insult me? I even felt Scrappy tense up on my head; the little guy clearly could tell I was pissed. Just when I thought I would do something stupid, I felt a heavy hand rest on me, and looked over to see Fogwarth standing at my side.

“Barry, please meet the final two of my siblings. Heir 1st, and Heir 3rd. The new Platinum Lord and Granite Lord of Palea. Fogpeter, and Fogmary,” he said. There was no emotion to his tone, neither happiness at their arrival or malice at their actions. There simply was nothing.

Wait. Hold on. Wait just a God damn minute.

“Let’s back up a bit here. Fogpeter? Fogmary? And the 2nd Heir is… Fogwen… You have to be kidding. You have to be fucking kidding me. Did the king really name his first three kids after Spider-Man characters?!”

Fogwarth laughed. “Oh, my dearest Companion, your humor never fails to shine light even when there is only darkness. I do not know what a spider man is, but I must guess that it is a spider who has taken on the evolutionary path that is perhaps more humanoid? Oh! Or a centaur who has taken the path of an arachnoid! Please, tell me more! I do hope it is as humorous as your stories of A Bug’s Life were!”

I sighed, realizing that officially no one here would get those references. Maybe that would be my next goal then. I could find more people who gave music references. More of the Resurfaced hiding out amongst the crowd. Luckily, I already knew of one who gave an open invitation to meet her in the Wandering City.

The two Lords wandered forward, making their way down until they were close enough to Fogwarth to hold an actual conversation. At this distance I felt like I could truly see these two, and something about them was… off. Their eyes, their expressions, their laughter, it was all so fake and plastic. It all seemed like a ruse. I decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being, knowing that these two were most likely almost as powerful as the king was but clearly still at their peak strength from missing the action here altogether.

“Baby brother!” Fogmary said. God, am I really going to have to call these two by their stupid names? “It is splendid to see you, Fogwarth. It has been many years since we have been together, and it pleases me that you have finally accepted your path.”

“Yes… It is good to see you both as well,” Fogwarth answered, his tone lightening for hospitality’s sake. “And you are correct. I found purpose in advancement, and it seems it was all that I needed to accept my place.”

Fogpeter laughed. “You may be no full-blooded moth brother, but this evolution suits you. I doubt you may ever find a path with the wings you desire, but greatness may come in all forms. And now you may truly pursue the path of the Pearlescent Lord! It will be most excellent to see more of us in the days to come.”

“I… I suppose what you say is true, Heir 1st. I can only hope to live up to expectation,” Foggy said, clearly pushing something down deep. “Oh, where are my manners? This is my Companion, sir berry. He has been a staunch ally of Mothric, saving our people on numerous counts and even managing to win the battle against Icaraz for us!”

I berry blushed.

“Really?” Fogpeter said, shifting his odd gaze on me. You know what it was? It was the Uncanny Valley thing! The weird human defense mechanism against things at are almost human but not quite. It was his eyes and his expressions. It was like he hid horrible things behind them. I gulped as he continued. “I would very much like to see your capabilities someday, blueberry.”

“And what might we call you, blueberry?” Fogmary asked, feigning a smirk.

I sighed, already knowing where this was going. “It’s Barry… My name is Barry.”

Some time had passed and the morning had already come and gone, leaving us in a quieter evening. Ak-Lok and I assisted with the grave digging efforts, helping bury Foghurdt and the king, along with some of the Mothric citizens and guards. It was somewhat cathartic, but ultimately it just left me feeling emotionally exhausted.

In that one afternoon we had more than doubled the size and plots of the castle’s cemetery. Fogwarth told us that there were smaller ones all over the land that were more family or village specific, but that only served to remind us all of how many more dead lingered in the outskirts. Once all were buried, with wooden stakes etched with names driven in the ground above them as indicators, a small group of the moths went above working on real grave markers, and we made our way back to the castle proper.

The mood inside was tense.

The two Lords were pacing around the castle, hand in hand, speaking in hushed tones and examining tapestries and art fixtures. I knew historically that in the history of the real world royalty tended to do the same shit, but I was still uncomfortable at the Game of Thrones level of affection the sibling moths had. When they shared a kiss I visibly gagged and had to turn away so as not to be caught doing so. It was clear these two had big plans, and since Fogpeter, the dumbest names of all the siblings, was next in line for the throne it was obvious he was already planning to make some changes.

We greeted H’Acur, the beetle blacksmith, but he was less than talkative. Other than thanking us for saving who we could, the man just stared into the distance and stayed locked in his own mind. I didn’t blame him, a lot of people had done the same as we walked around. They had lost family, friends, homes, and businesses. In a single day their entire life was flipped over and spanked.

I worried about Foggy the entire time, but he seemed to suppress whatever true feelings he had for now.

Foggy took us to another moth and greeted him warmly. This one was sitting slouched with his head in his hands, clearly taking the more common evolution path I had seen around here, but opted to wear more extravagant attire. A sky blue tunic, green trousers, and a long white overcoat with a golden thread stitched pattern of a dragon all over it. He even wore a golden circlet on his head. Was this what being rich in the moth world looked like? Or was this just an eccentric member of the royal family here.

“Sir berry, it is wonderful luck that this man yet survives!” Foggy said, patting the guy on the shoulder and jostling him around. “This is Ryzzah, our Titlesmith! An asset to any kingdom indeed, and one we are privileged to have. Noble Ryzzah, this is my dearest friend, Barry the blueberry!”

The title guy looked me up and down, then chuckled. It didn’t seem like he chuckled as if he was making fun of me, but more like he noticed something that someone else didn’t. I still scowled, just in case this dickhead wanted to be disrespectful. I’ve been through too much these last few days to be put down by some clown like this. He stopped, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other.

“Ah, how splendid,” he said. “I have heard much of this berry, and you have my thanks for what you have done on this day. I am not ignorant of where my future may have been, should you all have not succeeded. Enslaved, made to smith titles for the undeserving of Icaraz just to bolster their own merit and morale. Yet, I live to serve Mothric another day. May I offer you a blessing I learned in the early days of my travels, Barry?”

I nodded, unsure of what he was talking about. Ryzzah leaned forward, extending his hands forward and closing them into fists. Side by side, he touched his thumbs together at an angle, as if the two formed a shallow mountain peak, then he extended both of what I would call pointer fingers, since he only had three, out to make some kind of shape with the two thumbs and two fingers. It was odd. Maybe it was a bird?

“On this day, I, Ryzzah, hope that this humble berry may yet find and see the light of this world. May he find his purpose…” There was a long pause, then his eyes locked on mine, and he sort-of smiled. “And, may the powers of Wu Tang be forever.”