“Good work!” Spencer said on the other side of the portal. “And to answer your question, no, I do not believe there are any bombs in the city.”

Sitting on Leland’s shoulder, the big crow disappeared into the ether, returning to its home realm. For a first outing using Crow Massacre’s new “leader” evolution, he was pleasantly surprised with the crow’s ambition. They didn’t even need to communicate verbally, the crow knowing all of Leland’s thoughts as he had them.

“Why do you say that?” Carmon asked.

“I’ve opened a direct line of contact with High Inquisitor Rushwin. He says that there have been no reports from any of the Inquisitor teams of anything remotely looking like a bomb.”

“A line of communication, huh?”

“Lucia, Diana, and Roy are fighting with the royal guards and the Inquisitors stationed at the castle.”

That sparked Leland and Jude’s interest. “What? Why?”

“What happened to searching for the Sightless King?” asked Leland.

A wave of uncertainty overcame Spencer before he crushed and locked it away. “They tracked him to the castle. He’s hiding in the body of someone.”

“Who?” all three boys asked at the same time.

Even Isobel and Carmon looked frankly shocked by the statement.

“We… don’t know. A soldier, or guard. And we can’t find a safe way to oust him. Not with the horde of cultists rushing through the fog toward the castle.” Spencer paused for a moment. “Any ideas?”

For some reason, all eyes fell to Glenny, who just shook his head. “The Sightless King isn’t dumb or weak enough to allow me to find him through our… link.”

“Any idea what he’s waiting for, then?” Carmon asked.

“Don’t know,” Spencer replied. “Roy thinks he’s biding his time to assassinate our leaders. But that’s what he always thinks in these situations.”

Jude’s eyebrows fumbled inward. “This situation happens often?”

“More or less, though not quite the same.” Spencer’s attention went skewed as something happened across the city. A small portal opened just in front of his lips. “Roger that,” he said into the portal before it abruptly closed.

He turned to the others. “Rushwin’s team just infiltrated the cult’s main headquarters. The fog around the castle should be retreating soo—”

Spencer cut himself off, cursing under his breath. To the others, the room simply fell silent. To Spencer, thirteen Inquisitor lives had narrowly been saved by a quick flash of power. A portal to the upper atmosphere above Ivory Reach had been opened, and a blast of primordial magic shattered the sky. The Inquisitors, however, were fine.

Mutely, Spencer sipped tea from his parasitic item. “Close call there. Cultists do have bombs, at least ones tied to their fog machines.”

Carmon, the only one who knew what Spencer’s cup meant, watched him blankly. “Uh huh. And what are we to do now? The Witch is dead, that’s a third of the enemy’s forces.”

Leland wasn’t sure if he agreed the Witch had been worth a third, but he understood the sentiment. Without a dedicated teleporter, Ashford and the Sightless King’s steps were going to be on dirt rather than appearing from thin air.

“Don’t know. But the castle is still being evacuated,” Spencer replied. “They can use help. Most of the guards and Inquisitors are tackling the fog problem throughout the city. Estimates put the number of cultists in the tens of thousands.”

All three boys recoiled at the number. “No way.” “That’s impossible.” “How did they get so many?”

“These aren’t the converted citizens cultists,” Spencer reminded. “These are the main members of the cult. How they got to Ivory Reach? Now that is a good question, but I suspect the Pathways Witch had something to do with it.”

“Can we handle tens of thousands of enemies?” Jude asked.

The three former Inquisitors in the room chuckled. “Yes,” was all that was said.

Unsaid was the difficulty of defending a city from the inside against such a number. Between the guard, soldiers, and Inquisitors, defeating tens of thousands wasn’t unheard of. However, battling with civilians around every corner and in every building was a problem.

“That’s good,” Jude muttered, receiving nods from both Leland and Glenny.

Frankly, the adults watched them with jealous eyes. To be so young, to not understand the implications of such a number. To not worry about killing civilians. Each adult, independent of one another, decided that if a full-scale city war began to happen, they would be removing the kids from the battle. Even Isobel knew not to expose them to such horrors.

“So what then? We just sit around and wait?” Leland asked.

Spencer took a deep breath. “Until Ashford or the Sightless King appears, yes… You could help with evacuations or defend the castle against cultists, but frankly the people already doing that don’t need more help. Especially not from three kids…”

There was a sparkle of something in his eyes. A wave of defiance or perhaps worry? Leland didn’t recognize the glimmer, but he did notice his father’s slow cadence and pauses. “Dad?” he asked, a single word enough to convey all these thoughts and more.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“I—” he sighed. “Your presence has been demanded. And Isobel’s.”

Both Leland and Isobel flinched. “By whom?”

“Aunty P.”

“…what does she want?”

Spencer took a deep breath. “Apparently to ‘check you two out herself.’ If Rushwin’s message is to be believed. And I think it is.”

“Well kid,” said Isobel, “we knew this would happen eventually.”

“I know,” Leland replied. “I just didn’t expect it to happen during a war.”

She snorted. “This isn’t a war, kid. Remember, this is all about protecting Sybil.”

----------------------------------------

Stepping through a portal, Leland and Isobel arrived at the battlefield alone. The fog was clearing slowly, allowing one to see the wider scope of carnage. Ivory stone ran up a grand hill, chiseled steps leading well into the castle’s main entrance. It stood like a beacon of protection, the castle’s bone walls still prime despite the destruction around it.

