Bollo the Bald slammed his meaty hands onto each of Quinn’s shoulders with a boastful roar. “A bloody dragon!” he said, voice deep with wisdom and age, his hairy eyebrows raised in respect of his friend. “One of our bloody own took down one of those fire-breathing dick-pigeons from the Chasm of Death! All of you twats, a round on Bollo, get yourself some ale!”

  The drinkers of the Leaky Knight raised their empty tankards with a loud applause for Bollo.

  “You can’t afford that,” Fiasco joked. She sat at the table laden with meaty meals and snapped a leg off a cooked turkey. “Who do you expect to pick up your debts, hm?”

  Bollo only laughed, ordering a round for the table from the busty barmaid. “Who bloody cares? Captain Quinn got a dragon.” He shown the scar on his chest by dragging down his collar. “Look at this, fuckin’ dragon gave me this decades ago—the scales are even now… now we’ve gotta tip it onto our side.”

  Quinn cleared his throat after giving Fiasco a quick kiss, pulling up a stool. “You look nice,” he told her. “Not that often I see you in the gowns of a tavern maiden.”

  “Not that often I see you in anything other than your pants and your cape… I see today is a little different, you’ve lost your cape in the wind it seems.” She blew him a kiss. Bollo pretended to grab it as it crossed the table, feigning its weight in his palm as he ‘threw’ it into the fireplace.

  A man so stumpy yet acting so youthful, Quinn thought. If I were to become an old man, I would wish to keep his attitude… unless his attitude is what caused him to go bald.

  “Speaking of maidens in gowns,” Bollo said, “look at who’s ‘ere for the celebration!”

  Zishang spread his arms with an inviting chuckle, the two locked into a tight hug like two long-lost friends reuniting after years.

  “Gods, you got big,” Bollo said. “How long has it been? Barely see you out of your armour anymore.”

  “You saw me three days ago,” said Zishang. “You must be on the fall, shrinking by the hour, you’ll be a dwarf before we know it.”

  Fiasco explained Bollo’s impulsive call for free drinks to all to Zishang. Like a gentleman, he bowed, raised his hand, and pledged all the coin in his pocket to the barkeep. “Make it two rounds,” he said. “This is a tremendous celebration.”

  “Didn’t feel like a celebration when that gold cunt had me kneel at his throne,” Quinn scoffed. “Is Bianca not coming?”

  “She is pre-occupied—Godwin summoned her on a whim. She will be here in due time.” He took a knife and cut a triangle from the wheel of cheese. “King Godwin will see you what you are in time, there is a place on the other side of his throne for you… I see that future where we make our family proud.”

  “I have no family, only you,” Quinn scoffed. “And I will never be a glorified personal guard for King Godwin…”

  “Play nice now,” Bollo advised. “Maybe you can officiate your marriage to the girl... stop hiding it in secret, give us a little bouncing bundle of joy before I’m buried.”

  “Your mother would be proud of your achievements if you were to write her a letter.” Zishang sat down and pulled a folded note from his pocket. “She writes to me all the time, says she doesn’t think you receive her letters.”

  “I do and I don’t,” Quinn scoffed, chugging ale. “Tell her to send more letters, I need more tinder for my winter fires.”

  “Quinn—”

  “Zishang,” he interrupted. “I will never send a word her. If you ask me to write to yours I will happily wish her well. She was kind to me always. But my mother, I would rather die in the name of Prince Harren than give her an opportunity to rebuild that bridge. That woman can go fuck herself.”

  Bollo and Fiasco awkwardly ate their food.

  “She has changed,” Zishang claimed. “I would not lie to my own blood… especially you, Quinn. Like I said when you arrived, you are not my cousin, you are my brother. She simply didn’t see your potential like I did, like we did.”

  “If she didn’t love me at my lowest, I don’t care for what she has to offer when I am at my highest.”

  “I will send letters to her at Arcyril on your behalf. I will tell her that you simply need time.”

  “Tell her what you wish. That letter shall be littered with lies. A waste of ink and effort.”

  “Ain’t my place to say, but if I still had my mama I’d write to her daily. I miss her all the time,” Bollo said. “I know Fiasco’s ones died when King Godwin sent Stroke up against Naveen… a terrible plan, how he thought that was a good idea was beyond me.”

  Fiasco raised her tankard as a silent toast and drank it honour of their mention.

  “You are right,” Quinn said with a long pause. “It is not your place to say. She shunned me upon seeing my arms, now I shun her existence. Balance, Bollo, those fucking scales shall never tilt in either direction.”

  “A different topic.” Fiasco cleared her throat. “Did you hear all of those Sentinels wailing before?”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Yeah,” Zishang said. “That’s why Bianca was summoned.”

  “Maybe King Godwin found a frog in his boot, ha!” Bollo yelled while drinking. “Or maybe they found the kidnapped girl.”

  Quinn hung his head down in shame. “Maybe they did,” he said low, knowing she was dead. “One can only pray for her return.”

  The tavern doors flung open. Authority drifted in like a fog as powerful footsteps brought silence. The drinkers lowered their cups, the singers lost their voices. Many dropped to one knee and lowered their heads. Zishang was the only one from the table that bowed.

