The tall grass tickled Carbuncle’s nose as he walked.

An undulating sea of green stretched far beyond the horizon surrounded him no matter where he turned, save a break or two from an aberrant and stubborn tree poking out. Another pure blue sky hung above, seemingly forgetting the fierce storm it threw upon them not just five minutes ago.

“Eh, don’ worry, bud. We’re almost there!” His guide was a bit scruffy, but seemed to know this seemingly infinite grassland like the back of his scarred hand. “The city shouldn’ be too far now…”

With yet another cursory turnaround, Carbuncle began to doubt his eccentric tour guide.

The man was a sort unique to this area. After spending time with the pale bipedal people below in The Underground, the tribe this man was a part of seemed to revel in the oppressive two suns that hung above. He stood tall, with a tanned hide, and hairless, save the greying braid utop his head. Truly strange.

“Squeak?”

“Nah, I know it nearby. When the city move, everyone knows where it goe’.” The guide had a sort of pride in his work, and for the fee Carbuncle paid, he was unsure whether or not it was worth it.

Carbuncle stopped to scratch his ear. His legs were sore for the first time this journey, having now spent almost two weeks combing through the grasslands with his guide. The Noble city of Stiltburgh was the one of the two that still remained above ground, a seemingly illusory town that was the frustration of the Miracle forces above. Twice on the trip the two had to avoid the patrol of low flying ships, seeking to scrub the sentient life beneath the sun.

“I think we’re here!” The guide called out, snapping Carbuncle from his reflections.

Seemingly from nowhere, a sprawling city stretched out before them, a wood and cobblestone mass of buildings and structures built low to the ground stood above the sea of grass as creatures now moved between those, enjoying the warm Summer day.

“Alright friend, I’ll be taking my payment now.”

The type of common people changed drastically. Gone were the simple hairless bipeds of the tribes of Hunters, now upright birds have taken their claim. Sharing the same body structure, the denizens of the moving city were covered head to claw in sometimes striking feathers. The facial structures were perhaps the most apparent difference, now each with a variety of shapes and sizes of beak adorning the visage of the individual.

While the rapidly changing environment felt the same, with the creatures moving to and fro, conducting commerce or quickly heading towards a choice destination, the environment could not be any different. Gone were the stretched animal skin tents and open brandishment of absurdly huge weapons and in its place were elaborate buildings purposefully engineered not to stretch too high or attract too much attention from the oppressive force above.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to travel with such a brute. But I’m sure he was as useful as his kind tends to be.”

The tall, bespeckled robin was hit on the shoulder by a much shorter featherless girl, “D’aww! Uncle Murrabak ain’t no brute! All he needs is a good shower and he’d be as posh as any ol’ dandy in the court!”

Looking around, Carbuncle was just as amazed with these two’s navigation skills as he was with his previous guide’s. “Squeak?”

The girl squeezed the tiny purple creature tighter, “Yup! The castle is right around the corner! The king’s been talking my ear off about how he finally gets to meet you!” Her armor poked into his skin a bit, but he was more concerned about his rapidly constricting trachea.

Coming out of an alleyway, the three stood before a tower that stretched high into the sky, defiantly standing far above the more modest abodes. With a broad structure underneath, the ivory tower reached towards the two suns, seemingly stating it will take one and rip it from the sky.

Curiously enough, the tower was only seen once they had left the sprawling streets and alley behind them.

“I apologize we could not get you here any quicker. Matella likes to take the more inefficient way through town.” Not a hint of emotion could be read from the bird man’s face.

With a sudden burst of speed, the fellow knight skipped into the castle square, “Pssh! I figured we could shoot two planes with one arrow! We guide our guest while finishing our patrol!” Looking down at her strangled hostage, she smiled, “Don’t let Michelo the Miserable tell you a little sightseeing would slow you down!”

The area around what must have been Castle Siltburgh was open, free from the claustrophobia most of the city held, short from the occasional bustling street. Here, Matella’s and Murrabak’s hairless kin could be seen intermingling with the birdfolk. Large birds of prey circled above, conducting a sort of traversal their ground counterparts partook in as well.

Posh carpets and fine fixtures felt miniscule within the broad castle. Artificial lighting hung from the ceiling and paintings adorned the walls, luxuries Carbuncle had not seen in all of his journeys. Those coated in armor overtook the more plainly dressed commonfolk from outside.

“The king requests only a few more minutes before seeing you. He is addressing the increase in crime along the outskirts of the city now that food has unfortunately grown a tad more scarce with the perceived uptick in surveys.”

The bird man was slapped on the shoulder for the fifth time in this short trek, “What he means is: the king will be here shortly! Don’t worry your cute little head!”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

With a final head rub from the girl, the two left to continue their duties, leaving Carbuncle alone in a well-lit seating chamber. Few found their way through this far into the interior of the castle, and those that did looked to be concentrating on quite difficult business.

“Psst!” A hissing tone emanated from the wall behind him, “Are tweedle-dee and tweedle-stupid gone?”

Relaxing his stance utop his cushioned chair, Carbuncle turned his head to the wall, “Squeak?”

“Ah, good! My back was starting to hurt!”

From behind a dark wood shelf, barely pushing the furniture from the small space behind, a small blackbird wearing a hooded cloak emerged. Her high pitched voice conveyed her femininity and her large eyes and tiny statue informed Carbuncle she was but a child.

A sudden crash caused her to look up over the table, and see the ornate lamp balanced utop had found its way onto the floor. With a snap of her neck towards the sitting Carbuncle, she glared at him, “I can’t believe you broke that, whoever-you-are!”