Anything that wasn’t made of bone had fallen to the bone splinters from above. Spikes larger than most species of trees were impaled throughout the area, each sticking straight up like Ashford’s own personal flags of conquest. These flags littered the castle’s open home, crushing what was present and instead reshaping it into a sea of white.

Down the steps toward the city proper, was war. No matter how Isobel framed it, for Leland, it was war. Spells flew through the air, arrows fired back. Swords met shields, steel met flesh. Death and blood flooded out as guards and soldiers held back the never ending spew of cultists. Without the fog, countless red eyes hung in the distance, a siege.

Leland and Isobel had to maneuver around the shards like trees in a forest and the destruction like ruins to a once great kingdom. They strolled over shattered bricks and concrete, marble and stained glass. Every dozen steps was another broken table or torn hand-painted portrait. While the main castle itself stood tall, the support buildings were dust.

That was where they found Aunty P, or rather, where she found them. Up the grand stairs they went, toward the castle. She stopped them with a spattering of guards and a few Inquisitors. Isobel, and for that matter Leland, recognized two of the Inquisitors.

“Royal Inquisitor, Isobel. Otherwise known as the Huntress,” Inquisitor Levi, a Legacy of the Wolf and someone who had once interviewed both Leland and Isobel, said.

Inquisitor Cassie, Legacy of the Wand and partner to Levi, then said, “Leland Silver. Harbinger of an unknown Lord, but goes by the Calamity. Shall I call you ‘Son of the Calamity’ like so many already have?”

Leland knew rolling his eyes was the wrong play here, but still, he did it anyway. Did they really have time for this? Titles were not of importance when there was a battle happening not a hundred paces away, right…? Or, and this just dawned on him, maybe they were.

These Inquisitors, Levi and Cassie, were low-ranked. Leland remembered Isobel frankly ignoring them after the events in Liontrunk. They were just investigators when all things boiled down. Not fighters like Royal Inquisitor Isobel. They would follow orders, especially if they were direct. And since they were the welcome party, he assumed Aunty P was listening.

After all, that woman could hear everything for miles around.

“Yeah, call me that if you want. Care to let us pass?”

Leland caught Isobel giving him a side glance. She went with it, saying, “We have been summoned. You know that, right?”

Levi bristled, hackles rising. “I do not like your tone, Huntress.”

“And I don’t like you.”

Cassie spoke before her partner could. “You lied to us, you know that right? Every question we ever asked you about Leland Silver, you lied. Why is that?”

Leland answered, “Because she knows you two don’t matter.”

“Exactly right,” Isobel said. “Why would I tell you two anything when I can talk to High Inquisitor Rushwin.”

“Like we already did,” Leland quickly added.

“Right again,” she mused. “So, let me ask you two again. You two know we have been summoned, and yet you still stand in our way. Are you the welcoming party or are you just tools Aunty P is using to gauge our temperament?”

“Because,” Leland cut in before either could respond, “if it is the latter, then we are just going to stroll right on by. There’s a war going on, after all, and we need to get back to it before too long.”

Both Inquisitors wore blank masks, though they both had shifted multiple times on their feet. Levi finally replied, “You may pass. But remember—”

“You are watching or some such. Yeah, yeah. Intimidation, blah, blah,” Isobel interrupted. Then she said to the open air, “You really need to revamp the Inquisitor play book. That’s just lazy.”

Levi and Cassie were trying to bore holes into her head with their stares.

Leland shrugged and stepped by. Isobel followed suit. The pack of guards parted, one even flinching as Leland stepped too close.

He eyed the armored many, and whispered, “I’m not that scary, am I?”

The question went unanswered as they walked past. Through the forest of bone fragments, the castle’s reinforced gate came into view. Tall enough for a giant to enter, thick enough to defend against one’s punch, and with enough runes and glyphs inscribed into the exterior to nullify most uses of magic.

Leland had been a kid the last time he was here. Back then, he was Legacy less, meaning he had no magic. So when he entered the castle’s anti-magic field, the shock of muted magic chilled his skin. He tried, and failed, to spark any kind of spell. Mana moved around his body with ease, though nothing came of it.

The gates parted for them to enter and a hulking behemoth of a man stood in their way. Silently he glanced from them to the side room, obviously stewarding the way to Aunty P.

“Good to see you again, Issac,” Isobel said to the man. “How’s castle detail?”

The man didn’t respond and only glared at her. She took the hint and followed Leland into the side room.

Fit with everything a multi-generational monarchy could hope to show off, the room was like a mirrored reality to the events unfolding outside. From intact and tablecloth covered tables, to folded napkins beside spotless knives and floral designed plates and bowls. There were no torn paintings, nor a speck of dust. The ground, while somewhat spotted from the sheer amount of foot traffic heading in and out of the room, was devoid of blood and bodies.

Well, partially at least.

There was blood on the floor, but it was hidden under Aunty P’s chair and behind a frown that could cause foreign heads of state to push for war.

Dressed in all black padded leather, Aunty P sat alone in the room at a fully set dining table. Her section of plates and cutlery had been pushed aside for stacks of papers and dozens of crumbled sections of parchment. Notes and reports, not that she cared to look at them. She knew everything they said, having heard the exchanges from grunt to officer to captain herself.

Blood seeped from a, now healed, cut along her forehead. Red streaked down into her eye and cheek, but she didn’t seem to mind. And while surprising, neither Leland nor Isobel cared to give it more than a cursory glance.

Not when Sybil was in the room.