Lands Lord did not like being in sewers. Thinking back on it, he was pretty sure no one liked being in a sewer, so such a statement would be wrong from the outset. But then again, he had never been near a sewer in his life. It was just something his tribe's Teacher would talk about through the dark nights of their nomadic life along with a myriad of stories about the wondrous technology of the cities.

The cities were far better in stories.

‟Kin Landsss...” his compatriot whispered to him.

He turned to the other lizardkin in the sewage tunnel with him. ‟Yesss?” He tried to keep his tail as far off the mouldy ground possible.

‟You told usss that your tribe do not know of your joining with usss. Are you not worried that they would not find your body if our attack goesss awry?”

‟Thank you for your worry, Kin Tanner. But it would be better if they do not know of my involvement, given their hope for reunification with the ressst of Tearha. Today'sss attempt to right a wrong are tied to my tail alone. Should we fail, they will be ssspared.”

‟Honourable,” their more cynical third companion added. ‟Assside from the fact that if we accomplish the tasssk, Coun Taliesssin will acquire the power to guarantee reunification too.”

‟Yesss,” Lands Lord agreed with his kin from a different tribe. ‟I have not forgotten the deal he made with your tribe asss well. To think that there were more of usss looking to reunite with the world...”

Tanner continued excitedly, ‟The world isss larger than the foressst we live in. I am sure other tribesss are in their own journey to return too.”

Before they could continue, the floorboards above them shifted open and Coun Taliesin stood looking down. ‟The path is clear. Quickly.”

The trio of lizardkins quickly climbed out one after the other into what seemed to be a storage room of cleaning equipment. Mops lined the walls along with still dripping wet buckets and a crate which Lands could have sworn he saw a rat scuttle behind.

‟Remember the plan,” Taliesin reminded. ‟You two come with me. Lands, get up to the mezzanine and only interfere if things go south. No killing until I get the chance to confront her about her crimes. And here, Lands. I got this from the armoury.” The Coun handed him a lance as he had to leave his behind at the hideout given how cumbersome it was to travel the sewers with it.

The lizardkins nodded back and without any further words, they flooded out of the storage room into the empty corridor. Taliesin and the two kins hurried left towards the throne room entrance while Lands himself slipped right and turned up a flight of stairs.

He kept himself and his weapon low on the ground, almost snake-like. He was sure that was a term Artria would have used to describe his motion as he slithered up the flight of stairs. Oh, slithered was far better.

On the second floor, he jumped behind a pillar immediately after turning out into the main corridor. Two aides were chatting away at the next turn, while the entrance to the throne room's mezzanine was opposite the crossroad.

He let out a long breath, tongue flicking out of his lips. Then, when he was sure the two aides had turned away from his direction, he rushed across and turned into another corridor.

Straight before him now was the door to the throne room's mezzanine, manned by a single guard in the manpower deprived keep. He approached quickly while the guard reacted with surprise and fumbled with their sword. He closed in before they could even raise their weapon and slapped the side of the guard's helmet with the blunt of his lance, lifting the guard off their feet and falling unconscious, side onto the ground with a crunch.

‟Sssorry,” he mumbled under his breath as he quickly opened the mezzanine door and dragged the guard in by their feet. He set the knocked-out body against the entrance and slotted the sword through the ring handle as a makeshift lock and barricade.

‟Coun Taliesin,” he could hear Gwen's voice echo across the rafters. ‟I'm glad to see you alive. But what is all this?”

Lands peeked over the parapet to see that Taliesin and his kins had already entered the room and taken out the guards. His short pause in the hallway must have set him slightly slower back than them.

‟Do not try to hide it, Queen Gweneviere. I found the hideouts you used to kill your victims. I am here to exact justice, and give you one last chance to turn yourself into the law.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

‟I see.” Even though Lands could not see her face clearly, she sounded like she was smiling.

But he did not have time to dawdle on that thought. He needed to get into a better position. Swiftly, he clambered up the pillars and onto the beams of the rafters. The hard wood of the rafters must have been of quality as expensive as the marble floors and walls, for they did not even creak under his weight as he wiggled from beam to beam, keeping an eye on Taliesin as the Coun warily approached the throne.

