“I don’t mean to be uncharitable,” said Lady Hammerfell after Harald fell silent, “but the simplest solution may be to just kill your friend.”

  Harald wasn’t even shocked. There was no denying the fact. Kill Vic, and the temporal anchor that allowed the Handmaidens to stay in Flutic would be severed.

  Then again, that would only delay Harald having to fight them. And… much as Vic had made a true mess of things, much as Vic was the architect of his own misery, Harald couldn’t kill his friend. Murder Vic? Extinguish the roguish companion that had seen him through so many dark and terrible moments of his youth? As well, of course, as dragging him into so many problems?

  Vic.

  Harald sighed. How could someone be at once so charming and endearing, yet so thoughtless and self-serving?

  “No,” said Sam. Harald jerked his head up in surprise. “We’re not murdering Vic to deal with this situation. Murder might be practical, but it’s not who we are. Vic is a Throne Hunter—for better or worse. We have to try and save him.”

  Lady Hammerfell leaned back in the massive chair Anna had furnished her, causing it to creak. “Idealistic. I applaud your morals, even if they’re going to make Flutic suffer.”

  “Sam’s right. And.” Harald glanced to Anna, who sat, stiff-backed, in formal wear in the corner of her library. “There’s an opportunity here. If we kill Vic, Flutic returns to civil war. Nothing gained. His arrival with the Handmaidens will have just proven a momentary interruption.”

  “You have a plan,” said Anna.

  “The beginnings of one.”

  Nessa sighed and sat back in her chair.

  “The beginnings of the beginnings of one,” amended Harald, glancing at her. “Kársek has already volunteered to rousing the dwarves out of Deepforge. Lady Hammerfell, you’re a prodigious force in your own right, but you mentioned being able to possibly command the loyalty of other House Drakenhart raiders?”

  Lady Hammerfell inclined her head.

  “The plan is this: we crash the coronation tomorrow when all the Handmaidens are together and wipe them out. There will be representatives there from all the Houses; when they see the Handmaidens under attack, and especially once they see them losing, they’ll be inclined to jump in and help so as to claim after that they were on the winning side. Plus, I bet they’re absolutely besides themselves with loathing over having to bend knee to Vic.”

  Anna grimaced. “You’re assuming we can put the Handmaidens on the defensive. And that the other Houses won’t leap to their defense in order to earn their favor.”

  “That’s where the second part of my plan comes in.” Harald leaned forward with a grin. “We have a little under twenty Bells to visit each House, or the best candidates, at any rate, with Lady Hammerfell and yourself to offer them a new plan: to ally with us against the demons and help strike them down.”

  “And they would agree to this, why?” asked Lady Hammerfell, tone mellow.

  “That’s where the plan needs a little refinement. A mixture of rod and carrot. Anna is of unimpeachable virtue—” It was almost as if he could hear Vic snort somewhere, and Harald hesitated, waiting for the crude comment that could never come. “—and we could position her as a central rallying figure. A neutral party, like Gorkin. We tell everyone that this is a chance to reset the city to how things were, before. Anna takes custody of the Twilight Crown, and everyone stands down from civil war.”

  “Where’s the rod?” asked Anna.

  “We’re looking at her,” said Harald. “Lady Hammerfell, if I may be so bold, you’d crush anyone who refuses to agree. A display of power to cow those who think they stand to benefit.”

  “So, we can’t kill your companion Vic, but you want me to kill anyone who refuses to go along with your plan?” Lady Hammerfell didn’t sound upset, merely amused. “Your morals are eminently flexible, it seems.”

  “Vic initiated this mess out of a desire to help Flutic. He actually thought the demons would be under his control. He wanted to depose the nobility and uplift the poor.” Harald raised a palm to cut off objections that Lady Hammerfell didn’t seem eager to make. “Look, I know. But that’s how his Demon Seed has warped him. And it led to his making a terrible mistake and bringing the Handmaidens to the city. But anyone who chooses to openly align with Eclavistra? They’re purposefully and knowingly choosing evil.”

  Anna shook her head slowly. “You’re overestimating my appeal.”

