“You know what Darko’s plan involves, right?” I asked. “You’ve got the weird urn, still. It’s a big part of plans, right?”

“I know some of the plans,” Shena said. “The actual important details are all tucked away in Darko’s head. And knowing Darko, those important bits do not actually exist yet.”

“Ah…” I said. “Well, the general idea will be enough, as long as we can promise the King we have more to share. If you can explain how the urn works, and what it will be used for, I’m positive we can convince the King.”

The girls watched me with curiosity. I shared their emotions. I was talking right now? Seriously? This voice belonged to me?

“We are limited in our approach for the simple reason that our adversary is an omnipotent King,” I said. “If he disagrees, he disagrees. If he deems us criminals, he has to flick a finger and we’re fucked. The King wants to recruit me, and he believes he has me under his fingertips. He will not budge on his proposal. Offering anything less is an insult. Thus, we have to offer more.”

I explained the plan in detail, although in reality, the speech consisted mostly of haphazard ideas that could have possibly been used to convince the King. I had nothing concrete yet. Determination was what made me sound convincing. And as Shena and Remy wished to achieve the very thing I was proposing, getting them to listen was easy.

“A large issue is our lack of credibility,” I said. “The King will not trust anyone connected to Darko. Do you know what happened to Rigrith? Is he alive?”

“Rigrith is very much dead,” Shena said. “Unless the cult knows how to resurrect people whose heads were pierced by swords.”

I nodded. “We will use this. Anything to hint at our credibility will be used to build our worth. If you can sneak subtle praises of your victories against the cult into your sentences, please do.”

My line of thought came to a pause, and I noticed Remy staring at me with the type of look that held meaning behind it. “What is it?” I asked.

“What happened?” Remy asked. “Are you really the same person?”

“Ah,” I said with a vague laugh. “I’ll be back to my miserable self tomorrow, don’t worry. I used to be a tradesperson in my old life, that’s all.”

Remy pouted at me but didn’t say what was on her mind. I let her keep the secrets for now.

The planning continued as we went back and forth with ideas, slowly evolving the dream of saving Darko into something that could have possibly been executed. I didn’t know if I was confident in the plan actually working, but I sure as hell felt like I had to try.

“This could work…” Shena said, tapping her fingers against her staff. “I don’t think the result will quite be what Darko intended, but if we do succeed, this is better than forgetting our prior work. What about you, Remy? Do you think you can handle this?”

Remy sat still, then snorted. “Shena. I may have nearly died and cried about it a little. Does that make me worthless to the team? I hope not.”

“If we move on, we might just get more of what we experienced yesterday,” Shena said.

Remy sighed. She picked up her box of makeup. “I’m coming. I'd rather die than go back home. My family would never see me as a human if I came back with the results we have now.”

Suddenly, a thump sounded from the back of the carriage. “Cilan Bernmyier,” a woman’s voice called. It was the same rogue woman. My spy, having utterly butchered the enunciation of my name. She did not look happy. “It’s time we head back. Your two hours have been spent thirty minutes ago.”

I glanced at Shena and Remy. We nodded. Then, the three of us stood, Shena carrying our items and the urn.

“Yes,” I said. “We are coming.”

“We?” the spy asked.

“My friends are coming with me,” I said. “Consider this an extra donation of workforce.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

The spy gave us a weird look but didn’t argue. She led us towards the walls and through the toll gates, back towards the imposing temple I had just escaped from.

***

“What happened here?” I asked as we passed a collapsed fruit stall beside a brick-built library on the wealthier side of Arkber. The streets were crowded as curious people examined the fallen stalls and the damage done to the roads. The paved stone was cracked by a trail of footsteps, as if Bigfoot had stomped its way through the streets, creating holes in its wake.

“Darko happened,” Shena said. “There’s a reason why magic and vigor are forbidden inside cities. This is the damage Darko left simply by running at his fullest to bring you to the temple. We’re lucky he didn’t kill anyone.”

Darko did this? Just to save me? I thought in horror. Each hole in the path was larger than the worst potholes in New York.

“City officials are still counting how many marks and months of repairs his damages will cost,” Shena said. “Hopefully our plans are worth more than the hundreds upon hundreds of gold marks Darko is in debt.”

