Ungrette froze for a moment. Like a cryomancer had turned her into a living icicle. Then, she bobbed her head diagonally. Almost nodding like ‘yes,’ and almost shaking like ‘no.’ Upon seeing this reaction, Arnzos was just as befuddled as her. He wasn’t sure if this was shock or if she had a plan of her own to use Modra. She should have been flippant at the prospect of a new friend. This was anything but that.

  “Of course,” she said with an off-putting smile. “It makes sense that Modra wouldn’t act alone.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I must ask… what are the secret words?”

  Arnzos lips formed an ‘o’ shape. Secret words? Are you fucking serious!? Thinking for longer than a second would be incriminating, so he chose a phrase and went with, “The King is a certain future.”

  There was absolutely no chance that he got the words correct, but Ungrette didn’t react harshly. She grunted and shot another off-putting smile his way. He expected words, or even one word, but she indicated nothing else. Arnzos bobbed his head, much like she did before. Should he elaborate on his phrase? Should he stumble through some half-baked excuse as to why he didn’t know the words? In the infinitesimal period of time he pondered about it, he heard a quick whistle from Waterfowl.

  Aipo and the noble girl waved him over. Arnzos left the cerulian to her machinations. If he could sweat, it would be pouring on his scales; the anxiety reached his belly too. Pounding on his stomach lining like a fist knocking at a door. He ignored it as best he could, regrouping with the two of them behind a cracked arch.

  Although the more he thought about it, the nervousness in his stomach fit well with the identity of ‘Drezos.’ The one perk of Ungrette scaring him to a heart beat away from cardiac arrest.

  “Drezos.” Waterfowl stuffed a stick of dried beef into his arms. “You’ll use that to lead the klougher away from the top. Nobody on the team likes this food anyway.”

  “I think delicious,” Aipo said. Waterfowl scowled at him, to which he shrugged in reply. “Just opinion. I enjoy.”

  Arnzos might have chuckled, if not for the gravel in his throat. Produced by his nerves. The noble girl continued, pulling out a torch and saying, “Roast the meat with this. It’ll amplify the smell and cover your own scent.” The dracokin stored his spear on his back. Hands now free.

  “Sure. Light it up for me?” he said. Arnzos realized some of himself peeked through. He sounded too sure. Too confident. Ungrette’s lack of response tampered with his act.

  From his belongings—as Waterfowl and Ungrette had their own—Aipo freed a flint and steel kit from his bag. He laid an innocent cloth across the flint and beat sparks out of it. Belching new flames into existence. After enough torture for the poor cloth, a fire boomed from the torch. Since it was already smothered in grease, the spark exploded to life. A fiery light was born. Good for navigating the dark spire and cooking his salt beef.

  “Stay quiet.” Waterfowl pointed at him intently. “Do not sneeze or cough or… fart. Kloughers can smell the smallest changes in a person. Move slowly, but swiftly.”

  That sounded so dumb, he almost broke from ‘Drezos’ again. “Slowly b-but swiftly?”

  “Consistent speed. Maintain it,” Aipo said.

  The noble girl pushed the brown, glassy device on her nose upward. “You know what I meant. Bring it into the center of the tower, where we’ll sneak past it. Leave through the entrance, but stay close. The klougher should stick his arm through the door, since it’s too big to exit from there. When we come down with the pearls, you can throw the beef wherever and we’ll escape.”

  “Preferred to be away from us. Bad if near,” the lyzanite added.

  “Obviously,” she said.

  “I’m glad you’ll help me,” Arnzos prefaced, “but this plan seems a little… um… basic. Why didn’t you just do this before?”

  “We could have easily done this before, but there’s a good chance whoever goes in gets caught and eaten. Fairy tales will tell you how kloughers are slow and bumbling, but I’ve seen that thing move. It isn’t like the stories.”

  Arnzos had no fondness for Jane, but he couldn’t deny she spoke quite a truth. It reminded him of all the countless stories of war he heard. Glorified duels and sunset painted battlefields. Fights were aplenty but no one ever died. Legends like those existed in every country. Told to every boy and girl. He was sure it lured many unsuspecting people to their deaths. They thought renown was won as easily as lifting a pinkie. Instead of fame, they met their end.

  He would have been trapped by those stories too. If reality hadn’t shown him the truth of violence first.

  “Right.” Arnzos’ attention drifted away. He glanced at Ungrette a final time; her stillness unnerved him and made his mind race. But a racing mind would only hamper him. If he had no control over her actions, she should have no control over his thoughts. That notion calmed him. He needed the calm before this.

  Aipo put a thumb up. Somehow, he made a simple gesture of affirmation look unnatural. “Wish luck, draeken. Do not die.”

  “I’ll try… not to.”

  He began the trek into the spire. Wriggling through the doorway. Already, ten feet from the door, were more dead felinians. Their golds and silvers and jewels worth a fortune scattered around. He tiptoed by them. Avoiding any crunches of boot to gems. Until Phyletta nearly scared him to death.

  [“Arnzos, wait!”]