  “The appeal is twofold,” said Harald. “Some might agree because they want to avoid future bloodshed. But most would agree to your being the custodian because they think you easily swayed or killed. They’ll agree to your having the Crown so they can take it right after. Which is fine. Our first objective is to get rid of the Handmaidens. Once they’re gone, we can pacify the Houses, if need be.”

  “That,” said Nessa archly, “and nobody even knows where the Crown is.”

  Harald grinned. “If it doesn’t turn up, then Anna doesn’t even need to guard it. And we can claim we believed Vic had it all along.”

  “Hmm.” Lady Hammerfell ran one finger over her lips. “I’m not opposed to the idea. These Handmaidens aren’t nearly as dangerous as they believe. With the aid of the dwarves, we may not even need the help of the Houses. That being said, I’m not opposed to overwhelming force so as to minimize our losses.”

  “Vic said they drove off a Gold-ranker,” protested Sam.

  “Thornar Blackhammer,” laughed Lady Hammerfell. “Doran’s grizzled guard dog. Thornar was once a tremendous fighter, it’s true, but he’s lost his nerve. He’s very much become a ‘live to fight another day’ kind of raider and now gets by on his old reputation more than anything. I’m sure he panicked and ran.” Lady Hammerfell shrugged. “That’s not to say that a dozen of these demons couldn’t prove problematic, but if the dwarves are able to muster enough elite fighters…?”

  All eyes turned to Kársek, who was cleaning out his pipe over a cloth laid across his lap. “I can’t be sure as to the extent of Deepforge’s strength. I must speak with them first. But as a DreadRune, I command respect. If I request that they aid in exterminating these Handmaidens, I am sure they will come. No self-respecting dwarf would choose to live under the open rule of gathul.”

  “That sounds like our first course of action, then,” said Harald. “Determining what kind of power the dwarves can bring to the field.”

  “Temper your expectations,” said Kársek. “Deepforge is a mercantile outpost that depends on the protection of the Flutic City Watch as much as it does its own ability to call for vengeance from Dumr?n. It is not a military fortification.”

  “Still,” said Harald. “Will you go speak with them? We’ll proceed with approaching the Houses, then circle back tomorrow morning to see where we stand.”

  Kársek inclined his head. “That I can do.”

  Anna rose to stand before the crackling hearth, fingers of one hand twisting at an amethyst ring on the index finger of the other. “House Celestara is lost to us. Our role in Melisende’s murder and Josse’s belief that he is sworn to Vic through the Twilight Crown means they won’t dare oppose the coronation.”

  “A pity,” said Lady Hammerfell. “Yseult Khan is one of the few raiders I respect.”

  “If we were to enact your plan, Harald, then the first House we should approach would be Viridian.” Anna’s tone had grown pensive. “They are wise, cautious, and dominant in the market for magical Artifacts. Lady Verdant is highly respected, partially due to her aversion to politics, and has refused to be embroiled in this civil war.”

  “That,” agreed Lady Hammerfell, “and House Viridian boasts two respectable Gold-rankers: Orin Vex and Newt One-Eye. Both are famous for their subtlety; they don’t charge into battle like I do.” Lady Hammerfell smiled. “But they’re canny fighters, and potent. I’d feel much better going into battle against the Handmaidens with them by my side.”

  “House Veridian it is,” said Harald.

  “Perversely, we might have another option,” said Nessa. “Harald’s father shared in a letter to him that Silvershield is beholden to a demon, and we know Thornvale is Silenthros’ plaything. Neither House would be happy to have a rival demon rule over them.”

  “Is that so?” asked Lady Hammerfell, brows widening. “Lady Mirella Argent is loyal to a demon?” Then she laughed, delighted. “To think! After all these years of preaching peace and seeking to root out corruption. Oh, the hypocrisy is too rich.”

  “Emberfell is out,” said Anna. “Doran loathes us. I believe he’d rather see Eclavistra rule than have to work with our group.”

  “Makes sense,” said Nessa, “seeing as Harald killed his daughter and humiliated him in front of all the other Houses.”

  “That was Doran’s doing,” protested Sam. “If he—”

  “I know, I know.” Nessa waved her hand. “But if you go around expecting rational responses from old men in power, you’re doomed to disappointment.”

