Fife couldn't stop side-eyeing Hilda. The fight against her and her sister, in the siege, had been a struggle for Fife even with Breath of Spring behind her. Every movement had to be planned against so many counters that would have knocked her down, but at least part of her disadvantage was gone now.
Hilda could tell when she was being appraised. Even with the march over the mountain, the look of consideration on the big dragon warrior's face made her blood sing. It was a challenge. She caught herself, though. "Are you sizing me up for a fight or for a bed?"
Laughing, Fife was surprised at how deep her own voice was now she was larger. "A fight. I'm spoken for." Nodding toward the open area between Breeze and Travis, Fife asked, "How about a little fight. Whoever falls over first has to get the other a drink?"
Muttering surrounded the pair as they made their way to the designated spot. Hilda unloaded her pack and the cold weather gear that had seen her safely to this haven from the north. She watched as her opponent unbuckled her vambrace. "You'll want to keep that on."
"I have two layers. My scales are adamantine as well as my plate."
"Keep it on anyway." In truth, Hilda wanted to beat herself against the brick wall of a fighter until she couldn't focus anymore, and could no longer stand. "What's your name?"
"Fife." Thankful that she'd gotten used to her heavier shield and longer sword—both gifts of her physical changes—Fife tested them anew and found the weight favorable to her new strength. Lifting her shield into place, Fife said, "Begin whenever you want."
Hilda had no wish to delay. She summoned every bit of her remaining energy and charged at Fife. The feel of adamantine on adamantine made Hilda shiver with excitement. Her blade being checked on the first strike, though, was not going to dissuade her from reversing and probing Fife's shield.
The fight went on and on, and Fife knew she had the advantage. While Hilda was more skilled, and was regularly hitting her armor, the northern woman was slowing down. Fife's stamina, even outside of Travis, felt infinite. She could parry and strike the ten thousandth time just as fast as she could the first.
When Fife finally made her push, Hilda found herself without the speed to counter it. The deft adamantine blade flicked her own aside and Hilda felt her world tip as Fife's shield shoved her back and down. Staring up at the draconic face, her fatigue finally got the best of her. "Dammit. One more, when I wake up."
Sheathing her sword, putting Hilda’s back in her scabbard, and lifting her up onto one shoulder, Fife looked around at the crowd watching. "I had the advantage this time, but I definitely want a rematch when she can stand up again!" The excitement of having such a skilled swordsman to spar with made Fife anticipate things slowing down a little so she'd have time for more.
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Two and a half days. Stewart had no idea how any creature, even a dragon, could fly for two days without eating or complaining. He was sure, though, that Penelope was only quiet because of the wind. He was cold, tired, and damp from his shoes to his hair, but this was still the fastest he'd ever traveled before. It was just past dawn when he heard her speak for the first time since Far Reach.
"I can see the city!" To speak in any way audibly, Penelope had turned her head almost all the way to her back on her supple neck. "I'll put you down outside!"
"No! Uh—" Stewart shouted back, but when Penelope looked at him in confusion, he pointed down and made an emphatic gesture. He was relieved she got the idea and circled down then landed on the ground. "I want you to fly into the city and onto the wall of the keep."
Harrow recognized the silence Penelope bombarded them with was her trying not to call the King crazy. "Sir, perhaps explain why that wouldn't be suicide for all of us?"
"There is a way I can not only protect you as you fly in, but it will be proof of who I am. Can you carry Lady Elanor for this short distance?" He'd spent the last two days planning out and revising this, and now he could see how it would work. When Penelope nodded, he knew it would work out. "Perfect, because I have a shield spell that will stop anything from harming us, but I can only use it once."
"The King's Seal?" Harrow shifted in his saddle, which was a bad idea because it reminded his rump that he'd been on a dragon's back for two days without relief. "Hold on, I need to stretch my legs or they'll fall off when we get there." When he slid down one side of her neck and landed on the ground, he was reminded of learning to ride a horse for the first time, and spending hours in the saddle.
"Yes. It has stopped armies before. It has stopped cannons and mortars." As soon as he tried to take a step, Stewart realized the wisdom of Harrow's words. He struggled to walk around and, finally defeated, begged Elanor, "Could you spare us a heal, please?"
The last thing Elanor did before leaving Northridge—well, before she'd listened to Stewart ask for the freedom to woo her—was to shift her class from Priest to Soldier. Her killing of a baron, his noble guard, and assassins, according to Travis' system, had gained her a lot of experience that had pushed her old class to its max level, and she suspected she was about to get more. The Soldier class itself wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was a stepping stone for Tank. She looked at Stewart with a curious expression. "Mr. Travis said you were worth a whole extra level on his dungeon."
Letting out a groan of relief as the healing spell rushed through one of his most tender areas, Stewart shook his head. "I would gladly gift him my own head on a plate, pending a resurrection of course, if the kingdom wouldn't immediately pass to my cousin. She's a good sort, and is trained in statecraft, but I would like to retain my position now I have it." The fatigue of two days seeped out of him as the last of Elanor's magic did its work.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"So that is why Trav's system acknowledged you as king?" Penelope asked. The previous change of leadership had been before her own time, though she had to remind herself to be more mysterious. She was a dragon now, and that meant she could get away with a lot of behavior no one else could—which meant less dealing with red tape. And like that her mind skipped a beat as now she mused on how she knew the term red tape.
