Once the glyphs orbiting him dimmed and fell to the floor, Salazar grabbed the purse of money and left the recording room without a word. Once he was fully out of earshot, Xiao turned on Yang. “You didn’t tell me Horan was here! I thought Salazar just had a bad day, why didn’t you say anything to me about who he was after?”
The couch Yang was sitting on was quite comfortable, but she suddenly felt like she was sitting on a bed of nails. “I j- It’s… I didn’t think it was a big deal, okay?”
“So you’re stopping them from leaving the city?” Xiao ran a hand through his hair. The part of the head where hair was expected to be, that was. “I don’t… You were fine when we first got inside the castle, but now… Is there some kind of curse here? Should I be worried?”
Yang caved. “Okay. I’m out of the bag, might as well figure this whole thing out.” She got up from where she was sitting. “C’mon, I think the conference hall is this way.”
-
‘Conference hall’ did not do the room justice. Seven ash-black wooden thrones, each big enough to cradle a boat and elevated to the height of skyscrapers, were arrayed in a single row behind a twenty-foot wooden barricade, calling to mind a courtroom. On the other side of the ocean’s worth of carpeting on the floor, an enormous map perfectly covered the far wall. A small distance from a dot labeled ‘TRAGNIL’, a large, red X had been drawn, about as far from Tragnil as the city was from the Pillar.
Yang only realized upon entering that this was the first time she had actually looked at what her source told her was the thing the Primoi were after. “Huh. This is what they’re after? A map? Is it whatever the ‘X’ is? Are they treasure hunters now?”
She put a hand to the map, which immediately shrank and fell off of the wall. Yang flinched when the small rolled-up scroll that the map had turned into. “...Okay.”
Xiao picked up the map. “So, how do you even know that this is what they want? Seems kinda random, y’know?”
“Oh, I, uh… I heard them talk about it. When we first took over. They were in the crowd.”
Xiao sighed. “And you didn’t tell me even then?”
“N-uh… No. I didn’t.”
“Yeah, okay.” Xiao set the map down against the wall. “How about this? I don’t think the idea of running an entire city like this is so good for you, mentally and all that. I say we deal with this one thing, and then… Dunno. I know we’ve been trying to pull something like this off for a while, but I really think the stress of this is getting to you.”
Yang took a step away from Xiao. “Wh- Come on! We might not ever get a chance like this again! A whole city, just wide open for us, and you want me to just throw it away?! We can worry about the minutiae later, we’ve still got work to do!”
“Just…” Xiao closed his eyes and sighed. “Why is this even a problem? Why can’t we just give the map up? We’re not gonna use it for anything, why not just take the easy wa-”
“You think it’s that easy?!” Yang snapped. “It’s never as simple as that! These are the people who brought Erlani down like it was nothing, who went toe-to-toe with Thel! If we’re close enough to negotiate, we’re already dead! We only have a chance of beating them if we do it on our…”
Xiao wasn’t listening to any of what Yang was saying. Eyes wide and mouth just barely open, he took several steps back, grabbed the map from where he had put it down, and ran out of the room without a word.
Yang watched the doorway that her friend had left through. After a moment of motionlessness, she collapsed onto the carpet. Without any warning, her head felt like it was being pulled apart at the seams. Her vision swam in a blue haze. What was she thinking? Why would she cut Xiao off like that? They didn’t yell at each other? Where had that come from?
…But did those questions make what she had said any less wrong? This was a tense situation. She was a rank-and-file demon going up against Primoi. The situation was delicate, and Xiao just needed some time to cool off to see that. Besides, he didn’t know what he was doing. He had never commanded an army, he had no part to play in taking over Tragnil. He was nothing more than…
He was Yang’s friend. Her vision cleared and her migraine receded from her mind. She was permitted to stand, now given a chance to think things through and calm down.
-
The monster on the street’s assessment of where the group could find help was not inaccurate. Visible even through the miasma of ambient magic that enveloped and was enveloped by the ravine-like single street of Sinkhole, the casino was a blaze of yellow light.
The individual letters of the massive ‘LAND OF KINGS’ sign hanging over the maw of the building were subtly etched with glyphs that granted the letters a painfully bright phosphorescence. On the other side of the wide-open entrance was a haze of red and gold, a vortex of noise and motion. Hundreds of raggedy, malnourished monsters clamored around tables, holding up bags of money which were happily snatched up by the attendants.
