“You didn’t attend your gala tonight.” Halphus entered the monarch's rotundum sleeping chamber. He carefully observed King Lucian seated at a trunk near the foot of his bed with a furrowed brow, and gritted teeth, looking much older than he did in the face of the public eye.

“You told me what would happen. I didn’t need to see it.” The king muttered, shoving a stray strand of black hair behind his ear. The warlock took a few more steps towards a round table where he placed a hand on the shimmering Akrulite crystal he had used the day before, its color shifting ever so subtly with green, blue and purple hues.

“Hmm.. I suppose that’s true…” Halphus muttered in agreeance. “But worry not, my king, it is all going according to our plan. That little half breed elf will soon bring you exactly what you’re searching for. After all, no one dares refuse you, sire.”

“Some have tried in the past,” Lucian’s gaze darkened. He stood up suddenly and proceeded swiftly to his bedroom window, as if trying to run from darkening memories. Then a cruel and satisfied grin spread across his lips. “I’ll just have to force her hand, with an offer she can’t refuse… I’m sure you remember our little oracle problem, Mr. Forelyn?”

“Ahh, I could never forget, your highness…” Halphus slowly removed his hand from the numinous crystal.

“Sometimes I swear I can still hear the echoing screams from the dungeon…” Lucian leaned his head back in delight as though he were recalling the sounds of a symphony. He slowly brought his head back up and turned to face the warlock attendant with squinted black eyes. “And you’re sure… That the oracle will be important to her..?”

“Positive, your highness. And may I commend your thinking on ceasing Knox for the aligned lycan pack? I believe that is the same forest I saw in my vision, it seems it will also play a key role in our search.”

“Oh, Halphus,” King Lucian approached him slowly and deliberately. “I commend your undying loyalty to the throne, but heed my words carefully; The search is mine and mine alone…” He towered menacingly over the old warlock, and Halphus was forced to bow his head.

“Of course… Sire.”

“Your highness!” A new voice cut in from the hallway. “The guards- They’ve returned!” King Lucian urgently shoved past him and bounded down the hall. Halphus turned to follow, then paused, staring back at the crystal on the table. He frowned, then pocketed it and left the room.

                                                                      ***

Darian paced back and forth across the foyer, his irritation mounting as he repeatedly muttered,

“Useless… Useless..!” We almost had her! But damn Sader lost her! He gritted his teeth and slammed a metal gloved fist against the interior stone castle wall. I swear I’ll demote him… Darian cast a sideways glare at the measly first level guard, who immediately shrunk away in shame. Darian’s attention was then drawn by the echoing footsteps from the eastern tower’s stairs. From it, King Lucian descended with a furious aire. The guards immediately dropped to their knees, bowing as he came before them.

“Well?!” He demanded.

“Your highness!” Darian rose rapidly, his head still bowed, and helmet grasped firmly at his side. “I regret to report that my men were unable to find the primary culprit. But I swear to the throne, we will not rest, until she and the crown are delivered to you!”

“Pathetic.” The king spat. Darian flinched ever so slightly at the venom in his voice. “I want a report of who you did manage to capture, and all intel you’ve gathered… Now!”

The rest of the guards sprang to their feet, arms raised in a salute. Idiots… Darian silently cursed to himself.

“Yes your majesty!” Darian turned to his second in command, Nabirius, who nodded and went to bring out the captives from the prisoner cart. He returned moments later, dragging the four chained together anthripes, bags over their heads, and tossed them to the ground. “We caught some of them trying to escape through our drainage systems.” Darian explained. He approached the largest prisoner, and ripped the burlap sack off his head and tossed it to the ground.

“And who is this?” King Lucian demanded. The orange saurian grunted and refused to meet his gaze. Annoyed, Darian grabbed the tufts of fur that lined the upper crestal spine of his head and neck and yanked it roughly, forcing his head upwards. His bruised yellow eyes glared at the king.

“Show your king some respect!” Darian hissed at him. “Your majesty, this here is Kolas Antiaco, leader to the Noctus Corsairs guild. The others are Merek Eisley an oryxitral, who somehow managed to lose his horns..? Cyrus Phourtimb, a triclops wanted for assault, along with the charges against the guild, and the dwarf is notorious weapons blacksmith and dealer, Uriel Tollyn. But we believe Kolas was the anthripe behind the plot to steal the crown.” The king suddenly began to laugh.