"The kingdom will always have a leader." Stewart was tempted to propose on the spot for the relief that Elanor had granted him. "Which is why a king never carries a talisman." He spared Penelope a smile and walked over to her shoulder.
"But you do," Elanor said, following Stewart.
"This is breaking with tradition, but even if I die today— Even if I wake up tomorrow in Northridge, with none of the bond the kingdom shares with its rulers—" Heaving himself up first, then reaching down to help Elanor, who proved she didn't need it by vaulting up behind him. "Even then, I would want to see my father avenged."
Leaning forward, both their dusters providing a safe layer between them, Elanor whispered in Stewart's ear, "Would you live for me?" She blushed the moment she'd said it but nonetheless wrapped her arms around his waist to hold on.
Pausing as he was about to ask Penelope to take to the sky again, Stewart sighed and nodded. "Yes," he said, "but only if you keep whispering in my ear."
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Penelope looked across at the city. Its defenses put even Northridge's new defenses to shame, and from the angle she was at right now it was clear the guards on them meant business. It was the only time she'd seen any city with a similar firearm availability as Northridge. Each guardsman had a rifle, pistol, sword, and a spear.
The city's walls weren't the carefully measured square Northridge's original ones had been. The kingdom's capital was more like a wagon wheel without the outer loop. A star design that Penelope could see (from her vantage) that every approach could be covered by multiple sections of that wall. "Your shield had better work, or I'll see you all in Northridge."
Not a moment after Penelope saw the first eagle-eyed guard point at her did Stewart's shield flash into place. A huge golden construct of force that seemed to burn all around her, she witnessed its effectiveness not a few moments after the first puffs of smoke arose from the wall—and the cannonballs were vaporized before her nose.
There was nothing to do but trust Stewart and keep going. Penelope soared over the wall, wrapped in the golden barrier, as cannons, ballistas, and even rifle fire now impinged impotently on the shield spell. "How long will this last?!"
"Until—" Stewart didn't bother finishing. Penelope had carried him to the wall of the inner keep where the Royal Guard stood. It was a relief to him, at least, that they weren't shooting.
Landing on the wall, Penelope was glad she hadn't had to make room for herself. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed that there was still the odd rifle shot coming her way. "Don't drop your shield, we're still under fire. Courtyard?"
Replying with a nod, Stewart waited for them to descend and land on the cobblestones before dispelling his shield. Jumping down to Penelope's leg, he let her lower him to the ground before acknowledging the waiting Royal Guards. "I need a report. What happened to my father?"
"Five days ago, Your Majesty, his condition deteriorated. The healers couldn't—"
Stewart held up a hand to forestall the medical report. "He was killed, poisoned. There was an attempt on my own life and that of the Earl of Hearthhome. I need to know if any high-ranking nobles have been present?"
Clearing her throat, Penelope leaned her head down. She had, much to her surprise, grown comfortable having a head nearly the size of a person's torso, but from the reactions of Stewart and his guards, they weren't. "Sir, now isn't the time for questions, but action." It was more born of her experience adventuring, but she caught him nodding to it.
The words rang true enough to Stewart that he knew he had to cast off his former need to check permission before doing things. He also needed to harden his heart. "Bar the gates. Drop the portcullis, and raise my colors. Now, take us to wherever the Marquess of West Reaches has invested himself." The last he said to the Royal Guard.
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Elanor wished she could have brought Penelope with them, but once they were inside the castle itself, a lot of the halls were surprisingly narrow and wouldn't let a dragon roam them. Stewart had left her in the throne room with orders to the guards that she was to be treated as a guest of the castle and a citizen of the kingdom.
Now she was following Stewart through tight hallways and up twisting stairs, with the likelihood that she'd be shooting again. Even though she'd swapped her dungeon class to Soldier, she still felt the heat of Sandwalker wrapping around her, while the city and kingdom made up a triumvirate of power ready for her to unleash. "Are all the castle passages this tight?"
"There are wider ones. These are the fastest," Stewart said, his mental map of the castle's less-traveled halls guiding him. "This last staircase will lead into the hall outside the noble visitor suites."
Hearing Harrow behind her struggling with the narrow passage, Elanor decided her lot wasn't so bad. It took another two minutes before Stewart opened a door and led the three of them out into the hallway. The sound of metal on stone came from both directions of the hallway, but she noticed him approaching a large pair of double doors. "Stewart, perhaps you shouldn't go first?"
It was another case of thinking like a prince. Stewart nodded. "Elanor, I hate to ask it—"
Already reaching for her revolver loaded with explosive rounds, Elanor stepped forward and let out a little nervous laugh. "Don't. I have enough talismans on me to make a priest's offering bowl collapse under the weight of the gold in it. Sandwalker, cities of the realm, and the kingdom itself, lend us your strength that our aim will be true."
Heat poured into all three. Elanor accepted it as her god's blessing, and while Stewart was comfortable with it from his experience with the kingdom's power, Harrow stared at his burning hand in surprise.
"It doesn't hurt…" Harrow said. "Should we wait for more guards to arrive?"
"They've made this personal, and while I would feel safer with the guards, I can't help but wonder if any have been compromised—and I don't want such at my back when this starts." Stewart waited for Elanor. When she raised her boot and drove it forward, he winced in sympathy with the wood paneling.
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This story is released under the Creative Commons BY-NC-SA license. If you are paying money to see this or the original creator, Damaged, is not credited, you are viewing a plagiarized copy of the story.