"But she's doing okay, right?" Fife asked. "I didn't think I hit her that hard."

"She might look like an unstoppable juggernaut, Fife, but she's still just human." Brayden watched Fife and Hreti sparring. "I promised her I wouldn't use any magic on her, not that it would help anyway. She needs a few weeks of good food, light training, and no idiotic adamantine dragons fighting her. Got it?"

Groaning, Fife held up a hand to Hreti. "Hold," she said, keeping her focus on Hreti. "I need to see that disarm you tried once more. How is Njal doing?"

Watching the pair go through a combat sequence was like watching a dance. Brayden was slightly in awe of how far Fife had come with her skills. "He's recovering. He was fine with me healing him, once the trait actually did its thing and he got his scales."

By the fourth time deliberately playing into Hreti's taunting swing, and having his sword catch hers at an annoying angle, she finally lost her grip on the blade. "Okay, let me get my sword and try it."

Shaking his head, the fur now regrowing, Hreti said, "I've never seen anyone hold their blade after falling for that once, let alone three times."

Picking up her sword, Fife walked back over to Hreti and held it out for him to inspect—hilt first.

The laughter surprised Brayden, so he walked forward to look over the handle. The four deep talon marks in the hilt were obvious. "Smart."

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The double doors flew open with the energy of Elanor's kick. Inside she saw her uncle, her cousin, and three guards who turned to face them. The guards all reached for their weapons while the Marquess David Fitzgerald shook off the shock of the sudden arrival. "Prince Stewart! How good to see you! It's such a relief that you're—"

"King!" Stewart shouted. "When my father died, I became king by the will of the kingdom itself. I have proved that by arriving in this very city using the power of the King's Seal. Put your weapons down, now. I won't ask again."

Reaching into his jacket, keeping his other hand away from his ceremonial sword, David said, "I'm taking out a notice, the last will of the former king. I think you'll find it is enlightened reading." It was paper he removed, of course, but it wasn't what he'd said. Two talismans, for the capital he was now in, fluttered from David's fingers. "Shoot him."

The city and the kingdom roared in Elanor's ears. Protect him! they shouted, but that wasn't her job. Harrow moved faster than her, putting himself between Stewart and the Marquess' guards as they pulled their pistols free and aimed.

Raising her revolver, Elanor felt as calm as a cat hunting. Of the three guards, she saw one had a slight head-start, and fixed her aim on them first. The sound of her revolver firing was a joyful song that the city, the kingdom, and Sandwalker all joined in with. The bullet flew fast and true, hitting the man in the chest.

Eliza Sussaridge didn't need to hear that second concussive blast to know that the woman shooting at them was Elanor. She'd seen first hand how effective guns were on her cousin, so she jerked on the igniter on her first grenade and rolled it underhand toward the doorway, hoping the motion wouldn't get anyone's attention. Like her father, she jerked out the capital talismans she'd been carrying.

When Elanor didn't react to the bomb rolling toward them, Harrow did. Using his pistol loaded with gold bullets, he fired once, cocked the hammer back, and fired again. The second bullet hit and split the casing open—causing the fuse to ignite the small charge within.

The puff of fine white powder wasn't as well distributed as the grenade would have done if left to its own ignition sequence. Eliza was relieved to see it engulfed the King's bodyguard and was drifting toward the King and Elanor.

Burn it. Elanor reached her left hand out toward the cloud approaching and followed the instruction. Flames wrapped her hand and then launched out. The dust quickly caught fire and a moment later nothing was left to show for the poison other than Harrow on the ground, convulsing.

Feeling the same haze of righteous anger as she had in Far Reach, Elanor pulled the trigger again and again. The bullets that came her way were barely felt as she gunned down Eliza, David, and the last two of their guards. Panting, it took her a moment to remember she wasn't alone and to perceive her companions.

The room, Stewart could see, was a mess. Elanor hadn't exactly stopped when each target was killed, but had kept firing on them—not that he minded the prospect of rebuilding the suite. What did make him angry was seeing all the bodies in the room fade away as their talismans took them to safety. "Damn."

Kneeling at Harrow's side, Elanor could see the blood leaking from his nose and heard a hacking cough from his mouth for a moment before he stilled, then disappeared. "Did Harrow have a talisman from here?"

"No. He'll be back in Northridge. He'll be safer there until we can verify everything in the capital is under control. They seemed surprised to see us, but not unprepared." Avoiding the black soot on the floor, Stewart walked into the room and crouched to examine what the Marquess had dropped. "These are talismans for a temple not far from the keep. My guess is—"

Reaching for his head as a scream built, Stewart could see a mirror of his own shock in Elanor's face. The kingdom, an entity utterly dependent on the populations of its cities, cried out in agonized pain as a large section of itself ripped free.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The kingdom stretched out in three arms. To the east was the oldest part of the kingdom, the Eastern Reaches. It had no less than fifty cities that spread out of the central home of the Duke that ran it. To the north, the youngest arm was still sprouting cities off the spur that Hearthhome and its earl commanded. The West Reaches formed its own hub of some thirty cities, but the link had been severed.