Once the five were inside, the ‘haze’ descriptor for the casino faded away, and the truth became much more obvious. Garbage littered the floor. Shriveled and broken monsters lay curled up under the tables. One fish-like creature with butterfly wings and eight legs landed on the neck of another monster, piercing them with eight blades attached to each of their legs. Once their prey had stopped moving, the attacker pulled a bag of money from the dead monster’s grasp and flew away with the reward hanging from their grip like the basket of a hot air balloon. Another, taller monster with ‘Security’ painted onto his shirt did not look down at the corpse as he walked by. He simply pulled the corner of his cloak away from the pool of blood, hard to notice against the red carpet.
Horan examined the scene. His speech was quick, curt. “Talk to the boss, get out.”
“Yup.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’m liking that.”
“We can’t bet with liquid gold, right?”
Omet nudged Waia for her comment.
“Kidding, kidding.” Waia walked up to the passing security. “Hey, we’re looking for the King.”
The guard’s numerous bug eyes flicked down in unison, examining Waia. When he got to the shirt, he paused in recognition. “Right, you.” He looked back at the other four. “They with you?”
“Yup.”
The guard stepped to the side. “Not gonna stop you. Fifth floor balcony, two more guards. If any of them turn you back, don’t tell them I gave you directions.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Waia motioned for the others to follow.
The staircases to the upper floors were guarded by toll gates, but the attendants running the barriers didn’t much feel like putting up with an angry Waia, and little resistance was offered. As they ascended, the casino became less litter-strewn, the monsters’ appearances looked less like medieval plague victims and more like… slightly more well-fed medieval plague victims. At the fifth floor, most of the patrons even displayed some degree of wealth.
When the group finally reached the guarded door, the two guards hesitantly permitted access inside. The door was small enough that, even when shifted into their human forms, the Primoi had to practically crawl to fit inside. Mark decided to take up the rear when the two guards followed them all inside.
Inside, a hallway that was just long enough to feel uncomfortable to walk through led to a second, larger door, which had the words ‘THE KING IS IN’ bolted to the frame in golden sheets. On either side of the hallway were paintings of the exact same stumpy, human-ish mound of mottled gray flesh bedecked in the exact same set of way-too-much jewelry, in the exact same pose, with the exact same expression on his face. One would assume that the King had just ordered a dozen copies of the same portrait, but slight variations in posture, position of jewelry and lighting indicated that each one had been painted on a different occasion.
Horan examined the decor. “Okay. Classic…” He turned his head, gauged his distance from the two guards tailing them and lowered his voice accordingly. “Classic egomaniac, that’s what I’m picking up. Just play to his vanity, don’t act like you’re in charge, let him feel smart. Easy pickings.”
“Let’s just hope he’s of the ‘still sane’ variety of one percent,” muttered Mark.
The other side of the door was surprisingly modest, at least given what the prior rooms would lead one to expect. A single bed hung suspended from golden ropes high above, with what the ropes were actually attached to invisible through the darkness engulfing the hypothetical ceiling. The bed was neatly made, but everything else about its make indicated a general lack of upkeep. That was likely because there didn’t seem to be any obvious means of accessing the bed, at least not an intentional means. The mountain of money probably worked just fine though.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Tens of thousands of pillars of coins were heaped in the middle of the otherwise nigh-featureless room. The individual slivers neatly interlocked with each other thanks to the ridges built into either side of them, creating perfect cylinders that easily reached ten feet in height. Pillows had been arrayed on the building-sized pile, allowing for easy traversal across without actually touching the money. At the very top of the mountain of cash, the same doughy gray blob depicted in the portraits outside was reclining in a depression in the upper stacks which formed the shape of a throne, seemingly illuminated by a spotlight that was in the same boat as the bed’s ropes. About half a dozen monsters wearing frayed, filthy clothes lounged on the surrounding pillows, listening raptly to what the King was saying while showing off unnervingly wide smiles.
“So there I am, harpoon in one hand and my dad’s head in the other, right at the edge of the cliff,” said the King. “And this is actually where the harpoon comes in for real, because my dad’s blood in the waves summons an Agnaeon, bigger than any other out there. This thing must’ve been the size of the Pillar! But when it sees me with the harpoon at the ready, it just has nine heart attacks, one for each heart, and dies of fear! And then I suplex its soul until it’s dead, just to be sure.”
Horan watched the light from the spotlight above hit the money and scintillate in a hypnotic dance of flashing lights. “A random casino owner gets to live like this?!”
The King jerked at the unexpected sound and knocked over a stack of coins by his feet. The column crumbled, only for the individual coins to cleanly interlock with the tops of the surrounding stacks with the electric rattle of two magnets colliding. The King looked down at the five visitors. “Hey, who let these guys into my man cave?!” Now that he was more alert, it became apparent how awfully shrill his voice was. “Who even are you? Don’t touch my stuff!”
