Days later, Fritz and his companions sat within the church of Freyes, around a large circular table. A discordant pile of playing cards sat in the middle of the table. To Fritz's right, Ada threw down a card. Neva was next, with the beginnings of a wry grin, she threw another card down. Two cards were left in her hand. Victory for her part was almost entirely assured. Brenn was next, casually placing a card down. Gaspard followed suit, followed by Marcelle. Each player kept a measured silence. Neva leaned back into her chair, idly puffing the fat cigar in her mouth. Gaspard nursed the too large tankard of ale calmly staring at his hand glumly.

Behind Fritz, the same annoying elf kept prattling on about escaping the city. His head throbbed with a dull ache. Constantly using his powers had left him mentally exhausted. Gunpowder, cannon balls, iron ingots, silver daggers, holy water, cigars, whiskey and beef jerky, it all needed to be conjured to keep his plans moving forward. His mind absently watched the game before him as he kept running through the next tasks awaiting him tomorrow. His brows pulled towards his blue bloodshot eyes as he concentrated.

Beneath her long obscuring black hair, Marcelle watched Fritz like a hawk. The fierce look of annoyed intelligence drew her purple eyes like a moth to flame. His large hands played absentmindedly with the remaining cards in his hand. His broad shoulders sagged slightly with the weight of mounting expectations. Absentmindedly Fritz let his fist cradle his rugged chin. The scruffy look of unkempt facial hair bunched up underneath his fist, as his eyes seemed to look away in thought. The alchemist couldn't help it. Her mind was a flurry of fiery hypotheses searching for answers to his thoughts.

"Champion. Listen to me." Mynuru grabbed his shirt, trying to wrest Fritz's attention.

"What?" Fritz grumbled. "Hurry up, Marcelle." His cold, tired eyes locked onto hers. A shiver of panic jolted through her, as his attention drew down upon her. Her heart quickened as blood rushed upwards to her face.

"Don't tell me what to do and do not rush me! I must think!" Marcelle hissed. Turning her head, she adjusted her long hair, blocking sight of Fritz's features. A measure of color graced her cheeks. She quickly threw down a card onto the pile. Peeking towards Fritz she saw him look back towards his cards. A slight frown of annoyance tugged at the corner of his lips. His defined brows pulled down for a moment as he thought. Marcelle couldn't help but stare.

"Champion. The city is a waste of time. The elven lands are offering you protection. Take the chance. Now! The city is doomed! We elves can protect you! We can offer far more than these pathetic beastkin." The elven princess yanked on his shirt again. The champion grunted in annoyance.

"Don't do that. Get your hands off." Fritz said. His voice was monotone and tired, just like Marcelle's after a long night studying. The elven princess scowled. Her perfect fingers gripped into his shirt tighter, begging for his attention.

"You are making a mistake." She seethed. "You lesser beings lose sight of the greater purpose. Do not make the same mistakes as your kin. Think past this city. Think to your true mission."

"I don't care." Fritz said.

"You don't care?! What is wrong with you?" The princess asked. She pulled upon his shirt, forcing him to turn towards the elven princess.

"Stop." Fritz said.

"I'm not going to stop! You're gonna listen-" Princess Mynuru began before suddenly cutting off.

Fritz's hand shot out. A hypodermic needle pierced into her leg. The princess's eyes went wide as her muscles relaxed. She crumpled instantly, slumping into the floor like her bones were made of jelly.

"Princess! Fiend!" Her bodyguard screamed as Mynuru fell to the floor. A whip of flame flashed around his neck. Neva shot to her feet pulling the elven male into a headbutt. Skull cracked against skull. His body jolted, muscles spasming as if a shot of lighting hit him. Like an extinguished candle, the bodyguard joined the princess on the floor.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Marcelle's heart beat fast. Her purple eyes ran over his exposed collar bone, drinking in the danger zone of his chest. Fritz's lip turned upwards in disgust as he looked at the elf. Within Marcelle's mind, she screamed for Fritz to look at her like that.

"Do they ever shut up?" Fritz asked venomously.

