My clothes were patted down, each pocket and crevice checked. The same went for Shena and Remy, who offered their staves and other weapons, including pocket daggers and the weird urn.

Angus Grey’s eyes went wide as he examined it. “Urn of the undead!” he called. “Filled to the brim with souls. What sorcery is this!”

“That,” Remy said, “is proof of our year’s work.”

Remy’s makeup was redone. I could feel the elegant aura around her, though she was a little nervous. She was trained in the ways of this world in courtesies I didn’t even know existed. Thus, we hoped she would offer our group of hooligans some much-needed credibility.

Angus’s look went from concerned to angry. “This is far too dangerous to bring inside city walls! You should all be charged alongside the Wyvern Slayer for as much as attempting to bring undead inside the temple!”

“Only a necromancer can make any use of these souls,” Remy argued. “The urn is no different to a swordsman carrying a glyphsword, or a mage carrying their staff. Without a wielder, the urn and the souls inside are as secure as the moons in the sky.”

“No,” Angus said. “This is different. Were the urn to be opened, an army of undead would swarm the temple.”

“This is exactly what we intend to do,” Remy said. “Only, instead of attacking our allies, our undead army could be used for far more useful purposes.”

Angus’s apprehension remained.

“Constable,” Remy said. She lowered her head, holding her hands together as a show of respect. “The temple is the most secure place in all of Kroses Sol. Everyone and anyone knows this. The urn is a danger, we are aware of this. A mere swarm of undead has no chance of overpowering the Temple’s defenses. The urn is a necessary item we wish to show the King.”

“The urn will be safekept in my guards’ hands,” Angus said. “This is a precaution I will have to make in case this is a ploy. Attempt to reach it, and you will be killed in an instant.”

Remy offered a curtsy. “Thank you.”

The guards double checked our clothes for weapons and traps with superficial attention to detail. I knew we had no chance to ever harm the King. We were the ones stepping into a trap. The King alone could have fought us three to one, and we would have lost. Still, I couldn’t complain. In the royalty's eyes, we were three unpredictable and dangerous mages.

I quickly learned that the checkup was only the beginning of the utterly insane safety measures.

A march of footsteps announced Daphine Belyris’s return. A small convoy of guards in steel and staves walked after her. She faced us as the marching guards formed a full circle around our position. The formation locked in place, blocking our escape from all sides.

“The King agreed to hear your proposal, outsider,” Belyris said. “I will remind you to watch your manners. His Majesty is not lax with forgiveness. And as your future commander, neither am I.”

Remy offered a bow. Shena and I awkwardly mimicked the action, struggling, but giving our best. We could have stood still to avoid embarrassing ourselves, but this particular plan benefited from our honesty. Oftentimes, the best method to make oneself sincere was to totally fail at an honest gesture.

The convoy escorted us into the temple with an imposing march. The guards’ mere footsteps were filled with purpose and practice, all the while my unpracticed self did its best to maintain composure and posture.

The same scarily decorated foyer and hallways blurred past. Sweat beaded on my forehead, but that could always be blamed on heat.

I glanced at Remy for guidance, only to catch her taking breaths. She kept her eyes straight and composed, not allowing herself to glance at the chandeliers and art pieces, yet the palace clearly made her nervous. Feeling my eyes on her, she fixed her step, forcing herself to stand tall.

Hell. Remy was looking at me for reassurance. I was the man leading this damn boat.

The convoy eventually led us to the double doors before the throne room. The circle of guards reformed at the entrance, shaping a U before the opening doors with us in the middle. Daphine Belyris stepped in first without waiting for us to catch our breaths.

We walked the red carpet with our own little battle formation. Remy and I at the front, Shena close behind. We had decided this was the best approach to take. Remy was a noble, someone who was trained to act in formal situations. I was the main dish for the King’s tangled plans. The two of us would do best at the center of attention.

The formation fell apart the instant King Xastur’s glare landed upon us.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Remy paused by the hostile intent behind the King’s frown, much the same way I had. Our approach froze in place. The air in the room had changed. The King wasn’t playing around anymore.

It’s okay, I thought. I grabbed Remy’s hand and forced a smile. Then, I turned to the King, resuming our march with lackluster steps.

We kneeled at the end of the carpet, offering ourselves in the perfect view for the King to judge. To his left and behind stood Ausrine and her team of healers, acting as bodyguards. To his right stood Prince Vitek, observant and adding to the King’s presence.

“Cillian Bermeyer…” the King said. “Explain. What is the meaning of this scheme?”