“Tell me, Kolas, did it all go according to plan?” His laughter subsided as he waited for an answer. “Hmm, not very bright are you? This is the animal responsible for stealing my crown? Ha! Can you even speak..?” Lucian then bent down to eye level with the saurian and began inspecting him as though he were debating whether or not to step on a bug. The king then slowly raised his hands to the sides of Kolas’ mouth, and parted his jaws to inspect his rows of fangs, to which the saurian began to growl. “Ahh, so you can at least make noises like the animal you are..!” Then the orange anthripe lunged at the king, his jaws snapping down on air as Lucian pulled away. The guards leapt to his defense but the king held up his hand, chuckling as he said, “You’ll have to be a lot faster than that to get a bite out of me!” Then Lucian suddenly brought down a fist, landing a hard blow to the saurian’s nose. The other prisoners flinched but remained silent.

“Amot!” Kolas cursed in his native language, blood dribbling down his scaley nostrils.

“So you can speak!” Lucian jeered. “Let’s see if you can listen…” Lucian bent down again with fury in his narrowed eyes, tendrils of black hair hanging down his face, and to Darian’s surprise, began speaking Gildalon. “Um hetevor yun atpulis kataregg,” He then stood up again and placed a boot over the saruian’s head. “Amagorr iss nia perriss.” The orange anthripe went rigid.

“Astraea..?” His deep voice trembled and his eyes widened with fear. The saurian then began writhing madly on the floor under Lucian’s boot. “Where is she?! If you hurt her I swear-” Lucian delivered a swift kick to his head. The saurian fell with a heavy thud onto the crimson carpet, now seemingly unconscious. Darian swallowed the lump in his throat. What did he say to get the beast so riled up..? Who’s this Astraea..? He resumed his stoney expression as the king returned his attention to the guards.

“What are you all still waiting for?! Bring me back the half elf, or bring me back your heads!” The guards jumped to action, their feet fleeing with fear. Darian felt bitterness bubble up inside him as he rallied his men in the castle’s courtyard, barking out orders that seemed pointless,

“Nabirius, take Francis and Sader to West Oberon to interrogate any potential witnesses near the tavern. Use any means necessary,” Nabirius nodded understandingly, but his expression remained unreadable. “Cain, Markus, and Leolt come with me to East Oberon. I’m betting she’s heading to the trading quarter in search of any buyers. Nabirius, head our way within the hour if you don’t find anything. Now go!” Mounting their horses, they took off galloping at high speeds into the night.

                                                                  ***

Strange… This area is more dead than usual… Darian observed the quarter, taking note of the few anthripes that had fled at the arrival of the guards. Normally at this hour, the streets would be crawling with black market trading and scamming. Then he caught sight of a poster. He marched over to it, ripping it from its wooden post and read,

                                                 Madam Lilith invites you,

                               For we are all but the monsters they have made us

What is this shit..? He turned to the nearest vendor and demanded,

“What is this shit?!” The anthripean vendor shrunk below his stand, his pointy fur covered ears poking out above it. “Answer me!” Fed up from the whimpering responses, he turned to other vendors, all of which fled immediately. “Damnit!” He yelled in outrage. He crumbled up the poster, shoving it in his pocket, and began marching back to his men, when a voice sounded behind him.

“Excuse me?” He turned with a grimace, but to his shock found an anthripe speaking openly with him, its green scaly tail swishing innocently on the cobblestone ground.

“What do you want?” Darian asked. “And… Where did you come from..?” The alley from which he stood deadended, and Darian could have sworn he had patrolled it earlier.

“Oh, I just… Crawled right in…” He circled Darian, his tail coiling around him as he did so. “I’m Ifrit.” He held out a clawed and scaly hand that was somehow both femenine, and reptilian. Gross… Darian cringed at the thought of touching it.

“Not interested.” Darian grunted, shoving past the saurian.

“Oh really? Then I guess you didn’t want to know what this was..?” Darian turned to see Ifrit holding up the crumpled Madam Lilith poster.

“How did you-?!” He demanded, grasping his pockets in desperate confusion. The saurian laughed and closed the distance between them.

“I have many resources…” He then smiled, and flashed out a split snake like tongue. “I also happen to know where a little elf you’re looking for just showed up! But… I was hoping I might be… Rewarded for my efforts?”

“Let’s see if you’re right first.” A slow grin began to creep across Darian’s face. Seems like my luck is about to change…