"Tsk. Tsk. She is royalty. You shouldn't treat her like that. It's bad for diplomatic relations." Gaspard chided him. "What would our fair city do if we are attacked by vengeful elves?"

"I don't care. She's in the way. Besides, you don't seem too concerned." Fritz said as he tossed a card down, returning his attention to the game.

"Is she dead? Are the elves gonna attack us too?" Ada asked. She leaned back looking down towards the two limp elves.

"She's not dead, just sedated." Fritz replied. "Thanks for the assistance, Neva."

"Thank me, with another cigar." Without looking Fritz tossed one over the table. Neva caught it with practiced ease, stuffing it into her pockets. Marcelle kept staring. Her purple eyes followed the route of his exposed collar bone, back and forth like a never ending loop.

"Before she wakes up, how are the guards managing the new weapons?" Fritz asked.

"They're in love." Gaspard said coolly. "My brother came by earlier to see what all the commotion was about."

"Bad news?" Neva asked as she let out a huge exhale of tobacco.

"He threatened my men. Should they interfere with his battle he will have them executed. The fight with the vampiric spawn shall be his. He will fight with his sacred band, and prove his martial prowess."

"We will be there to defend the city, not to seek glory." Fritz said absentmindedly.

"News has spread out to nearby communities. Warriors and curious fools are coming to the city. Those who want to fight are begging to be let into Javert's sacred band."

"How many are with him?" Fritz asked.

"Three hundred adventurers at the most, all spread out amongst various inns and taverns."

"It's a shame they're not defending a mountain pass." Fritz commented. His companions looked at him strangely. Marcelle's eyes were the strangest of them all. "Human joke. Ignore me."

"Regardless, the guards are taking to the cannons nicely. The mortars are another story. They hate them in comparison. They feel insulted." Gaspard cleared his throat as he went to imitate one of his guardsmen. "And I quote 'Why do I have to be stuck with the little one? It is not manly.'"

"I keep telling them, the shot we will use against the undead will explode."

"It doesn't matter. They love the cannons. They are loud and the cannonballs destroy anything in their path." Gaspard said. Fritz rolled his eyes.

"I'm planning more." Fritz said. "We need explosives to deter any mass assault. C-4 and napalm should do just fine. Killing the vampires is our greatest issue. Silver stilettos are already on my list. Everyone keeps begging me for holy water, even Javert's idiots." Fritz started rubbing his temple.

"Don't worry cutey, we've got plenty of experience killing vampires. Don't we, Neva?" Brenn gave the smoking beastkin a wink.

"No idea what you're talking about." Neva grumped.

"Come on! Spill the beans! Tell us! Tell us!" Ada whined as she playfully jabbed into Neva's ribs. The graying beastkin swatted at Ada's hands defending herself.

"It's not my place to tell." Neva replied grumpily, wiggling the cigar in her mouth.

"Gaspard, I'm gonna give some of your most trusted men some muskets to deal with armored opponents." Fritz said.

"Muskets?" He asked, quivering his eyebrow.

"A miniature cannon that can be operated by a single person. I would like to make it expressly clear. I'm holding back, giving your men outdated weapons until such a time as I can trust them. The shotgun I wield is far more modern. It is far more effective than a musket. I quite frankly don't trust these beastkin to use modern weapons safely."

"Good thinking. They were already whispering about slaying dragons." Neva grunted.

"Marcelle." Fritz said. The lamia jumped up slightly, as her entire body tensed up. "Can I ask for your expertise soon? We need something to beef up the guard. To at least make sure they can stand their ground against a superior foe. Can we rely on some of your potions?"

Marcelle squeaked out a reply in the affirmative. Fritz thanked her before returning to his hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she looked at the exhausted man. Had he always looked like this? Did he slip something in her drink? What was wrong with her? Why did his eyes look so determined and yet so exhausted? What happened to him? What was happening to her? Her mind raced over the myriad of pointless questions, as she stared at him. Why wasn't he looking at her? The game wasn't that interesting. She was far more interesting.

"Marcelle, it's your turn." Fritz reminded her.

"I know!" Marcelle hissed. "Don't rush me!"