Horan winced and thought for a moment, then pushed Waia forward while wind-speaking into her ear. “Confident, but not assertive. Breezy Slide.”
Waia elected to ignore that part at the end, and least for now. “Hey, uh, evening. Name’s Waia. You might’ve seen me on the news or something.”
The King’s tiny black eyes widened. “Oh! Oh! It’s you! I’m your biggest fan, I saw you on my glyphs!” He scrabbled out of his coin-throne, sending the structure crashing down. “Potage, fix that.”
While one of the other monsters set about re-stacking the coins into a throne, the King grabbed a pillow and used it as a sled to ride halfway down the pile. “Show me the thing! The thing with the glowy hands!”
Waia looked at the others for support, receiving only shrugs as a response. “Okay…” She looked down. Hopefully, the floor was real marble and not just linoleum. She plunged her foot into the floor and pushed it down into a six-inch-deep crater. The red-hot liquid she formed slithered up her leg like water, flowing over her back, onto her left arm and extended slightly outwards. In less than three seconds, she had turned a section of the floor into a molten tentacle.
The King squealed and clapped. “Ooh, you’re amazing! How do you do that? Is it magic?” He gasped. “Are you a Primus?!”
“Y-Um, uh-huh.” Waia was starting to get worried that the King was a child, however that worked for monsters. He was certainly giving her those vibes, and she was not liking that.
The King’s smile fell. “I thought you were supposed to be really big. Why are you so tiny?” He looked up at Horan, Omet and Quet. “And what are those guys, then?”
Horan had told Waia to be confident, but she was simply at a loss for words. Instead, she just shifted into her true form.
Realization dawned on the King’s face. “Oh, yeah, that makes way more sense.” He began scooping up money from the nearby stacks. “How much to get you to stay here? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? You can have this whole pile, I’ve got more money in the back.”
“H… Um… One thing I should…” Waia stepped back and pushed Horan forward into her place. “Tag out, tag out.”
That was fine with Horan. Waia had given him just enough time to get a proper bead on the King. “Evening, Mr. King. Is it fine if I call you that?”
“Oh, no, Mr. King was my father’s name. You can just call me King.”
“Oh, really?” Horan relaxed his posture. The King wasn’t looking for a formal conversation. “If you don’t mind me asking, if King is your family name, what might your first name be?” That was how surnames worked, right?
“The.”
Horan tried his best not to look taken off-guard. “Alright then. Well, my name is Horan, and me and my buddies here need your help.”
The King straightened up on his pillow. “A deal, then. Interesting. There’s no need to speak in such a manner, we’re all adults here. Potage, go get these fine people something to drink.”
The monster fixing the money throne stood up, but immediately stopped when the King held up a three-fingered hand. “Uh-uh. Throne isn’t done, now, is it? Why do we have the new guy, Potage?”
Without saying anything, Potage pulled a meek, confused-looking monster over to the throne and set them to continue the job of stacking coins, after which he slid down the pile and made for the exit.
Alright then. The King could tell when it was time to get to business. Horan liked that. “Great, thank you. I can always appreciate a good host. I assume you’re aware of the recent takeover of the castle that former… ly…” He stopped.
The King had completely tensed up, his formerly loose and soft skin tightening into a vascular facsimile of some kind of comical muscular cartoon baby. His breathing became faster and louder, only to be silenced by his following words. “Actually, Potage, forget the drinks. Come back over here.”
Potage, who had almost left the room, visibly winced and turned around. He plodded back to the pile and began an arduous upward climb. While the monster was on his way up to the King, Horan attempted to continue the conversation, only to be immediately shushed by his host.
Potage reached where the King was sitting and immediately braced himself for something. Without looking, the King slammed his little fist into his attendant’s face, who immediately jumped back and tumbled back down the pile in a clearly exaggerated reaction. The fall to the ground still clearly did a number on him, though. A few dozen coins lay sprinkled on his barely-moving body.
The King made a half-hearted attempt at regaining his composure. “New guy, go fix that. Throne can wait.” He looked back down at the five guests while the small monster hurriedly passed by Potage on their way out. “Do you know why they call me the king of crime?”