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” I said. “I have come to accept your offer. I wish to thank you for the kind reception.”

“Quit the nonsense,” the King said. “Your poor manners will not weave you into my good sides. What I asked was a simple question. Why have these stragglers appeared in my throne room?”

Skipping the small talk, I thought. Naturally so. The King was a busy and impatient man. I had to place my bets quickly. I kept my head high but didn’t smile; the situation required seriousness.

“Me and my team will join the quest to hunt for Azetoth,” I said. “Additionally, we wish to hold yesterday’s missed audience. The Wyvern Slayer’s team has spent months preparing plans, ones that cannot be left forgotten.”

“Nonsense,” the King said with a dream-breaking grimace. “It appears there has been a misconnection in your head, young mage. My offer stands for you, and you only. Daphine has made this very clear. I do not wish to hire nor enslave adventurers. These stragglers are to be led out of the temple. Now.”

“These stragglers,” I said calmly but with volume, “are the mages that defeated first Archpriest Rigrith.”

Eyebrows rose all around the audience. Daphine Belyris flinched. The King himself paused, and so did the guards tasked with escorting Remy and Shena.

“Well,” the King eventually said. He frowned at Remy, then at Shena, both of whom appeared uncomfortable. “An interesting claim. One that doesn’t appear to make a lot of sense. Tell me, mages, what might your identities be?”

“Remyer Ravilles,” Remy said with a bow. “Third daughter and an independent mage of the second caliber.”

“Ravilles,” the King said. “A mediocre house amongst the endless nobles of Vulusen. Your lineage does not impress, and neither do your abilities.” He looked at Shena.

“Shena Benneft, Your Majesty,” Shena said. “A self-taught mage and a sworn enemy of Azetoth.”

“An escapee,” the King said. “Your kind is not allowed in the palace. I am ashamed to make this exception.”

Shena bowed, offering no response.

The King’s frown landed back on me. “Your mages are as average as fighters get. Skilled, perhaps, but never special. If you have managed to defeat the first Archpriest of Azetoth, this only shows the cultists’ weakness.”

“Our abilities are useless on their own,” I said. “This includes my powers. We excel in teamwork. Rigrith was not defeated fair and square. He fell to tricks that were meticulously prepared by our criminal gang. The man who dealt the final blow was our leader, Darko.”

“A leader, whose crimes have nothing to show but distrust,” the King said. “Your group may be strong and proficient with teamwork and luck. For any achievement you wish to list, a crime has been committed.”

“Every one of Darko’s crimes can be explained,” I said. “Everything he has done has been for the good of—”

“Cillian,” the King said with power that was impossible to speak over. “It is clear you do not understand my words. A day’s trip from us, a war could break any moment. I have decided to delay my convoy for half a day to sort out the hit party for Azetoth’s mess, and to offer you time to consider. I do not intend to spend a moment more sorting this waste. You, Cillian, will join Daphine’s leadership, and nobody else.”

Crap, I thought, wishing to bite my lip. The King admitted, in front of all his guests, that he wouldn’t change his mind. To do otherwise would show weakness on his part. My earlier statement had been far too weak, not nearly important enough to offer any value in the negotiation. I’d wasted the opportunity for any further buildup I had wished to make.

I would have to bring out the real tools.

“Drag them out,” the King said. “I do not wish to see these mages again.”

“Jordan Feryah,” I stated.

The King’s eyes snapped at me.

“Is this name familiar to you?” I asked. “Last I heard, this fugitive has kidnapped Princess Alyce.”

The King held up his hand to bring pause to the guards once again. Genuine anger flared on his face, all of it directed at me. My legs wished to collapse and submit. I swore I could feel a further power from his emotions, as if the King’s stare alone filled the air with murderous pressure.

Still, I stood tall. The King’s blinding anger was good.

“Why do you mention this name?” the King asked.

“We know Jordan Feryah’s last whereabouts,” I said. “We know his goals. We know his association. We have even engaged him in combat, just yesterday. All of this is information we are willing to offer.”

The King’s grimace remained. He was furious, as I had hoped. Anyone whose daughter had been kidnapped would share the reaction.

“On top of everything I’ve already offered—” I put up the most serious face I ever had. “—my team’s loyal cooperation to defeat Azetoth, the Wyvern Slayer’s month-long plans, and the money to pay our debts—we also offer our knowledge regarding Jordan Feryah, and our plans to capture him to his rightful place in prison, saving Princess Alyce. All we ask in return is fifteen minutes of audience, and for our leader to be freed of charges.”