  He lurched. His nerves were debilitating enough. [“Shit, Phyletta. What?”]

  [“Ungrette knows you’re scheming. There’s no point in continuing with Waterfowl’s plan. You must take the pearls and escape.”]

  [“How!? They’re covering the exit and the klougher will rip me apart if I steal the pearls myself.”]

  [“Hear what I have to say first…”]

  ?

  A grayish blotch of gunk sat in the corner of Jane’s glasses. Blotches like those were less noticeable at night, though her brain could occasionally identify them without the light making them evident. She took them away, blinding her in an instant. A gift from her mother. Eyesight as dull as rust. Sick, was she, of knowing that her father had the vision of a griffin and she was stuck with her mother’s myopia. Yet, it could have been worse. She could have lived hundreds of years ago, when glasses had not existed.

  As she returned them to the bridge of her nose, Jane joined Aipo in observing the outline in the belfry. It was motionless. It had been so for around twenty minutes. For reference, the shaky dragonman entered around twelve minutes ago. She kept count of the seconds in her head. That was leagues better than tripping through small talk with Aipo or Ungrette.

  The mental clock ticked away. It reached thirteen minutes now. The outline still frozen. If Jane had any way to peep in on him—see what was taking him so long—she would have done it. The dracokin reminded Jane of her brother. Not exactly in the sense of a coward, but more of a generally weak man. Still, mother and father loved pinching his cheeks and feeding him feasts. Their prized baby boy.

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

  “Aipo. Waterfowl.” Ungrette snuck up on them. Jane continued the count in her head. Unsure if she botched it or not. “Drezos threatened me. He’s a hired adventurer for a third party!”

  Damn. Jane botched it. No saving the count now. “What third party? Why didn’t you tell us that ten minutes ago?!” she said firmly.

  Ungrette used no words to explain her case. She only showed them rope burns. Dug into her wrists. Marks of that same burn sat across her cheeks. Held up, also, was a spool of thick hem restraints. Desperately cut. Believable for a struggle, since she assumedly broke free. However, Jane didn’t understand how she or Aipo never picked up the sounds of a struggle… at all.

  That’s when Ungrette bent her neck and brushed a bruise on her head. A purple lump like a beaten plum. A wound like hers could easily cause confusion, but it still failed to explain why they hadn’t heard the sounds before. Especially Aipo, as he trained his senses to respond to the slightest forms of stimuli. His awareness couldn’t afford to be dull.

  Aipo poked at the lump. “You knocked out? From what? Drezos had spear. No mace, no hammer.”

  “He threw me to the ground,” Ungrette sobbed. “I… hit it on a rock. It’s hard to… remember.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Waterfowl said.

  The time for pointing fingers was over. Because fifteen minutes after Drezos entered the spire, and three minutes after Jane lost her count, the outline moved. It did more than move. It heaved and stretched out its swollen legs. Finally emerging from shadow. Becoming more than a basic contour in the belfry. The slab of dry meat Waterfowl gave to the dragonman flew over the edge of the tower. It coiled through the air and landed…

  Right in front of them.

  Like a fat contortionist, the klougher pulled its gray, putrescent body through the opening. With a nimbleness unexpected, it scaled down the crystalline monument. Chipping off shards as it climbed. Aipo, Ungrette, and Jane all retreated into the outskirts. That piece of shit Drezos played a character to dupe them. If that was even his real name. So Ungrette was right, but who was the third party? And how did he know about this mission?

  The klougher crashed to the ground. Grunting and slobbering. It stood at a staggering fifteen feet. With legs like smoky tree trunks and arms like bedrock pillars. A plethora of oozing boils sat where its eyes should be. Its head shaped like a raisin; same texture as a raisin too. Making a whole host of disgusting noises, the klougher reached to the ground with two yellow-nailed fingers. It picked up the roasted beef. Nom, nom, nom.

  “All right, I faked my injury,” Ungrette admitted, “but it was to warn you that something like this would happen!”

  Jane sighed. ‘You can use your words for that. People tend to believe the suspicions of their partymates.’ The noble girl contemplated saying it out loud, but she would save it for a better time. Preferably away from a monstrous beast that can crush someone with a finger. Ungrette groaned and patted the lump on her head. When she did, blood glossed her hand in crimson.

  The klougher sniffed. Turning its head right toward her…

  It jumped for Ungrette! Snatched her in its hands like a baby bird. She cried like one too. A wave of dust and rubble knocked Aipo and Jane to their backs. The noble girl jolted as she landed on a pointed stone. Her nerves shot out a hot stinging sensation. She manifested sparks in her hand. Bolts of white lightning. Aimed at the abscesses on the klougher’s face.

  But the hot stinging stopped her. Her electromancy was interrupted by pain that trickled down her body. Jane blasted the klougher with a tiny discharge. It barely flinched. The cerulian looked too delicious. It wound up its jaw for a massive bite. Ungrette shrieked.

