Olmret tore at the fur on his head, and his teeth gnashed at his recent failure. What’s worse, Skivret’s army was right behind him and now encircled his camp. He didn’t have time to send a message out for reinforcements.

“Damn bastard, using the monster against us,” Olmret said, “Has he no honor?”

“What do we sir?” his steward said.

“I don’t know?”

“Sire!” a soldier ran up to him, “The enemy has a message for you.”

Olmret followed the soldier to the wall. Through the gaps, he could see the army that surrounded them. How did Skivret get metal armor for his soldiers, and those weapons were pristine. Skivret’s troops were nearly five times his own, and with that equipment, victory was out of his reach. Skivret stood at the front.

“What do you want!” Olmret called out.

“I’m here to accept your surrender,” Skivret called back, “Your camp is surrounded. Surrender and I’ll allow you and your followers to leave the sewers unharmed.”

“Are you mad!” Olmret said, spittle hanging down his chin, “There’s no way we can survive out in the wild.”

“That’s how it’s always been,” Skivret said, “You would have done the same thing to Dolbret and Uhlgret, right?”

Olmret sneered, “It’d be my right as king!”

“But you aren’t the king!” Skivret’s laugh echoed off the wall, “You’re a beaten down rat cowering in your nest. You should know, I’ve already sent a message to our father telling him of my victory. I’m heading to Camp Radigalst after this.”

Olmret scratched as his ears. It was only a matter of time before Skivret ordered his soldiers to attack, and then, he would be dead. The thought of his brother as king caused Olmret to draw blood. There had to be a way to turn this around. Skivret stood in front of his army waiting for Olmret’s response, and Olmret smiled.

“Hasn’t there been enough death?” Olmret said, “Let’s keep it between us in one last duel.”

“Very well brother. Let’s end this with one last duel. You have five minutes.”

“I accept,” Olmret said then turned to his men, “Get ready to open the gates, then charge that damn albino.” His smile grew as he drew his sword.

Two soldiers started untying the wall as his remaining army gathered behind him. He waited then nodded at the men to open the gate. The wall parted and he charged forward with his men screaming behind him, but sharp pain blossomed in his neck. Olmret found himself staring at the ceiling of the tunnel. He gasped for breath, but his throat felt clogged with warmth seeping onto his chest. Olmret reached for his neck and felt a wooden shaft. His eyes opened in realization. He heard his men charging and prayed that they at least killed his accursed brother.

“Your ambush was painfully predictable,” Olmret opened his eyes and found his brother looking down at him, “But then, schemes were never your strong suit,” Skivret leaned down and petted his brother. Olmret’s vision started to blur, “Goodbye brother.”

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Skivret watched as his brother took his last breath and he closed his eyes. Skivret’s soldiers moved through Camp Dethkret, finishing off the rest of his brother’s forces. He purposely stepped into the camp as his soldiers gathered the camp citizens together. The citizens trembled in terror.

“Gather what supplies you can,” Skivret said, “We head to Camp Radigalst as soon as we’re fully supplied.”

“What about them?” a soldier said gesturing to the citizens.

“I’m not about to kill my own people,” Skivret said, “As long as they swear loyalty to me then they are free to go about their lives.”

An elderly wererat spat at him, “We’d never swear fealty to a damned redy-eyes.” The others shouted in unison.

Skivret sighed regretfully, “Then you are a threat…kill them.”

“Wait!” a female with a dozen children cried, “Please sire, spare me and my litter. We’ll swear to be loyal, just don’t kill my children.” The others cursed her.

Skivret approached the female, “I swear on my father’s name, no harm will come to you and your kin.”

The female bowed deeply, “Hail King Skivret.”

“Nimble, get her an escort back to camp,” Skivret turned back to the camp, his soldiers finished their task, “Gather men, It’s time to head out.”

Skivret led his soldiers out of the ruined camp. For the first time in his life, Skivret didn’t fear traversing the sewers. Before, he and his people plotted out their routes carefully since his brothers’ forces would attack them, but now, the sewers were theirs. They could move without fear freely, and Skivret’s mouth twitched into a smile.

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Their footsteps echoed through the tunnels scaring the smaller life skirting by. The walls of Camp Radigalst came into view. The direct route made the trip shorter than it normally was. The wall guards pointed their spears at the approaching army.

“Move, now!” Skivret said. The guards stepped aside, shouldering their weapons. “Single file!” Skivret’s army shifted behind him.

They moved through the camp, drawing the eyes of the citizens. The guards eyed them but let them pass unhindered. Skivret led his soldiers purposefully to the king’s palace.

“Wait here,” Skivret ordered his men as he stepped into the palace. Write immediately approached him.

“Prince Skivret, what is the meaning of this!” Write said looking at the soldiers outside.

“My brothers are dead,”

Write’s ears drooped, “I see, then follow me.”

Write led Skivret to the throne room. The King stood in front of his throne wearing a full suit of metal armor and a large sword in his hand. He looked upon his son with both pride and determination. The King’s grip tightened when his son approached.

“So, you were victorious,” the King said.

“Yes father,” Skivret said staring up at his father.

“And now you’ve come for me.”

Skivret’s ears twitched, “Yes,”

“Did you think I would hand over the throne,” the King said, “You may be my son, but you still serve the monster. And I’m not handing my kingdom over to it without a fight.”

