The thought of marching back up to the gates of Rājadhānī was more anxiety-inducing than Tristan wanted to admit. His chest tightened, wracked with worry and concern. The fight with Sanrai replayed itself several times over in his head, and countless possibilities toyed with the fabric of his mental well-being. He fought hard to wear a brave face as they approached.

With the same care one would show with a bag of garbage, Cailu tossed what remained of the Chikara at the guards’ feet, then crossed his arms. The head landed with a sickening mushy crunch. A trail of its viscous blood left dark green spots in the sand.

Naeemah, Zahra, and Kirti formed a line in front of the guards beside him.

“The Chikara is no more. My cohorts and I seek an audience with the gracious King Magni,” said Cailu. 

Tristan had expected Cailu to elaborate. Instead, the [Paladin] and the ladies of Ichi Island just stood there, waiting. To Tristan, it seemed this man was accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

“W-W-What? How would—” the guard on the left stammered. Tristan didn’t recognize either of them. Their eyes widened as they caught sight of Naeemah. “M-My lady.” The guards went down on one knee.

Cailu exhaled. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes!” said the guard on the right. She quickly rose to her feet, mirroring the same salute Zahra had demonstrated minutes earlier. “Lady Naeemah, forgive me, I—”

“Enough,” Naeemah said, raising her hand. “We haven’t the time for this. Open the gate.”

“O-Of course!” said the guard on the left.

Seconds later, the gate rose. Tristan was baffled by the influence Naeemah held over the residents of Rājadhānī. Even after her protracted absence, they revered her like a queen.

Agni was gone in a flash, roping her gigashanks away and singing a merry tune.

The gate shut behind the three Parties. Naeemah drew a deep breath, then slowly breathed out, furrowing her brow. “Much has changed.”

“Seems the king has been hard at work,” Kirti said, stepping ahead of the three Parties, looking to her left and then her right. “Our people suffer inside these walls,” she said.

Kirti’s presence raised the hairs on Tristan’s skin. There was something otherworldly and disturbing about her. Did she understand the duality of her statement? “What do you mean by that?” He had to know. Ever since she appeared, she’d put him on edge. 

Kirti peered over her shoulder at him. “The dead are loud here. They cry for release.”

“They will find no release from a demon like you,” Cannoli hissed from behind Tristan.

Matt motioned with a shake of his head and a finger to his lips. “Cannoli, stop,” Tristan heard him whisper.

Tristan could see Cannoli’s jaw muscles tightening from where he stood. As questionable as Kirti’s methods were, Tristan would never have expected such words out of Cannoli’s mouth. Of all the catgirls in their Parties, Tristan felt she was the most soft-spoken and understanding.

Judging from the look on Matt’s and his girls’ faces, they were just as taken aback.

Kirti’s smile widened before she turned her attention back to the city.

“Let us make our way to the Second Shell,” said Naeemah.

“Of course, My Lady,” Zahra said.

Without waiting for a response, the four set off toward the gate.

“I guess we just follow suit?” Matt asked as he and his Party came to stand beside Tristan.

“I suppose so,” Tristan replied with a shrug.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Lara said with a bit more pride than Tristan felt was warranted. “I suggest we follow them.”

Matt chuckled. “Where did you learn that?”

“You remembered,” Tristan said, smiling.

“I have an excellent memory.” Lara beamed.

“We’ll be right behind you, Tristan,” Destiny added, nudging herself against Tristan’s arm. “Perk up.”

“Thank you so much for your support, Destiny, Lara,” Tristan said. “Let’s see what they’ve got planned.”

“I know what they’ve got planned,” said Ravyn. “They’re just going to roast anyone who gets in their way. I know how this cunt works.”

I wonder what their history is. There was a softer person inside Ravyn’s barbed shell; of that, Tristan was sure. He’d witnessed it personally while he and the others training beneath her back in Catania were learning to be better [Mage]s. She’d spoken with elegance and pride, somehow abstaining from swearing and showing a level of patience he rarely saw in any of his teachers growing up. There had to be more to her history with Cailu than him simply being a “cunt.”