  If only she could cease the pain. ‘Get up and help her.’ Jane chanted to herself. 'Get up.' To rise from spite alone, she imagined her brother’s dumb, smiling face. Back home, he was surely swaddled in furs and silks and eating peaches from a tired servant girl. Provided by her parents. She could have all the same treats as him—fruits, savory meats, or the finest of wines. But no love. Never love. While Aipo and Ungrette had their faults, at least they treated her with respect. Jane had trouble reciprocating, but she could now. She could get up and save them.

  Jane powered through the pins and needles. “Leave her alone, you ugly fuck!”

  A flurry of electric wrath launched from her fingers. Shocking the klougher—it seized with a loosened grip. Ungrette slipped out from its grasp. Falling. She screamed, before Aipo rolled in and caught her. Black burns sizzled on the beast’s arm. Still, it was more annoyed than hurt. It charged for the girl. Jane tried shocking it again. Her sorcery failed her. The nerves crackled. They distracted her.

  Jane yelped.

  Before Drezos returned. But not as ‘Drezos.’ As his true self.

  Two bulging bags were perched on his shoulder—Arnzos raised his weapon in reverence. He flung the spear up, digging it into the back of the klougher’s knee. He heaved the spear down. All of his weight on it. The gash grew mountainous. His spear exploded into splinters from the force. The beast grumbled. It fell to its thighs. Jane ran for safety.

  The klougher smashed up the ruins. Retaliating. Hoped to crush whatever pest had just crippled it. Aipo crawled beside its shoulder—now free of Ungrette. He pierced the monster’s neck with a dagger. More red burst from its veins. Yet it wasn’t dying. It gurgled and opened its pungent maw. If it would die—it would take Aipo down too. The lyzanite hissed and expected death.

  However, all Aipo felt was a blade unclasping from his belt. Arnzos stole an extra dagger he had and clamped the klougher’s mouth shut! Pushed its lower jaw up by embedding the knife in its skin. It narrowly bit the lyzanite in half. Inches away. If not for the dracokin.

  In its final moments, it tainted the two’s noses with disgusting breath. Drooling and chittering. A currant foam frothed from its lips.

  It succumbed.

  Though Jane and Ungrette nursed their wounds, Aipo trembled in fury.

  “I don’t want to fight!” Arnzos yelled out. He ensured all three members could hear him. “I saved Waterfowl and I saved you, Aipo.”

  Arnzos cautiously retreated as the lyzanite followed him. Like a raptorial creature. “Nearly killed us,” Aipo said. “Trickery! Pretended to be small.”

  The bluescale lugged one of the full bags onto the smattered stone below. “This bag is full of gems, gold, and silver. Worth a lot of shinies. It’s my gift to your team, if—” Arnzos lifted the other bag. “—I can keep these pearls.”

  Jane and Ungrette hobbled into view. Too paralyzed by the near-death experience. Aipo still steamed; he looked like he would melt if he was any angrier.

  “Should rip neck open. Should take pearls and gold,” Aipo said.

  Arnzos nodded. “You should, but I’d advise against it.”

  “Why?”

  A massive boom of white echoed from Arnzos. It was pointed away from the team, and still they felt the reverberation. Jane staggered—almost onto her butt again. What kind of sorcery was this? No Pure Sorcerum elements matched the raw luster of a spell like that. Perhaps a combination of fire and lightning? How did he make it explode as such? After the terror of the klougher’s onslaught and this unknown magic, she was willing to listen.

  “My friend, Phyletta, can annihilate your eyes in a fraction of a second,” Arnzos said. “If you fight me, you may be able to kill me. You may be able to take the pearls and the gold and get paid by Palmgrease. But I will try my damndest to cripple you. To blind you. To bite off your fingers and break your bones. I’m no gentleman dueler. I will ruin you. So… would you rather lose your mobility and your limbs and dignity? Or would you rather disappoint Palmgrease, but still get paid and still keep your arms and legs?”

  It’s better to keep arms and legs, Jane thought. Ungrette seemed to agree as she declined to resist. She threw away a shortmace that was tacked on her side. Shrugging. The noble girl sauntered to the bag thrown and laid eyes upon the treasure inside. Arnzos told only truths. There settled a shitload of riches in the bag. The two female members exchanged glances, then glanced at Aipo.

  “You not be serious!!” he screamed. “You consider this? Palmgrease hunt us down ‘til ends of time!!”

  “He’s just a bandit leader,” Arnzos responded. “He’s no lord.”

  How the tides would change if Ungrette knew of Modra’s death. That was much better left unspoken. Aipo wrestled with the questions. The act of simply abandoning a job. In truth, he feared what a hit of that volatile light blast would do to him. He enjoyed the sense of sight. As much as every instinct told him to pounce on Arnzos… he stopped himself.

  Aipo yielded. Albeit with a dissatisfied grunt.

  “Leave sight. Never see me again.”

  Arnzos would, though he could never be sure if they might cross paths once more. Before the dracokin left the team and the spire and Lahf’ikon once and for all, he uttered these words:

  “I wouldn’t worry. For now… I can topple the Lord.”