  “My king,” Quinn said. “We are at your service.”

  Godwin, Harren, Killian, and Bianca stood in a line. Fifty Valan guards rushed in and surround the words, covering the windows, a handful of archers rushed up the stairs and nocked their arrows.

  “Get out!” Godwin boomed. “Peasants, get out!”

  They squeezed between the guards and left the tavern.

  “My king?” Zishang said in confusion. “Are you upset with us?”

  Bianca summoned her Dragonhammer to her side. A weapon of great power, a shimmer of purple to the long, metal handle. One half was unbreakable stone, inscribed with glowing blue runes that no witch or wizard could identify—the other half was living flesh, the head of a dragon, purple eyes that followed where she looked. She held it firmly, the weight cracking the planks where summoned.

  “You have done nothing wrong, Zishang,” she promised.

  “You will not speak on behalf of the king,” Harren snarled.

  “Brother,” Godwin said sternly. “Need I remind you of what I said?”

  “No, my king,” he grunted.

  “Y’know, if weren’t on the same side, I’d’ve thought you were here to execute us,” Fiasco said. “Are you—”

  “Shut your mouth,” Godwin boomed.

  Quinn felt angry, gritting his teeth.

  Godwin pointed to a lone figure at the bar. “Him,” he growled. “You’ve let an enemy get close to you.”

  Death finished his meal with a sigh. He stood from his stool and raised his arms in feigned surrender. “An enemy, yes,” he mused. “I am of course the cambion you’re looking for. Congratulations on slaying that dreaded dragon, Cum Master, must’ve been an amazing shot.”

  Quinn stood violently with a roar after seeing Death’s eyes. He charged, whacking away chairs and any obstacles in his path.

  Death pulled his knife from his belt. “Until one of us falls?”

  “You’re damned right, bastard!”

  In a flash, Godwin and Harren were between them. Harren had a finger on Quinn’s chest; Godwin had on Death’s. They released the power of the God Arms on them. Quinn flew into Bollo. Death’s back smacked flat against a cobble wall and he fell into a table.

  Quinn was in pain. He charged again.

  “You do not charge at the prince.” Killian grabbed Quinn by the hair and dragged him like a disobedient dog, slamming him into the ground and punching him repeatedly.

  Fiasco called upon her gifts. The runes on her arms glowed red, Killian was forced still by a magical mist—he resisted it, grabbing the handle of his sword, blood flowing out of his fingernails and into the blade.

  “You little bitch,” Killian growled. “A long time overdue. I will show you why they call me the Blood Swordsman.”

  Bianca stopped the fight by weakly hitting them both with her Dragonhammer.

  “Do not fight amongst ourselves,” she ordered. “We are heroes, not savages—Quinn, cease your charges; Fiasco, stand down.”

  “I’m trying!” she squealed. Her gift was taking over her, ripping into her own skin. “I can’t stop it! I—I can’t!”

  Harren appeared in front of her and flicked her in the head with the power of the God Arm. Zishang caught her unconscious body.

  “Is she okay?” Bollo knelt and checked for any cuts.

  “She’s fine,” Zishang said. “Her gifts are stable.”

  “Bastard,” Quinn mumbled.

  “What did you say, dog?” Harren threatened him with the sickle. “That is no way to speak to your prince.”

  “Settle down,” Bianca said. “You attacked Fiasco.”

  “She was unhinged.”

  “She is one of us.”

  Harren remembered his promise to Godwin and left, gifting Quinn with spit to his eye.

  “Use that in your water gifts,” he joked. “Weak dog.”

  That power is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, Death thought. I know the feeling of withheld strength… that was controlled, this was a stupid idea… he could’ve killed me then and there… but he didn’t, he needs me alive for something… or perhaps he is too cowardly.

  “You are the man who bested Quinn and Killian,” Godwin said.

  Killian was annoyed by that comment. “My king, I—”

  “Shut your mouth!” he screamed. “Or do you wish to be turned into a pile of meat, dog? Stop your barking or I will burn you in the flames of the Sentinels.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “You must be Godwin,” Death said drily, limping in pain. “Tell me, do you write your letters in cursive and sign them with hearts?”

  “You’re brazen to enter my city,” Godwin snarled. “Killing my people, ruining the peace, who do you think you are?”

  “I’ve been trying to find that out.”

  “Should I seize him?” Bianca suggested. “What’s your order? Command me to kill him and I shall squish him where he stands.”

  Death made notes of their faces and names in his mind. I see two women… Fiasco and Bianca… one seems too unhinged and lowly to orchestrate this business, the other seems too busy wishing to be a hero while the others drag her down… I can make a guess that none of these are the writer of the letter.

  “Take him to the Blacksteel Dungeons,” Godwin ordered. “Find the other two. I will torture the three of them as a pack.”

  Bianca and Harren took Death by his arms and dragged him out of the tavern. Death was willing, biding his time, already plotting ways to kill every single one of them.

  I want the God Arms, Death thought. Those are a prize worthy of me… I need them. I crave them. They shall be mine.