“The sooner we finish this, the better,” Matt said. There were clear signs of exhaustion in his voice. His footsteps left deeper imprints than Cailu. Was Matt stomping his way over without realizing it?

Two catgirls stood at the gate. By their mannerisms and attire, Tristan recognized them as Ejderha.

“Stand aside,” Kirti advised, rolling a glimmering stone over her knuckles.

“No one gets in without Sanrai’s permission,” said the girl on the left. She bore fiery-red hair and emerald eyes. A piece of her left ear was missing. Chewed off, if Tristan had to guess by the ragged skin left behind. “Haven’t you lot done enough?” She tilted her head to one side, observing Cailu with a narrowed gaze.

“Forgive the transgressions of my allies,” Cailu said, his hand across his chest. “They acted with haste, as I had instructed. I, Cailu Raloquen, offer my sincerest apologies. Time runs short. I must have words with King Magni. As a tribute, we have brought the head of the Chikara to your gates. Please, allow us entry.”

The guard eyed the Chikara, her mouth narrowing into a thin line. “You’ve got long ears, and still, it seems you didn’t hear me. I said no,” said the catgirl.

Cailu’s expression darkened.

“Please. You must allow me passage,” said Naeemah, her fingers intertwined in front of her. “Nyarlothep requires M— …King Magni’s presence to see that Nyarlea prospers.”

“Not our problem. You think taking the guise of Lady Naeemah will somehow get you in?” the girl on the right asked. Her brown hair whipped over her shoulder as she looked away, chuckling. The sunlight emphasized a scar strewn across her right cheek. “You have some nerve. She’s dead, buried by the sands that created her.”

“She stands before you now,” Naeemah hissed. “Since when did the warriors of Ichi Island abandon their people? Their neighbors? Culture? Dignity? Tell me.”

“Since you left, Lady Naeemah.” Leveling her spear toward Cailu, it touched the fabric of his doublet, cutting strand after tiny strand as she sat there. Tristan’s eyes widened. Naeemah’s breathing quickened. The spear had opened a small gap in his clothing with little more than a nudge. That edge would cut flesh without effort. “Leave, or suffer the wrath of the Ejderha.”

“Our people suffer in the streets,” Naeemah hissed, her gaze dancing between the spear and Cailu. The venom in her voice was unlike Tristan had ever heard. “And you would have me leave them. We wish for a peaceful resolution, and yet you bar our path. My path.”

“Lady Naeemah,” Zahra said, her hand on Naeemah’s shoulder.

“Bring the one named Sanrai to me,” Naeemah said, slapping Zahra’s hand away. “I wish to speak with her.”

“This doesn’t concern her,” the red-headed catgirl said, the spear threshing away more threads from Cailu’s attire. “Why don’t you get out of here?”

“How dare you graze him with your weapon,” Naeemah said, drawing a dagger from seemingly nowhere. “This will not go how you think. Not this time.”

Cailu’s face was impassible, but his hand twitched at the hilt of his sword. 

No. No more bloodshed. Tristan had had enough. “Why are you people so unreasonable?” he asked. 

No matter what position he looked at it from, he could find no reason for such atrocious acts. Catgirls were in the walls, people were starving for food, and water was rationed off like gold despite its abundance. When he thought of the miserable nights back on Earth, starving and scrounging for whatever he could find, he felt a distant camaraderie with the girls within the Third Shell.

“Three men stand before you,” Tristan announced loudly. “Something I have yet to see recorded in any book… and yet you turn them away. The woman you revere stands beside them. And still, you push us away?” Tristan clenched his right hand into a fist and shouldered his way to the line that Cailu and the Ichi Island girls had formed. Destiny and Lara tried to stop him, but he barely acknowledged them. A red haze clouded his vision.

