“Ya' looking awfully swank today, lady Tree,” Ratface smirked at her dress, a tight one piece with purple shoulders.

“I do not think 'swank' is a word.”

“Aren't ya' cold?”

“Freezing,” Trini admitted, putting on a single left bead of an earring. “But my father asked this of me. Can't raise any suspicions on this final day.”

Her heart was beating out her chest. Today was the day their plans kicks off, and was likely to be remembered either as her day of freedom or death.

She turned to the dwarf and admitted, “I have to play the compliant daughter till the end.” The elf grabbed her master key from the table and handed it to him.

“Not gonna be so compliant no longer though.” Ratface took the key with a delighted grin.

As she summoned her sabre to check the blade for the umpteenth time that day, she asked a question that had echoed in the back of her mind since they met.

“Tell me, dwarf,” she inquired. “Why are you still here? No Soul Arms to find, nor memories of regret to hold you. I would have thought you'd run the first chance you get.”

Ratface pocketed the key and spoke out of tone. “I need him, ya' boyfriend.”

“Which one?” She ignored - or accepted - the jab at their relationship status.

“The one crazy enough to go north. Two hundred years ago, our people were called back to fight the war. By the time I reached The Highway, the roads were already closed. So I was trapped here, waiting for 'em to open back up again.”

Having not known the call to arms, she answered in surprise. “It's been two hundred years. Why haven't The Highway reopened?”

“That's what I want to know. Nothing monstrous have come from the north to kill us, so we can assume they won 'em fight. But if they not opening up...” he trailed off. A short pause fell between them before he cleared his throat. “I need him. He's the first person strong enough and stupid enough to go north with me. He wants to find his people, so do I. But if my people aren't reopening The Highway...”

“Then they're probably dead,” she admitted. “And you still wish to go back?”

“We'all need people to go back to when we die, Tree.” He turned towards the secret passage behind her wall and transformed down. His last words echoed in her mind as the rat pattered away. “Even when 'ems all gone.”

Her thoughts lingered on the dwarf. Even as her weapon faded into magic, she stood still, mind a blank. Where does she go when she dies? Considering that her current objective revolved around killing her immediate family, and the world of criminal organizations would more likely make her a slave than let her live in peace, what awaited her in the future, if there was even to be an after? An image of Nadier flashed in her mind, and she quickly swiped it away. The man had already betrayed her once, and she was not going to fall for him again. But maybe... she should put future plans away for when it arrive in the present.

With her thoughts aside, she pushed out of her room and made her way to the central tower, where she descended the stairs to the VIP box. Two guards armed with rare steam-machine guns were sentinels of the door. Upon seeing her approach, they quickly stepped away and allowed her to go through the double door.

Swank.

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That was perhaps the only word Trini could think of to describe the party. The VIP box that overlooked the cavern had been transformed into a small ballroom. Well-dressed elites gathered at standing tables with servers serving wine straight to their hands as they chatted away before the main event began. A live band of five played soothing music to waltz to. She recognized most of the attendees. They were some of the most powerful crime lords that ran international criminal rings. From slavers to hunters, to despots and kingpins. It seemed her father intended to make the most of this once in a lifetime event, the most money at least.

She sat next to her father at the height of it all, overlooking the floor with a direct view into the dark cavern. Beside them was Langsley, dressed in a rare attire for the party - a silk onyx cloak with gold singes that covered him. On the opposite end, a stone sheeps and kows were brought in crates to act as bait for the dragon as mechanics tweaked with the old dwarven doors that was carved into the cave side.

Atro noted, “Well done with the dress, daughter.”

“Impeccable taste as always, father,” she answered monotonously.

His hand slid under her back, cold against her skin. “Why not entertain some of the guests.”

It was not phrased as a question. She did not know why she needed to engage with more “clients” for him given his already grotesque accumulation of wealth. What was he going to buy with the second pile of uncountable fortune that he could not buy with the first? Nonetheless, it was an expected request, and one that she was more than happy to fulfil that day.

Trini stepped off her throne towards the dance floor. Most gazes darted to her, but before she could pick her target, an unfamiliar male stepped up.

“Lady Trini,” his raspy voice crumbled through. “May I have this dance?” The man outstretch his hand to welcome hers.

For the first time in hundreds of years, an individual had cut through the noise of a soirée and captured her undivided attention. A hair of jet black ruffled over white irises with a shadow black sclera, the sharp, scarred, dishevelled face dragged her eyes to him. The suit the man wore looked too tight for his comfort, but fitted his fit form, only barely leaking the scares from under his sleeve and out his neckline.

She took his hand and armed herself with a false smile. “My pleasure.” It seemed that she would have her own battlefield that day instead of simply leaving the heavy lifting to the boys.

They stepped onto the dance floor and smoothly transitioned into steps, theirs arms on each other's backs. Despite his visage, the man was unorthodoxly competent in a waltz. His hand was high up her waist, near her back, instead of the low-hanging branches more leeches would wind up aiming for, suggesting he was not interested in her sexually.

“Look at all these people here, practically salivating to watch a Clover be eaten. Three-to-one. That's a terrible betting average. I have money on the dragon, but that's more because that knight's such a jackass.” The man held a fake smile as he voiced disgust. “If these wankers knew who I am though, I'd be fed to the dog. Or in this case, a dragon.”

“You are...” Trini scanned his face and sifted through her memories. He had met the man, though just once before, on her way to charm the merchant Dewitt. “Neo Deskett.”

“Captain of the Forerunner Mercenaries, at your service.”

Her voice lowered below the music. “What are you after?”

“Just a dance right. No sex, please. Got no room for another fuck toy in my life. I have a feeling a real party is about to happen, and I wouldn't want to miss it.”

A guard approached her father on his throne and whispered into the man's ear. Slowly, the happy mask the beast master wore slipped slightly, before a full grimace and tilted brow furrowed his demeanour. He barked orders under his breath to the guard who bowed frantically before running out the room. Atro's eyes snapped to her, and she knew she had been exposed. The prison break had happened, and the jig was up.

“Alright Mister Deskett,” Trini began. It was now or never. “Do you really want to dance with me? Perhaps in private?” She gave her best smile to him, willing her seduction prowess into being.

“Not really,” he admitted with a crooked grin, buffering her advance. “But if it gets the party started, I'll escort your ass out of here in a bite.”

The room erupted in cheers. Flames of electric white and fire red danced lightning across the walls of the room as the dragon was led into the cavern. It breathed its deadly breath as it hunted down the sheeps and kows that were used to lure it out of the gates from the neighbouring cave. As the doors of stone wound shut behind the creature, Trini could sense her exit closing in on her as well.

“Shall we?” she said to Neo.

The man bowed and led her out. From her peripherals, she could see her father's head following her, but soon was overtaken by his showmanship as he addressed the crowd. Behind the roaring died down as the man's announcement slipped away as she left the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen! It is time for the battle of the century!”