  “So Celestara and Emberfell are out,” said Harald. “Leaving only Drakenhart.”

  “Whom I can pillage,” said Lady Hammerfell. “If enough raiders follow me, the new lordling won’t have a choice.”

  Kársek rose to his feet, his pipe bundled once more in its cloth and stowed in a wooden case. “I shall be off, then. I’ll return or send word here once I have news.”

  Harald stood and extended his hand. “We’ll send word to Deepforge to keep you abreast of developments. Good luck.”

  Kársek’s grip was strong, and his smile was wolfish. “Where I’m going, I won’t need luck. You all keep your heads about you.” And he nodded to Lady Hammerfell, sketched a shallow bow to Anna, and strode out of the library.

  “That’s a good man, that dwarf,” said Lady Hammerfell once he was gone. “You’re lucky to have his allegiance.”

  “Agreed,” said Harald. “I don’t take it for granted. So. How do we go about visiting Viridian?”

  “Simple,” said Anna. “I’ll dress appropriately. If one of you could see about acquiring a carriage, I’d be most appreciative.”

  “Didn’t see many hansom cabs looking for business,” said Sam.

  Nessa grinned. “Then we’ll just steal one. We can always return it later. Shall we, Sam?”

  Sam blew out her cheeks. “Fine. Let’s go engage in larceny for the good of the city.”

  Nessa and Sam also bowed to Anna as they departed, though there was a decidedly mocking cast to Nessa’s, and then quit the library.

  “Well.” Anna considered Lady Hammerfell and Harald. “I’m going to consider this further as I prepare to play the role of city savior. I’ve had very few dealings with Lady Verdant, and all of those previously through Sir Gavriel Draken. Our approach needs to be perfect. I’ll…” She frowned and gazed back momentarily into the flames. “I’ll think on it.”

  They both bowed to Anna as she quit the library in turn, and then Lady Hammerfell glanced sidelong at Harald. “It would seem we have an hour in which to entertain ourselves.”

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Harald’s mouth was suddenly dry. The statuesque Lady Hammerfell seemed to fill the room, her gaze knowing, her burgundy hair capturing the firelight as if it were smoldering with its own inner heat. “I… right. What do you suggest?”

  “You’ve grown substantially more powerful since I saw you last. It’s most impressive. How about we find a stretch of lawn outside and see just what you can do?”

  “Oh.” Harald banished his ridiculous thoughts—not that he’d even agree, because his heart belonged to Sam, but— “That would be - wait. You’re Level 14. What can I even do against you, my lady?”

  “Honestly?” She smiled. “Not much. But I’m still curious. Follow.” She paused just as she went to duck her head under the door. “And call me Brianna.”

  Then she was gone, out onto the landing, the floorboards creaking under her every step.

  “Brianna. Right.” Harald took a deep breath, held it, then rubbed vigorously at his face. “Let’s, ah, spar.” The very thought was exhilarating and terrifying, both. Him? Spar against Lady Brianna Hammerfall?

  An image came to him as he hurried after the titanic woman: how she’d stepped onto the Dungeon Plaza during a Shuddering and single-handedly massacred a horde of Terror Birds, sweeping her massive zweihander and pulping hundreds of them in a deluge of force. She’d cleansed an entire third of the plaza with her swings, killing hundreds of birds effortlessly.

  How did you fight a cataclysm?

  Guess he was about to find out.

  They quit the mansion, went out back. Night had fallen. Yellow pools of light played across the grass from a handful of windows; the rest of the manor was kept dark. But the light of the moon was bright, silvering the lawn, and Harald felt invigorated by the darkness.

  He was no enemy of the night.

  Brianna had crossed her seven-foot zweihander across her shoulders, draped her clawed gauntlets over its wicked edge as if she were in the stocks, and wandered out over the grass to stop and gaze up at the moon. Her crimson tabard pooled about her feet—surely a tripping hazard, no? —and her iron dark armor gleamed as if wet. Her hair fell about her shoulders in thick locks, and she looked larger than life, an impossible foe, a force of nature and no mere mortal.

  Harald extended his arm and summoned the Chyron’s Scourge. It filled his palm with reassuring weight, its geode blade rippling with subtle green currents in its stony depths, but Brianna’s blade made it feel like a toy.