“Fine,” Skivret said stepping forward, “Then I’ve come to challenge you for the throne.”

The King turned to Write, “Have the arena made ready, and let everyone know there’s a challenge for the throne.”

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Skivret once again stood in the large reservoir with the crowd looking down on him, but this time his father stood against him. Skivret swung his short sword a few times as he tried shaking off the nerves. The King stood with a calm radiance. The crowd stood on the sides, a tense silence overtaking the arena.

“A challenge has been issued,” Write’s voice echoed, “Prince Skivret seeks to claim the throne from his majesty. Should he prevail, then Skivret shall ascend to the throne and all wererats shall serve him.”

“And all the wererats will serve the monster, Reviled Legion!” Skivret said, chaos erupted from the crows. “We will finally prosper and take our rightful ownership of these sewers!”

“Is that what was promised?” the King called back.

“Yes,”

“When did you become so ambitious?” the King gave a small smile. “We know the stakes Wright, start the match.”

Write gave the signal and a guard struck the gong made from a metal pot.

Skivret gasped as the King shot towards him with the large sword raised high, and he barely jumped out of the way as it struck the stone, but the King didn’t give him any time to recover. Another powerful swing caused Skivret to dive to the floor and roll out of the way of another strike. The King was faster than his size portrayed, and the power behind his attacks would easily cleave Skivret in two.

Skivret dashed to his feet and side stepped another attack. The King was wide open, and Skivret moved forward and struck at the King’s exposed knee, but the King struck him down with a punch and followed it up by stepping on him. Skivret wheezed in pain as he rolled over to the side.

“When are you going to take this seriously,” the King said kicking him across the field, “Being king isn’t just about sitting on a throne, it’s a fight to the death,” Skivret rose to his feet coughing up blood, “The fight for the throne will never end. Detractors, dissidents, everyone will come for you, and you must be strong enough to fight them off!”

Skivret wiped the blood from his mouth and charged. He couldn’t best his father in strength, but he might in speed. Skivret dodged another strike from his father’s sword, but his father followed it up with a kick. Skivret dodged the kick and struck the exposed leg. His sword drew blood. Skivret rand behind his father and cut the backside of the other leg, but the King’s tail struck his back. Skivret rolled with the strike and quickly recovered.

Skivret continued with his dash and slash style, but his shallow cuts weren’t doing much against the King. The same couldn’t be said for Skivret’s wounds. It hurt to breathe, and he could still taste blood. His tactic wasn’t working. Skivret took a deep breath, ignoring the searing pain, and charged again. The King slashed at him, and Skivret ducked under running on all fours. He dashed around to his father’s back and shoved his blade deep into his father’s legs. The King screamed in pain. Skivret tore his blade down his father’s leg to the ankle. The King fell to his knee and tried to reach around to grab Skivret. Skivret jumped on the King’s back and crawled up to his neck and drove his sword into the King’s neck. The King grabbed hold of Skivret. Skivret drove his sword deeper into the King’s neck. The King groaned in pain and released his grip.

“Goodnight father,” Skivret said pulling his sword free.

The King fell to the floor, blood pooling around him. Silence fell over the arena.

“The match is over,” Write’s voice broke the silence, “All hail the King!”

“All hail the King!” the crowd chanted over and over.

Write climbed into the pit, “Congratulations on your victory,” he said, “I’ll have a healer treat you once we’re back at the palace.”

“Thanks, Write,” Skivret said looking at his father’s body, “Prep his body so that we can give him a proper burial.”

“Understood sir,”

Skivret looked up at Nimble, “Send a messenger back to camp. Let them know I am now king.”

“Yes sir!” Nimble ran off.

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Reviled sat in Skivret’s tent looking at the map. The atmosphere in the camp was tense, what with all soldiers out fighting. Cappy sat next to the machine scratching Antwuan’s head and the ant chirped happily. Reviled loosed a low growl at the scene.

“Masta’,” Blegt ran into the tent, “A messenger just arrived. The sire bested his father and brother. He’s now king!”

“Excellent,” Reviled said picking up the mushroom. Antwuan clicked angrily and crawled up its body to rest on Reviled’s shoulder, “Have Preddie meet us at the gate. We’ll have her lead us to the main camp.”

Blegt bowed and ran off. Reviled headed to the gate and waited for the white wererat. It didn’t take long for the female wererat to arrive alongside with her family.

“Sorry to keep you waiting master,” Preddie said, “My family wanted to join us.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Reviled said turning to the gate, “Please lead the way.”

Preddie walked in step with Reviled as she led him through the tunnels. She would occasionally look up at the monster, but she didn’t say anything. Her family followed behind in silence.

“You were originally from the main camp, correct,” Reviled said turning to the white rat.

“Yes master,” Preddie said with a broken smile, “We had to leave because of prince Olmret, but now that sire is the king…”

“I can’t wait to return,” Rench said with a large smile, “I’ll have access to more materials.”

“This is just the beginning,” Reviled said, “The wererats will have a new era of prosperity under us.”

“Truly?” Preddie said looking up at the monster.

“Of course,” Reviled said, “Under us, the wererats will have control over the entire sewers. Meaning you’ll be the first to reap to rewards from our organization.”

“We look forward to seeing it,” Rench said.

“So do we.”