I bit my lip. Darko really didn’t care about his skin, did he? What sane person would go to this extent just to save someone as stupid as me?

My plan wasn’t sane either. In all honesty, calling it a “plan” was overeager. The success of our mission largely revolved around our improvisation. I barely even understood the situation as a whole, and I was somehow supposed to convince a damn medieval King to change his stubborn mind.

All just to save my stupid red-haired leader.

The palace-like temple loomed in the distance. Arkber’s most imposing spires stemmed from temple grounds—the tallest jutted straight through the temple’s tip and into the sky. None were as tall as modern-day skyscrapers, but it sure felt like Sauron’s tower watched our arrival, laughing at any hopes of negotiating with the King.

Maybe Shena was right, I thought. This was stupid. By far our smartest option was to fuck off from the city, never coming back.

But if I chose to give up, I knew I wouldn’t receive a single night of proper rest in my life, knowing that the man who saved my life was imprisoned because he chose to let me live. If I had to imprison myself under royalty’s military service, the least I could ask for was some friends alongside.

The rest of the walk progressed slowly, which most proficient businessmen would take as a blessing. Final preparations were always necessary. In my experience, however, the moments before serious action were the most nerve-wracking. The longer the anticipation lasted, the more time I had to grow into a vegetable incapable of thought.

What helped was the girls’ presence. They trusted me, and they trusted themselves. They were fully in on this, not just following me half-assedly because I claimed I was a genie.

Eventually, the spy escorts led us directly to the front gates, where familiar faces stood on standby. Angus Grey and Daphine Belyris. The spies offered bows before disappearing into the temple grounds, dropping us for the more important personnel to deal with.

I walked up to the two investigators and offered a bow. “I have made my decision,” I said. “We wish to join the King’s team.”

Disapproval filled Daphine Belyris’s features. She glanced at the girls and scowled. “Shena, the escapee,” she said. “Who has allowed you inside Arkber’s walls?”

“Mrs. Belyris,” I said with confidence. Shoulders straight, head up. Such was a polite greeting in the world I trained in, and I hoped my skills translated here. “My team is joining me in the King’s proposal. The three of us will work to pay off our collective debt.”

“Cillian Bermeyer,” Belyris said. Her look told me she was having none of it. “The King has permitted you, and you only, to enter the palace. Your two renegade mages are free to leave.”

“That is unfortunate,” I said. “I am utterly useless without my team. The achievements under my name come with the help of these very mages, who are just as competent with magic as I am. If I join the King in a quest to defeat Azetoth, it’s only natural for my team to be brought with me.”

“This is not a matter for negotiation,” Belyris said. “The Wyvern Slayer has been arrested, and his team disbanded. It is you who the King wishes to see, not straggler adventurers.”

“That is a shame,” I said. “This matter is non-negotiable on my side as well. If my allies are not allowed to introduce themselves and propose their worth, I’m afraid I will have to take back my words. I cannot work under the King.”

“Your debts require to be paid,” Belyris said. “This matter is not as simple as deciding on which path you wish to take.”

“I am not working for the King because I wish to pay off a debt,” I said. “A thousand gold pieces is pocket change for a mage with Hallowed chords. The King can expect payment within the upcoming months, and a lot more to retrieve my items. I wish to join the King for our shared mutual goal: to defeat the cult. If he is not willing to cooperate with this simple request, to hear out the proposals of my team, our success in the hunt for cultists will fare better on our own accord.”

Belyris stared at me in disbelief at the words coming out of my mouth. My spell of nonchalant bullshit was effective.

“Of course, we don’t come empty-handed,” I said. “The team has prepared a plan for months, fighting our enemy from the moment of the cult’s founding. We wish to share our plans with the King and truly work together in defeating Azetoth. I am certain you will wish to hear what we have prepared.”

Belyris frowned, clearly thinking of arguments. She knew she had the authority to walk all over us, but the prideful side of her head refused to simply tell us to screw off. She was a proud arguer who took squabbles as challenges to win. She was also someone who knew when to retreat, to save her arguments for a better opportunity.

“Angus,” Belyris said. “Confiscate their weapons. I will propose the mages’ diversion to the King.”