  Still. It was Epic ranked. It cut through dimensions.

  Even she would have to be wary of its rough edge.

  For a moment it was all Harald could do but wonder: how powerful did you have to be to duel against someone as dangerous as himself and feel like that was a safe undertaking?

  Well, he’d trust that she knew what she was doing.

  As if recalling their bout, Brianna looked his way, her face pale in the moonlight, her eyes glimmering pools, her expression somewhere between wistful and curious. “What level are you now, Harald?”

  “Nine.” He tried not to sound overly proud.

  “Formidable. I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone rising so swiftly in the ranks. Well. Perhaps Thracos from House Thornvale.” The corner of her lips crooked. “But nobody’s heard from him in weeks.”

  “You flatter me.” Harald brought the Scourge to bear before him, gripping its hilt with both hands. “How do we do this?”

  “You attack me with everything you have. Don’t hold back. I’m genuinely curious.”

  Harald went to protest but killed the instinct. Brianna was listed as the seventh highest ranked raider in Flutic. She had five Thrones active. She had slain a Vortex Hydra on Level 63.

  She wanted to see what he could do?

  Harald allowed himself the slightest of smiles as a frisson of excitement washed over him. Well, he’d show her.

  Tapping his four Thrones, he activated Crown of the Abyssal Tyrant. The abyss stirred about him as ambient dread filled the air, stealing forth like cold, drowning waters, suffusing the night, dimming the moon above. Sounds grew muffled, and his own breath began to puff before him.

  But his normal evocation wouldn’t suffice: he had to make this count, had to crush whatever impossible safeguards Brianna had in place. So Harald hunched his shoulders and willed his consolidated power to crush her, exerted the full strength of his massive Ego in a bid to control her with his dread authority. Her morale would begin to degrade, her will to falter, if she didn’t hesitate or flee outright. The air swirled with his shadows, currents of living darkness, and time for her would grow strange—her instincts would be just subtly off, her reaction time dulled. Her own auras would be muffled or suppressed.

  Harald inhaled deeply, frame expanding, and willed her to feel the pressure of his power. To experience what it was like to be buried alive, to hear the shadows whisper regrets in her ears, for time to slow to a crawl, for her very hope of besting him to wither and die.

  The abyss was his.

  He was its tyrant.

  And Brianna would learn what it meant to go up against an Abyssal Master.

  For a long, tremulous moment the Dragonslayer Knight simply stood her, the center of his dark vortex, the focus of his aggression—and then she began to stroll toward him.

  Not struggling.

  Not staggering.

  Not as if she were walking into strong headwinds.

  But just casually strolling, her blade still athwart her shoulders, chin held high, the corner of her lips yet quirked.

  Harald could feel it. Her armor was drinking in his might. More than that, some form of protection insulated her completely from his will. He might as well have been pouring a torrent of ink-black abyssal waters into a bottomless chasm. She strode toward him, unbent, uncowed, unnoticing of his assault.

  “That’s impressive,” she said, voice muffled by his aura. “Genuinely. The air feels thick, as if I’m underwater. I’m sure this would genuinely terrify most people. You should be proud, Harald.”

  And then she unshouldered her blade, a supple shrug that saw her bring the huge black sword down and around and then upright in one fist alone.

  The blade flared bright white, and the very air changed.

  His instincts bid him run. His predatory nature was cowed. Merely causing her famous sword to incandesce was enough to summon fear within him.

  Before she could do anything else, Harald activated Abyssal Imperium.

  She couldn’t just shrug this off. In a widening radius around him the abyss extended his will, causing space, shadow, and hostile energies to reconfigure themselves to favor his presence. The battlefield itself became hostile terrain as a thousand gleaming blades of black glass began to flow through the air and pour into Brianna, each coated in the very substance of the void, draining all that they cut.

  Brianna laughed, pleasantly surprised, and widened her stance. Something about her posture imparted the strength of mountains, and his thousand blades were akin to a rainstorm trying to wash it away. Her iron armor gleamed, its pauldrons lifting up like wings to shift and shimmer and blur as they provided her unhelmed head with what looked like perfect protection.