The Coun said, ‟You do not seem particularly surprised.”

The queen shrugged. ‟I was wondering when you would make your move after my hideout at Hoster Crossing was compromised. And when you disappeared, I was already preparing for a retribution.”

As Lands Lord settled onto one of the middle rafters and could finally focus, he felt something off. This was not the epic confrontation that he had imagined, or the vehement shouts of refusal that was expected from a monarch defending her position. It was as if Gweneviere not only expected this, but was looking forward to it.

‟How many have you killed? How long?” Taliesin questioned passionately.

The queen merely replied nonchalantly. ‟Hundreds? Thousands? Half a dozen every season.”

Something wasn't right. Not just the queen's monochromatic behaviour. It wasn't that of an emotionless psychopath, or any variation of Gwen he had seen during his time with her. Lands could not help but feel like they were puppets on a string. Like they were in the wrong story, or the dawning realization that they might not have all the pieces.

‟Oh! The party has arrived.” Gwen exclaimed excitedly. ‟You'll want to pay attention for this.”

The door to the throne room smashed opened and soldiers rushed in, followed but the Knight Commnader of the Round, Artria Pendragon.

‟Taliesin!” The knight yelled as she charged towards the councilman.

Lands Lord reacted quickly, throwing his lance down into the path of the attacking knight to deflect her strike before leaping off the rafters and landing between them. He quickly guided Taliesin aside with his tail.

‟Lae Art! Calm yourssself!” He held out his hand in plea.

‟You! You're alive?” Art's face revealed shock and quick anger. ‟I gave you a chance to prove the good of your species, and this is how you repay it?”

‟Lands!” Taliesin shouted.

The councilman tossed Lands his weapon and his instinct took over as Art attacked. He blocked the strike but was almost thrown off his feet. His hand shook at the sheer force as he struggled to regain footing. She did not slow down, attacking with a downward strike that he barely parried. He was running on poor instincts and muscle memory now, his mind unable to keep up with both the nagging feeling that something else was wrong as well as the onslaught of the knight. When the third strike came, his brain was unable to response even as his body desperately blocked the hit to save his life, though sending his back onto the floor.

His ears were ringing and body aching. Strong as he was, he was nothing compared to the legendary knight herself. His vision blurred as there were shouts and screams in the background. There might also have been an explosion, though he might have drifted into black for a second to not have fully internalised it.

‟I'm not a monster. I'm a god.”

His eyes flew open at those words. Rage filled his body. Gods. The creatures that played with the lives of the denizens of the world, toying with them like puppets on strings to do their bidding. 200 years ago, the god of shadows manipulated the lizardkins to take their side and were thus cast out of society.

Things clicked slowly into place.

If Gwen was a god, then this was one of their games. And he was not going to let his people be pawns any longer.

So he got back up, roaring. Mad berserker energy coursing through his veins as he made a desperate charge at Gweneviere. But the Ex Machina leopard rushed in, sinking its teeth into the handle of his lance as the creature's body weight pushed him back.

‟What?” Art blurted out, confused.

‟Oh, Art. Loyal Art. You were never good with faces.”

Something was still off. He wasn't getting it. He didn't understood the game. And if there's one thing he learned from his kin's history was that when dealing with gods, not getting the game means losing.

‟I knew you for hundreds of years, before you were even queen.”

‟Yes, you did.”

The leopard was still struggling on his lance, dragging him left and right as he tried desperately to kick the creature-weapon away. Why was Gwen egging Art on? Does she want Art to kill her?

‟And all that time? Lies?”

‟Of course.”

Does the god want Art to kill Gwen? Is that it? Is that the game? But why? Doesn't matter now. How does he stop it? Can he stop it? He has to stop it.

‟Why?”

‟Because I needed power. And you are full of power.”

With one final spin, he tossed the leopard clean across the room as its bite slip from his lance.

‟Don't!” He shouted.

But it was too late. The knight's sword had already cleaved the queen in two.