Sara traced her steps back out of the underground arena. It was so quiet without Jack speaking to her, but she made up for the lack of noise by dragging the black knight’s sword along the stone, marking a trail all the way back to the masked girl.

“Why do you have that?” was the first thing the masked girl asked when Sara emerged back into the light.

“Proof,” Sara replied, shouldering past her. It was evening and the castle was winding down. Through the long windows carved in the walls, the sky was an ocean blue marked with stars.

The masked girl’s wooden sandals clacked as she followed Sara. “I trust you did the job correctly.”

“I did.”

“And you managed to do so without using magic.”

“Well…”

“Where is Jack?”

Sara didn’t answer that one. She didn’t feel like anyone deserved to know what happened down in the arena. Jack’s sacrifice and his words afterward felt personal, something that should only be known by those who were there.

Which was only Sara now.

They reached the throne room once more. There were still servants about, who scurried out of her path when they saw what she was carrying. No one dared to even make eye-contact.

Sara was pretty sure she looked like some battered thing dragged out from under ten feet of sand. Add that with the sword, she probably looked like some sort of horror game demon.

Maybe that’s what I ought to be.

The doors to the throne room were closed. Sara went to open them but the masked girl placed a hand on her arm.

“Leave the sword. You’ll spook the King.”

“You waited till now to tell me this?” Sara said. “No. I’m taking it inside so the brat can see what I had to go up against.” She shoved the doors open.

The room was sparsely populated. There were still people drinking and eating at the long table, but only a few were sober enough to lift their heads up at Sara. As she passed them, she made it a point to look at each person in the eye, like some sort of divine judge deciding what sort of punishment each glutton deserves.

The men turned back to their wine.

At the front of the table, King Rychard had his legs up and sat sideways on his throne. His head was nestled in the bosom of one of his maids, who was feeding him pieces of chicken she tore out from the plate of wings.

Sara couldn’t keep the snarl off her face. “Your Highness,” she said. “I’m handing in my bounty.”

Rychard cracked open an eye then closed it again. “Someone get that dirty thing away from my table.”

“This dirty thing is the weapon from the monster I defeated.”

“I know,” said Rychard. “I meant you.”

Sara seethed. Before she could say anything the masked girl cut in.

“My king. The traveler has upheld her end of the promise. It is time we do the same.”

Rychard opened his mouth, letting the maid drop a piece of chicken into it.

Sara gripped the claymore with both hands and heaved it up, crashing it onto the table. The solid wood snapped, plates and glasses toppling into the middle. People scrambled from their seats, fleeing out the door in a stumbling mass of colorful robes and fancy wigs.

The maid feeding Rychard sprang up, causing the kid to tumble onto the floor.

“Off with your head!” Rychard cried. “Someone cut off her head!”

The boy king looked around. There was no one left in the room except him, Sara, and his Right Hand.

“Fox! Cut off her head. I want it on the plate!”

The masked girl clasped her hands inside her sleeves. “The traveler is not in the wrong, Your Highness. She has slain our Berserker, a feat unaccomplished in more than a hundred years.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I don’t care who she slew,” said Rychard. “I want her dead for this.” He pointed to the masked girl’s katana. “Don’t forget it was my father who gave you that sword. Without his help, you would be long dead by now!”

“I have never forgotten the kindness your father has shown me,” replied the masked girl evenly. “That is why I cannot attack this traveler. Our fight will destroy all that he had built.”

Rychard’s cheeks puffed out. His face reddened. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, before finally stuffing them into his pants.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ll hold a tourney in the traveler’s name.”

The masked girl bowed. “Your wish will be done, Your Highness.” She took Sara’s arm and began leading her away.

“I can walk by myself,” Sara said, shrugging her away. She marched out the room, stopping by the table to pick up an apple.

When morning came, Sara was woken up by a knock. She threw on what fresh clothes were left in the closet and padded over to the door, knowing who it was before she even opened it.

“Good morning,” said the masked girl. “Are you ready to go home?”

Sara nodded. “Let’s make this quick.”

“You have done what few have ever managed,” said the masked girl. “The Berserker you killed was one of the best. He almost killed the Dragon first.”

“Whatever,” said Sara. “Could we get some breakfast?”

After feasting herself on vegetable soup and wheat bread, Sara sat down at a far corner in the dining hall, where the masked girl had saved her a seat.