  Harald gritted his teeth and leaned into his power. His Thrones were burning hot like furnaces, and he felt his aura, his assault focus exclusively on her, but to no avail.

  Then she was upon him.

  No warning. Faster than he could track she closed the distance, and her burning white sword swung toward him, a lazy stroke like the end of the world.

  Harald summoned Form of the Black Throne even as he raised the Scourge and parried.

  The blow fell upon his geode blade like a collapsing mountainside, causing his shoulder to flare with pain, his arm to shiver, and causing a great ringing clash to sound out. But his whole body sagged beneath the strike as concussive force poured off her sword to flood down upon his shadow-armored body, the plates of black force cracking and shattering, his boots sinking into Anna’s lawn, his head resonating like a tuning fork from the blow.

  A one handed, lazy strike.

  Yet before he could react, before he could do much more than stagger back, the shadows calling to him, bidding him flee, she swung again.

  The huge sword swung out and around, flickerflash, and hit him even harder.

  It was all he could do to not lose his grip on the Scourge. There was a flash of green and white where the swords connected, and this time Harald felt the blow in his chest, as if a huge boot had stomped down on him from above.

  Gasping, reeling, he fell back, his hand numb. Desperate, he summoned the Well of Starless Dominion, cursing himself for not doing so sooner, and felt the reassuring might of the void flood into him, tentacles of shadow boiling forth to reach for Brianna, the Starless Deep blossoming in his chest to connect him to the very essence of the abyss.

  The tentacles that were a composite of Abyssal Grasp and Shadow Dominion snaked around Brianna, who watched them come, bemused. But when they abruptly tightened and coiled about her, Harald felt a flicker of something—her essence, dimly sensed as if at a remove, and his own will reaching to consume it, to drink deep of her power.

  Brianna’s eyes actually widened in surprise.

  The Starless Deep reached for her. That dark void in his core sought to drown her in its chill embrace.

  But the tentacles failed to maintain their grip. Something about her dark iron armor rebuffed their grasp, and she stepped through them, unencumbered.

  Starless Dominion Bestows +1

  Emboldened, strengthened, he leaped away, counting on the Form of the Black Throne to aid him in his shadowy escape, to reposition. But even as he darted aside, she was there—and this time explosively.

  A wave of force detonated as she surged up alongside him, lifting him off the ground as it buckled and cratered beneath her, and sending him flying backward to crash down onto one knee, the Scourge now little more than a prop to keep him from falling.

  But he leaped up, snarling, and he lunged fast and low to get to her side, try to flank and bring the Scourge up and around—only for her to reach out and snag him with one clawed gauntlet.

  Her grip was absolute. It closed about his shadow-armored arm and lifted him clear off the ground. Harald could sense how easily she could shatter his arm, could force him to drop the Scourge—but instead she released him, point made, and stepped back, her huge sword rising once more.

  Backing away, Harald swung the Scourge at her, buying time, and unleashed an arc of sizzling demonic energy. She batted it away with her sword.

  He opened the Starless Deep to her, allowing the very abyss to drain her energy, but could find no traction.

  Starless Dominion Bestows +2

  But even as he felt more power enter his frame, the sheer gulf between them made him straighten, accept what he’d merely known before. The distance between Level 14 and Level 9 was too vast. It felt like fighting Brauxis, if not even more intimidating. Every tool at his disposal, every power, every attack, was neutralized either by her armor, unseen abilities, or her overwhelming power.

  And he knew.

  He knew that she hadn’t even exerted herself. That he hadn’t even seen a tenth of what she could do.

  It beggared the mind.

  Harald dismissed the Scourge and allowed his Thrones to go quiet. He felt shaken, mostly from the power of her blows, his arm throbbing, but there was no pain. There was never any pain.

  He bowed his head. “You are more formidable than I imagined. I’m genuinely awed.”

  Brianna’s sword dimmed and she slung it over her shoulder, where it adhered to her back without the need of a strap. “And you!”

  Was that enthusiasm in her voice? Harald dared glance up. “You are something, Harald Darrowdelve. I actually registered your powers. Could sense them playing upon the edges of my mind. A prickling that I hadn’t even anticipated. If this is you at Level 9, then I can’t wait to duel you when you’re my level.”