Before he could chirp in response, the girl ran off into another room, leaving him with the shattered lamp scattered across the expensive carpet.

“Treasured envoy of The Storms! I, Arharietham Stiltburgh VIII and my friends, welcome you to our humble city!”

The old man stood before his throne adorned in white robes head-to-toe, save an opening for his face which was graced with a gilded crown. White hair tumbled from within the pious looking robes, draping his lined face. Deep bags hung from his eyes, but were forced away by the smile he wore.

“I hope you found our beloved Stiltburgh to be accommodating and worthy of your long and arduous trek, rarely do we have such amicable visitors that come from afar!” Armored knights lined the halls leading to the throne, each a solid color, forming a rainbow of metal. His second guides, Matella and Michelo were in attendance amongst them. “I’m sure you made the journey for more than our famous Palisades, a modest pastry you have most assuredly tried while waiting.”

Carbuncle’s stomach had never felt more full than after downing an entire plate of the fluffy breads covered in powdered sugar. “Squeak!”

The court laughed. Even the most tempered and battlescarred of knights could not help but grin. “You’re too much, my little friend! Glad to see even the gods have a sense of humor!”

As the room quieted down, the housecat-sized creature chirped once more, “Squeak.”

The king’s face dropped. The lines on his face etched deeper into his skin, horrid wrinkles that had worked themselves in there through months of unease. “I understand.” He muttered, and with a booming voice, he called out, “Knights! You are dismissed! Please return to your stations!”

The line of knights on both walls exited the room in single file, not a misstep between any of them. Soon, it was only the king and the Treasure within the audience hall. “Is what you say true?”

“Squeak.”

The king clutched his heart, he stumbled over to the throne, needing it’s support to still stay upright. “So it seems our time has come. Our short dream of peace would surely end, thrusting us back into the reality we are too afraid to face…”

Standing up right, he brushed off his robes and feigned calm. “Come. The deal you wish to broker must be conducted with those who can truly speak for our people.”

Soon, the two silently walked through a dark hallway, the stones slick with condensation. The torch King Stiltburgh held flickered as he solemnly guided his guest. Carbuncle followed closely behind, the light his gem normally radiated felt dimmer, a consequence of his actions.

Stopping before an opening, the king quenched his torch, no longer needed due to the pale blue light seeping into the tunnel, “Before we enter, Gemmed One, I wish to say that even though my voice carries no weight, I disagree with your endeavors. As a child of war, I am unsure there will ever be peace, for it is a fictitious idea peddled by juvenile romanticists in a hope to sleep just a few minutes longer in one’s own bed. I am unsure what your greater aim is here, but I hope it still stands through the fires of the Council.”

Carbuncle nodded before the two stepped into the chamber.

A blue light radiated from above. Artificial, yet somehow organic. The chamber was a wide cylinder, formed from the black bricks that led them into the underground compound. It was there Carbuncle saw his first dragon. Not just one, but five surrounded them in the chamber. Some bound with chains, others adorned with golden crowns and armor. Each carried centuries of wisdom and dignity as they remained stationed within their spots.

“Stiltburgh…” A low voice echoed through the chamber, “Is this truly the Treasure?”

The old man looked back at Carbuncle nervously, “Of- of course this is, your excellency. He travelled from the center of The Storms himself to propose a solution for not only us, but Ul’Dana at large.”

All five voices hummed in unison. Their ancient minds churned the possibilities and actions that led to this moment.

“Treasure…” Another voice rang through, it’s timbre reverberated through their bodies, “I must say I expected more… You only currently hold a fraction of your power, no?”

Hastier than the previous two, a third voice cut through the air, “It is apparent you are lacking in strength. Would the Treasure of the Storms himself dare step into a den of dragons, propose a deal, and lack the power to back up his claim?”

“Wait, Hadrian.” The fourth dragon spoke with a much more shaky tone, most likely the elder amongst the already archaic beings, “Listen, you fool! Even at a fraction of his capacity, he still outranks all five of us at our peak! Years of pretending to be a leader rotted that simple mind of yours!”

A final voice quickly interjected, “Enough! We have an eternity to argue amongst ourselves. Allow our guest to propose his offer. Ideally, he would not require the force most of you wish to see like imputant children.”

Carbuncle looked between all five dragons perched on their seats. They towered over any and every living thing that sought their council. It very well could have been centuries since any of them had seen daylight. His kingly envoy’s gaze quickly darted between each speaker, a fly on the wall compared to a meeting of beings such as this.

“Squeak!”

Each dragon flinched as the claim echoed through their chamber, forcing their ears open. A pause.

Each of the primal beings looked amongst each other, wordlessly deciding who to offer up to make a counter-argument. Finally, the first dragon spoke once more, “An… Ostentatious claim you make, Treasure of the Storms…”

“Y-yes…” The dragon called Hadrian interjected once more, “If I may say, this would be a preposterous offer if it was not coming from one such as yourself…”

The dragons held council once more, discussing any potential hang-ups or pitfalls. Carbuncle looked towards King Stiltburgh once more, the elderly man’s robes grew less white while his face became decidedly more so.

With a clearing of one of their throats, the fourth dragon finally silenced the others, “The council has come to a consensus,” He looked towards his compatriots once again to ensure he had their blessing, “We have unanimously decided to go along with your scheme, Treasure. While most of us believe it to be absurd, you would not have travelled across the world to our humble chamber just to tell jokes. As such, we accept your offer and give you our sincerest prayers on the rest of your crusade.”

The remaining fraction of Carbuncle’s gem glimmered in the blue light.