The newly renovated Royal Court of Morganium sat high above the city like a perching seagull, an ivory tower that gazed upon fields of undead, pizzerias and chicken daycare centers, bakeries and botanicals. The court was an intimate room, with a throne made of bone—by Valerica’s suggestion—a tea table made of sinew—by Valerica’s suggestion—and, finally, a cat bed, suggested by, actually… you can guess who. There were also a few regular chairs strewn about the place, in case anyone actually cared to sit and discuss something.

Radu dragged one of those chairs to the very center of the room, straddled it backwards and slung his scaly arms over the wood. He was wearing his ceremonial Dragon wear—a feathered cap, a fake beak that was strung along his neck like a discarded pandemic mask, and gold and silver jewelry that stuck out of his scales like exposed nails. Momo hadn’t seen him in quite awhile, and she noticed a new exhaustion about him. A tiredness that wore at his usual boyish charm.

The natural consequences of becoming a monarch.

“Sheesh. You look like you could sleep through an earthquake,” Momo whispered, pulling up a chair next to him. He just glared at her, sighed, and hung his head over the chair.

“Is this everyone?” Sumire said, yawning.

The Military Advisor was sitting on the boney throne, legs kicked over it like it was a beach chair. She had an unfurled map of Alois extended between her hands, studying it carefully as the line of invited guests crawled into the room. The grand, gold-plated doorway clicked with a magical lock as the last person entered—or, well, the last chicken, as it was now customary to bring the little birds to all events of importance, and non-importance.

In attendance were Momo’s most trusted officials: Teddy, the shapeshifter that had been wearing her face for the past few months, keeping up appearances—literally and figuratively—while she was away; Radu, Dragon-in-Training and noted Friend of the Queendom, and finally, Viktor Mole, former Mayor of Mole City and the capital’s newly appointed Chief Chicken Engineer.

Grimli was also there, sitting silently and enjoying the fact that they had finally remembered to fetch him from outside the city walls.

“Yeah, this is everyone,” Momo said, hopping off her chair and clapping. She turned to face all of the attendants. “Thanks for coming, guys. Also, it’s nice to see you.”

“Gods is it good to see you, Momo,” Teddy groaned. His skin was more wrinkled than usual, folded up like a creased leather bag—a consequence of too much polymorphing. “If I had to walk around in your body a day longer, I was about to suffer a mental break. And a physical one, too. Did you know one of your legs is a little longer than the other? It’s terrible.”

Momo frowned. “Um… no. Sorry, I guess?”

He shrugged. “Eh. Been through worse. Once I had to spend an entire week as a horse.”

She blinked at him, trying to find the words. She failed.

“Okay… moving on,” she said, turning to Sumire. “Mire, are you ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Momo blushed as Sumire strolled up to her. The pirate splayed the map on the floor and ran her thumb down the center. Momo had never seen such a detailed map of Alois before yesterday, when Sumire had taken it out of one of her treasured glass bottles and taught her a lesson in Aloisian geography. You see, the map was all-encompassing: it spanned all the way from Aloysius to the Vagrant Dunes, detailing the small islands in the middle, and the northern landmasses that Momo had yet to explore by ship or on foot.

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Just above the Vagrant Dunes was another large stretch of land, but it was separated from the lower continent by an uncrossable body of water called the Poison Belt. Sumire had explained to her that the Poison Belt wrapped around the circumference of the planet, dividing the globe into two portions: the Lower Waters, where Aloysius and the Dunes sat, and the Higher Waters, where the Elven Empire and the Orcish Mists were.

Also situated in the High Waters, just west of the Elven Empire, was a stretch of islands called the Inhabitables. They weren’t actually inhabitable, as the name might suggest, but highly fertile, lush landscapes; the only problem was… they were cursed by the Gods, Sumire explained. Long ago, an ancient pact was made by several deities of the pantheon to protect the place from ever being disturbed. Until now, at least.

“Every damn tome I read says the same thing—no one can break through the pact protecting the Inhabitables,” Sumire said, circling the islands with her fingertip. “But our spies come back with the same information every time. They see Jarva’s boats float towards the Poison Belt, disappear, and suddenly reappear on the shores of the islands. Like they’re using some sort of teleportation witchery.”

“I don’t see why it matters what dumb island the octopus is hiding out on,” Teddy said. “It’s like Momo told us: the plan is to lure him here: hook, line, sinker.”

“It matters because if he was able to infiltrate the Inhabitables, then he has access to some kind of… special magic. A potential advantage,” Sumire grumbled. “I don’t like potential advantages.”

Momo rubbed the other woman’s back.

“There there, Miss. Mopey Military Advisor,” she said, grinning. “I’ve never once been up against an enemy who didn’t have the upper hand. It’s kind of my whole shebang.”

“I don’t understand that silly word—shebang,” Sumire said, toying the syllables around in her mouth. Momo thought her Barium Sea accent made it even cuter. “Do all earthlings just go around inventing silly words like that?”

“I could say the same, you know.”

“To get back on topic,” Radu said, sighing. “We were discussing how to lure Jarva into invading Morganium prematurely. Sumire suggested human sacrificing that captured Knight of the Sun Gorim in the city square, which Momo vetoed, thank you Momo… Teddy was saying—”

“—that we should just not bother with all that luring business, and just go find out what’s so special about those islands ourselves, maybe there’s some treasure there—”

“Thank you Teddy,” Radu said dryly, cutting him off. “But what me and Viktor propose, as much as it pains me physically to agree with Viktor, is that Momo…”

“Resigns,” Viktor says brightly. “And leaves the city to me.”

“Which would be a show of such disturbing stupidity,” Sumire interjected grimly, “that the holy squid will have no other choice but to take the opportunity? Yeah, I don’t buy it. Not to mention it would ruin months of Momo’s hard work in getting the people to her side. I’m not letting her do that.”

“No chance I’m letting myself do that, either,” Momo said, frowning. “I ran away from this job twice now. I’m not doing it again. We’re going with Sumire’s idea.”

“I’m sorry, human sacrifice is somehow more noble than abandoning office?” Radu balked.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Momo said, throwing a hand up. “Sumire, can you please tell them what you told me?”

The three of them turned expectantly towards the pirate-knight, who grinned wide. From beside her map, she took a book out of her satchel. It was a thick, gruesome tome. On the front, emblazoned in gold lettering was the title: A Holy Knight’s Duties, Expectations, and Vows.

“Just a little something from my days as one of Jarva’s watch dogs…” she drawled. She turned to page two-hundred and three, which had been bookmarked. “Quick, pop quiz—do you all know how many Knights of the Sun there are?”

“Eight,” Radu quickly piped up.

“Nerd,” Momo said. But he was right, she realized, recalling the invasion on the Revenge. Gorim announced that he was the eighth and final member of Kyros’s Excaliburs.

“Yes. Good,” Sumire said, then proceeded to read from the page. “Vow twenty six. When a Holy Knight is admitted to the Circle of the Sun, he becomes one of Jarva’s eight tendrils. A part of his soul is fused with that of the king, and when he is cut—so is the king. When he bleeds, so does the master. So if you are bleeding, do not wither, end it swiftly, or end yourself.”

A momentary silence passed over the room, all eyes drifting slowly from Sumire to Momo.

“Momo,” Radu said, eyes widening slowly. “What on Alois are you planning?”

Momo’s face heated, and she evaded his judgemental gaze.

“Come on,” she mumbled. “What’s a little tiny bit of torture for a good cause?”

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