  “I…” Her praise felt completely out of line with his performance. “Thank you. I still don’t feel as if I’ve completely grasped how to manage my new consolidated powers, but… honestly, I don’t understand. Why don’t you just go kill these Handmaidens by yourself? Surely you can?”

  Brianna had her hands on her hips and loomed above him like a gleaming monolith in the night. “I probably could, yes. But my entire power suite is ill-suited to fighting twenty such foes.” Her tone turned thoughtful. “I’m a Dragonslayer Knight. I’m at my best when fighting a single, overwhelming threat. Against twenty minor demons? I lack efficiency against numbers. I would have to fight with my Crucible shelved, my Final Pronouncement unusable, my Siegebreaker Cadence unable to compound properly against any one foe, and Wyrm’s Advent wasted on chasing gnats while the others swarm against me.”

  Brianna sighed. “Could I do it? Yes. Would it be pretty? No. I would essentially be using my blade, Wyrmfall, as a mop, and defeating them through sheer stat superiority, defensive layering, and brute force.”

  “But you could beat them?”

  “Twenty Level 10 or so demons?” She nodded reluctantly. “Most likely. But I can’t guess how badly they would hurt me in the process, and my fear then would be for Anna, who’d be left without protection. Eadwolf—he’s watching, by the way—is a prodigious warrior, but even he needs to sleep.”

  “But—at the Shuddering. I saw you destroy hundreds of Terror Birds.”

  Brianna’s smile was pitying. “Terror Birds are—what—only Level 21 monsters? They weren’t blocking my attacks. They weren’t even trying to parry. They had no resistance to Wyrmfall’s Tremor Edge. When I swung my sword at full power into open air against such weak creatures, Tremor Edge had nothing to diminish it. The force that would normally bleed through a powerful foe’s guard instead radiated out completely unfiltered. I was able to use it as a blunt area weapon. I was swinging a Legendary Artifact at my not insignificant Strength and letting the force sweep across the whole plaza. But beyond that—Siegebreaker Cadence compounded each blow I unleashed against the environment rather than a single target, and because I was striking the same open space repeatedly, the Cadence had nothing to degrade it. Just shockwave after shockwave that liquefied the birds.”

  Her smile was impish. “I was using techniques meant to fell dragons against oversized chickens, and it only required… what? Twenty percent of what I’m capable of? But Level 10 demons are another matter entirely. They won’t succumb to my Apex Mandate in the same way, won’t run at me in a massed group. They’ll surround me, synergize their attacks and powers, and prevent me from either bringing my strongest, dragon-killing powers to bear or just laying down enough generalized carnage to wipe them out like I did the Terror Birds.”

  “Oh,” said Harald, feeling at once overwhelmed and way, way out of his depth.

  “But you.” She reached out to lightly cuff his shoulder, almost sending him stumbling. “You did very well. And in time, from what I could sense of your abilities, you would be far better matched against a mass of foes than I ever would. But this isn’t that time. We need allies to make this battle one-sided, to ensure a clean execution of our foes, and prevent any of our friends from being killed.”

  “Hence the dwarves and the grand tour of the Houses,” said Harald.

  “Exactly. Now. I’m hungry. Want to come raid the pantry with me? Pantry raids are the best raids.”

  “In a bit.” Harald felt too shook up to continue. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Very well.” She flashed him another smile and strode toward the house.

  Harald stood still, hands on his hips, and gazed up at the moon.

  The angels wept.

  Would he ever achieve such power?

  Such power that even now, at Level 9, he couldn’t begin to understand how powerful Brianna was?

  One day.

  One day he would.

  He felt that old, dark fire rekindle in his soul. He wouldn’t stop till he was as fearsome as Brianna Hammerfell, wouldn’t stop till he’d outstripped her. One day he would be her equal, and the day after that, her superior. Not because he disprized her—far from it, he didn’t think there was anyone right now that he was so awed and impressed by—but because to beat Brianna in a duel would be the highest testament of martial prowess that he could imagine.

  And Harald wanted nothing so much as to reach the very pinnacle of power.