“What you do here is evil! It is beyond comprehension!” Tristan continued. “You suffer under the rule of a tyrant! Your hypocrisy speaks volumes about the comforts you enjoy! People are dying, starving, destitute and miserable.” His voice lowered to a growl. Was that really him speaking? “You hold them at arm’s length, teasing them with a carrot they can’t see. Any attempts to talk are squashed by your repugnant Ejderha.” Air hissed through his teeth. “I should never have to see a child in the streets begging for coin.”

“You speak to Ejderha, little man,” the left catgirl said, amusement on her face as if she were watching a yipping puppy.

“I don’t care,” Tristan said. “Peace was never an option for you.”

“Tristan, stop,” Matt cautioned.

“Don’t fight!” Cannoli squeaked. “Stop it!”

The brunette Ejderha clicked her tongue. “Leave, or the rest of the Ejderha will be here within seconds. You want to make a scene?” She motioned to a warhorn strapped to her belt. “You plead like a kitten, screaming when you don’t get your way. Don’t be so petulant.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Ravyn snarled.

“Petulant?” Tristan asked, aghast. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even after everything they’d said, everything they’d done, the Ejderha turned a blind eye. “Your people—”

“Will survive and be made stronger for it,” the catgirl continued. “You cannot comprehend Magni’s plan. Your short-sighted anger blinds you. Years after we’re gone, Ichi Island will flourish. San and Shi will be but children compared to our might.” She rolled her tongue around in her mouth. “Your comments have simply strengthened my resolve.”

“Our resolve,” the red-headed catgirl corrected. “Now, leave.”

“No,” said Cailu. He snatched the spear with his left hand, pointing the edge down to his side. The catgirl visibly struggled against his strength. Cailu’s expression was steeled and cold; his arm did not tremble, did not strain. It was clear to Tristan that the [Paladin] was putting in minimal effort. “The pleasantries have overstayed their welcome.”

The brunette reached for her warhorn.

Cailu snapped the spear’s head off.

“[Shatter Soul],” Kirti said. The green pebble splintered into dust between her fingers.

A flash of pale-green light illuminated the area, and screeching howls filled Tristan’s ears. The two Ejderha flew backward as if a hurricane had knocked them off their feet. Their backs hit the portcullis. A dull crack followed, and they slumped to the ground. Their eyes rolled back into their skulls, and foam erupted from their gaping mouths. There was a spark of recognition in their eyes—small but evident—and then emptiness.

Cailu took one step forward, unsheathing his decorated blade.

“Wait, Cailu, don’t!” Tristan screamed.

“Stop him!” Ravyn bellowed.

Cailu knelt and struck the red-haired Ejderha across the face with the pommel of his sword. Her body fell limp to the side. She was still barely breathing. Naeemah simultaneously knocked out the brunette in a similar fashion.

Tristan exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His heart hammered against his chest.

Cailu’s gaze settled on Ravyn. “How many times will you interrupt my work, cretin girl?”

“The fuck do you mean by that, cunt? Anyone could’ve seen you were about to kill them!” Ravyn spat back.

“Would you have me stand there and accept a spear through the chest, then?” Cailu shook his head. “Still as dense as the day you abandoned this Party.”

“Mou ii, I swear if—”

“That’s enough!” Matt yelled as he glared at her. “Stop it, Ravyn. This is not the time.”

Ravyn opened and closed her mouth, clearly at a loss for words.

Zahra motioned to the guard Naeemah had taken care of. “You move so swiftly, my lady. Even in [Civilian Mode].”

Naeemah said nothing, her rage still evident on her face.

Kirti stifled a laugh behind her.

The tension between the Parties was palpable. “Everyone’s safe. That’s the important part,” Tristan tried to reassure them. “What do we do from here?”

Cailu resheathed his blade and rested his hand on the hilt, gazing down the tunnel past the portcullis. He drummed his fingers against the sword. “We force our way in.”