Something reached through the bond to Elanor. Power flared and protected the kingdom from harm, searing the wound of the severed limb over with power and cauterizing it. She could feel more than just cities now. Travis and Breeze were within the kingdom physically, but now were part of it metaphysically. Through them, the power of gods flowed and cradled the panicked kingdom.

Panting for breath, Stewart stared at the two talismans on the floor. There was no precedent for this. He struggled to collect himself and reassert his control over his own body, and heard the sound of vomiting behind him. A glance back showed Elanor was handling the schism worse.

Having lost the pemmican she'd gulped down while riding Ripper, Elanor tried to shove down the pain that the kingdom felt. Stewart's arm around her shoulders reassured her, strengthened her. She leaned into him. "He broke the kingdom."

The Royal Guards reached the room and found Elanor and Stewart hugging each other for strength. The smell of seared flesh and stone dust from Elanor's shooting combined with the growing smell from her vomit. "Sir?"

Turning to the soldier, Stewart cleared his throat. "The West Reaches are in rebellion. Send a page to the army headquarters and have them meet here as soon as they can." He rattled off a dozen other orders, people he'd need to be aware that they were moving to a war footing. At last, though, he could smile a little. "Contact my cousin, Priscilla—she's now heir to the throne and I need to speak with her."

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Something had been bothering the kingdom for some time. Every time its king and prince called upon it, there was a strange sensation from the west, as if something were fighting against it. The West Reaches was being noisy, and slow to respond. Then, when it gained its own avatar, the sensation became worse.

Akin to what a mortal with a sore tooth would do, the kingdom worried at this sensation. There wasn't pain, just a very not rightness.

After the surprise Far Reach had, when its avatar landed there on a dragon, the kingdom saw fit to calm the capital in advance. That didn't stop the mortal response, of course, but it saved its avatar's minion from the fury of the most powerful city in the kingdom.

The fight between its avatar and an upstart noble filled the kingdom with confidence. Of all the thousand-thousand little sparks of life that made up life within it, the kingdom had grown to love the bright flames of its king and its avatar. From its cities it had learned the curious game of matchmaking, and though it hadn't deliberately intended to push the pair together, it could sense a bond between them.

It celebrated the King's solidification of his power along with them until the kingdom felt almost half of itself tearing asunder. The pain was beyond anything it had felt before. Over the years, it had lost a city here or there to outsiders raiding or dungeons growing too powerful. But, this was thirty-three of its cities, hundreds of thousands of lives, and countless dungeons lost as West Reaches tore up the bond it held with the rest of the cities east of it.

Its scream of agony echoed through its king, its avatar, and every single city in the kingdom that formed part of it. It felt itself dying and leaking its essence out through the tear, and with that darkness seemed to close in around it.

"Dungeon Travis!"

"Wha—?" was all Travis managed to get out before Northridge drew on his power. He knew the city well enough that he not only let it take from his strength, but he pushed more at it—sending out a silent plea to the two gods that had temples within him.

Breeze, too, felt a tug on the link they shared with Northridge, and without hesitation pushed their own power out and into the city and beyond. Feeling the pull increase, Breeze simply pushed more power out.

"Brayden! Felna! Something's wrong and Northridge needs more power! Can you—" Seeing the pair break into prayer where they stood, Travis cut himself off and let them ask their gods. The power, when it came, was far too much for him to handle. The gods pushed up through the link he had to Northridge and then beyond.

Travis could guess what needed the power, and who was probably on the other end of it. So he pushed with everything he had, not stopping until his mana was down to ten, since he was aware that Penelope and Ripper were both living off that.

As sudden as the need for power came, Travis felt it ease. "What happened, Northridge?" There was no immediate reply. "Northridge?"

"Dungeons."

The word reverberated around Travis' mind like a cannonball with no regard for personal space. It wasn't the voice that Northridge used, and he could feel Breeze also reeling from it. "H-Hello?"

"I have not had a dungeon assist me before. For that you have my thanks. It is your dragon that serves my avatar?" The kingdom didn't often focus on any one city within its ranks, but having two dungeons assist it was a unique event. That the two gods that had sprung to its aid had come from them was astounding.

"Yeah. Her name is Pen—Penelope. What happened? Northridge called out for our help."

The nuances of the phrasing were curious to the kingdom. From Northridge itself the information had come that both dungeons had given freely and with everything they had. Now, finding out they did so without any answers? Perhaps it was a new kind of dungeon or simply a unique relationship, but the kingdom was comfortable dealing with a dungeon that was so erudite and giving. "The city of West Reaches, the hub of the western arm of the kingdom, severed its ties with the capital. It cut me in half and I wouldn't have survived if not for the support from every city, two gods—and two dungeons. Thank you." Even as it thanked the dungeon, the kingdom still felt a distinct loss of a huge portion of the genius loci that gave it life. It felt a little like that dragon, but with one wing torn asunder.

Travis put the facts together and didn't like what he came up with. "Will this mean there's a war coming?"

"Almost certainly."

"Can you give the King a message for me?" Travis only had a faint hint of assent, but it was enough for him to go on. "Tell him to let Penelope know where, and she can place a dungeon exit. I will support him with everything I can."

The vehemence of Travis, echoed in Breeze, elated the kingdom. It had never worked with the dungeons of its cities before, but from Northridge it could feel no hesitation in its endorsement of them. "I will pass this on."

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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.