Horan made another attempt to get another word in. “Wait, is your name The King, but your title-”
“Because I am the king of crime!” The King began to crawl back upward on the pile, never once taking his eyes off of the people below him. “I’ve got all of Sinkhole wrapped around my li…” He looked at his three fingers for a moment. “Whichever one of my fingers is smallest. My family’s been sucking up the people who couldn’t make it with all the rules up top and pulling them into my casino for decades. The Leviathans up top sometimes just use me as a bank, I’ve already got all the money. I’ve pretty much got my own personal army down there, too. Half the people in my joint are just enterprising adventurers trying to drum up enough money to buy a ticket to your pocket of existence. And I’ll always be the best place to get rich down here. All money in Sinkhole enters this pile at some point, I’ve made sure of that.”
“C-cool, yeah. Being rich is fun.” Horan was starting to regret being so willing to tag in for Waia.
“So imagine my surprise when a random foreigner shows up with one of your kind and just walks into the one thing that would make me even richer. You can imagine that, right? How surprised I would be with such a development?”
“Yup. Mm-hmm. Quite a predicament.” Quet pushed past Horan, who gladly gave up his spot. He was just as stumped as anyone else by this guy. Quet might as well give it a shot, in her own Quet-ish way.
The King reached his unfinished money throne. “Oh, a new one. And what do you do?” He kicked over one of the ‘armrests’ and slid back down into the rest of the pile. “Yeah, that’s not working for me. Someone get to making that right.”
“Well, uh…” Quet held up one of her bags. “Magic, mostly. But we’re mostly just here to see if you’re willing to help us get into the castle Horan- over there- mentioned earlier.”
The King absent-mindedly picked up a small stack of coins and pulled it apart like a fortune cookie. “Eh. Running my casino’s a lot of work. You sure you wanna handle a whole city?”
“Wh- You just said-” Quet decided that pushing that part wasn’t worth it. “Actually, we aren’t interested in taking over anything. We’re looking for help with some stuff we’ve got going on, and in exchange, we’re willing to help stick you in there.”
“Eh. Seems hard. What else is in it for me?”
“Well…” Quet rubbed the back of her head. “The castle seems like plenty by itself. You don’t even need to do most of the work, we just need a way to get in. From every angle I can picture, this seems like a pretty solid deal for you.”
“That so?” The King dropped what little was left of the stack he had picked up. “Because this does seem like a good deal. Tell me, Quet, what exactly are you trying to get out of this that would let you pass up an opportunity?”
The fact that the King knew her name sent alarm bells going off in the heads of everyone else in the room. Quet, on the other hand, seemed largely unfazed. “Well, we’re only involved in all this for personal reasons. We’re looking for a map needed to rescue my family. Aside from that, we just want to get out of this city. Money and power aren’t really factors here, especially for Primoi.”
“Mm-hmm, I’ve heard. My guys downstairs have ears all over Tragnil. I know your money-blood deal.” The King noticed the new guy reenter the room, now carrying a tray of drinks. “Ah, you’re back. Come on up here, you can serve me first.”
The new guy was halfway up the money pile when a single coin fell through a hole in their pocket and attached itself to a stack below them. The other monsters further up heard the rattle and saw the new guy freeze, put two and two together and all turned to look at the King, terrified.
The King did not seem particularly surprised or angry at the event. He watched the new guy stare down at the coin in shock and confusion, then touched a glyph on one of his numerous amulets.
A row of glyphs on the new guy’s forehead briefly glowed with the typical multicolored light. In the blink of an eye, the new guy turned into a puddle of green sludge and flowed back down to the bottom of the pile.
All five guests recoiled with a collective “Whoa!” Their concerns were partially drowned out by the sound of the tray and accompanying glasses crashing to the floor.
Quet looked back up at the King. “What was that for?!”
The King shrugged. “It’s pretty simple. Nobody. Steals. From. Me.” He leaned back on his pillow. “I’m not especially partial to funny business. You got that?”
“I…” Quet faced the King, but kept her eyes planted on the puddle which was coming concerningly close to touching her. “Yeah, cool. Wasn’t planning on it. But, um, you still haven’t said whether or not you’re down to help us out with this. Still seems like a good deal.”
The King sighed and walked back up to his money throne, talking all the while. “You know what? My interest’s been piqued. I’ll give it some time, think it over, and get back to you once I’ve made a decision. Shouldn’t take too long.” He sat back on the half-finished money throne. “And you don’t need to come back here or anything. I’ll call you.”
Mark decided to take his turn. “So is that-”
“I said, you can go now.” The King pointed at the door with an exposed toe.
Mark sighed. “Fine. We’re done anyway.”
While everyone turned to leave, Waia released the lava coalesced around her arm back into the hole in the floor. “Felt like you might want that back.” She left with all the others.