“This kinda feels like school,” Sara said as she picked up a fork and stabbed into a piece of roasted potato on the other girl’s plate. “But I was usually too busy doing homework in the labs to eat.”

“I don’t remember much of school,” the masked girl admitted. “What were you studying before… this?”

“Blowing up chemicals,” said Sara. Then she laughed. “I’m joking. They don’t give us any of the good stuff.”

“But you can,” said the girl. “You know how.”

Sara shrugged. “I drank a beer one time and searched up some stuff on the internet.”

The masked girl removed the bottom half of her mask so she could eat. Halfway through her first bite, she said, “You can only reach the Calamity Dragon through a special portal.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sara, ripping into a loaf of bread.

“It can only be opened by a ritual of blood.”

“Cool.”

“That’s why you must attend the tourney.”

“Alright.”

“I’m sorry. It seems I might be boring you with information on how to get back to the real world.”

Sara chewed her bread and swallowed. “Look,” she said, pointing the loaf at the girl. “I’ve been through so much shit at this point you could not possibly throw anything new at me. I’ve seen it all and I’m numb to it.”

As soon as she said that, the doors to the dining hall burst open. A boy charged in, holding a scroll over his head and shouting, “The Mad King has fallen! House Stryde is no longer! The Blue Nation is gone!”

Silence descended on the room. Then, everyone dropped their food and began to scream.

Sara watched as people stumbled into each other, some crawling over tables to get at the door. “What’s happening this time?”

The masked girl took a sip from her cup and stood. “We have to hurry,” she said, fastening the other half of her mask back. “The tourney must happen before the Prince of Skulls can attack us, or we’re all doomed.”

Sara caught up to the masked girl on the way back to the throne room.

“Hey, wait a minute.” She caught the girl’s arm at the base of the stairs. “What the hell is happening?”

“With the Blue Nation under Red control, there’s nothing stopping the Prince of Skulls from attacking Bronzenhaven,” the girl responded. She took the stairs up two at a time, her shoes making rhythmic tip-taps.

“And this affects me how?” Sara asked.

The masked girl pushed open the doors. “Not a bit, if we can stop it. In fact, that gives me an idea.”

Inside, the throne room was still a mess. The table hadn’t been cleared and the claymore sat in its middle like a dam, with food scattered all around the floor.

Rychard was by the far end of the room, looking out the slits cut in the walls that served as windows. He turned as the two girls approached.

“I suppose you heard the news,” he said, all traces of his brattiness gone. “And you’re here to tell me we need to fight.”

“My King, You must run,” said the masked girl. “The Tachelms are far too powerful for us.”

“No!” said Rychard. “I will not abandon my father’s castle while his enemies burn across our land. That is not what a king does.”

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Where is this sudden patriotism coming from?”

Rychard stuck his tongue out at her.

“The castle might be safe for now,” said the masked girl, “but the Skull Prince possesses siege weapons the like of which we can not hope to defend against.”

“Then we fight them on our doorsteps,” the boy king said. “I will lead the charge myself.”

The masked girl fell silent. Sara stuck her hands in her pockets and walked around the room. It was richly decorated with banners and shields hanging from the walls, and the furniture was all plated with bronze.

“Are you certain you want this, Your Highness?” the masked girl asked.

Rychard turned his back to her and looked out the window. “Send the word. I will declare all my forces to mobilize. We must be ready when the Skull Prince comes.”

Sara stopped in front of a piece of artwork. It depicted a woman dressed all in flowing white robes, holding a white wood staff. She stood atop a hill of fire, her expression brave as she faced whatever was above her.

The masked girl took out a scroll from her sleeve. “In that case, I will require Your Highness to mark his seal on these orders.”

“You prepared them already?” the king asked.

“I always have plans,” the masked girl answered.

Sara leaned closer to the painting. The woman was familiar. Though her hair was all white, her features were that of someone she knew. She tried to think if she’d seen this person before, maybe during her travels or…

“Why do you also need so much Fire Ash?” the king suddenly demanded. “And what are these names?”

“They are chemicals, Your Highness.”

Sara ears perked up. She looked over to where the king was standing with his Right Hand.

“What do they all do?” the king asked even as he stamped his seal on the bottom of the scroll.

“I don’t know,” said the masked girl, her voice heightened with an invisible smile as she turned to Sara. “But she does.”