Vatanil was a magic bastion of control and order, all following a strict routine that never changed and never wanted to. All tasks from day-to-day were performed to a pristine standard, no homeless wanders, no beggars, an optimised city where all had a purpose and all crime outside of work hours was personal and discriminate, never for gain.

  From an outside view, the city was a ripe apple—perhaps too ripe, as the sweetness attracted maggots that consumed the purity of the fruit from the inside. Rotting, dying, yet the skin stays red and enticing, forcing others to eat what is unseen beneath.

  Quinn had returned to this city with an ego so bruised you could practically see the black and blue of his soul. He wished to stay at Caron in hopes Death would return to finish the job, but a quick message delivered by a magical dove forced him to return under the other of Bianca Lython, the only person whose command he would willingly follow against his own wishes.

  His pride was swallowed with a sour taste, Death flooding his thoughts with every heavy footstep as he made his way through the streets and received cheer from the others that walked by him.

  ‘How could a battle end without a solid conclusion?’ was all he could ask himself. The urges were violent, clawing at him, leaving his heart and stomach bloated with painful hatred for himself.

  “Dragon killer!” the people were yelling. “Caron’s hero!”

  Quinn didn’t know how many more tears he could feign for the people he killed before he would never be able to fake a tear again.

  He passed through many gates until he was in the deepest walls of the inner city, trudging up the steps towards Keep Blacksteel.

  He stared up above the gigantic double-doors at the red stained-glass of which there were four long panes.

  The doors were guarded by to Valan soldiers, chuckling upon Quinn’s arrival. “Bet you heard they’re calling you slayer of dragons now, ay? They said that shot with your trident, phew, right in the back of the dragon’s throat. Beautiful, wish I’d seen it.

  There was nothing to see, it wasn’t me, he wanted to scream. He would never admit it wasn’t him, especially with the news he had to bring to Godwin. Let’s just get this over with.

  “Open the doors,” he demanded. “I demand to speak directly to King Godwin.”

  “Lucky you, he’s on this throne.” One of the guards gave a hard knock to the iron doors, a magical mist of blue and red spread from the bottom to the top and swung open. “Go inside.”

  What’s the point of doors so large that they need a magic spell just to be able to open it. Stupid design. I hate the Valans.

  The walk to the Keep Blacksteel throne room was an even more embarrassing walk. The staff stared at him, bickering about him in secret, mostly praise, some praising too much with whispers about how they’d pleasure Quinn if he gave them the chance.

  Four guards opened the door to the throne room and allowed him entrance. A grand hall kept standing by black steel pillars, all rimmed with godsteel and giving the room a bloody glow. Murals of ancient Valan royalty crafted on the floor in brick and marble, a long carpet leading to the throne with hundreds of Valan soldiers standing either side with their spears raised.

  Past them, crowds of peasants, all calling out for King Godwin’s voice and shouting words of adoration to him.

  With a single boomed word, the room was cleared at the king’s command.

  Godwin the Golden, they called him. Golden, curly hair, soft as silk and always smooth, golden stubble, golden eyes, but lacking a golden heart. At his wrists and ankles, weighted shackles of gold to train his strength. One arm wrapped in black ribbon, the other clear and boasting the strength of a God Arm, an ancient gift of the Valan bloodline, shown proudly through gold glowing symbols coursing through his veins.

  Godwin’s personal protector left the side of the throne before Quinn reached the end of the carpet. This man was Zishang Corin, the proud cousin of Quinn Corin who took a nobler approach to his life, choosing to don the Valan armour and wield the weapon gifted to the Corin bloodline, a magical naginata with blue runes etched into the steel blade.

  He was everything Quinn was not. He was thin, small, much longer hair, but none could deny their resemblance.

  “I hear you slayed a dragon,” Zishang said. “I am proud of you. You are not my cousin, Quinn, you are my brother. Now speak to the king, explain what happened at Caron in as much detail as you can possibly give.”

  Quinn rested his long arms behind his back and raised his head in feigned respect. “My king—”

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  “Kneel,” Godwin said quietly. “When you speak to your king, you kneel, not stand.”

  Kneeling is not surrendering, Quinn thought. I do not surrender, not to him, not to anyone.

  Quinn’s knees fell heavy against the carpet, he removed his cape and presented himself as a humble servant of Vatanil.

  Zishang returned to Godwin’s side.

  “You bring news of the dragon attack of Caron,” Godwin said, inspecting his hand in boredom. “You slain a dragon.”

  “Yes, my king,” Quinn lied. “But my purpose was not to slay the dragon.”

  “Then what was your goal?”

  “I had tracked the cambions responsible for the murder of—”

  Godwin’s interest was piqued. “Murder?” he said happily. “The woman they kidnapped is dead, you are certain?”

  “Yes, my king, Killian Entrail found her dead at the attempted site of a death ritual—her head was crushed, the ritual was stopped at the very last moment.”

  In Quinn’s mind, he wasn’t lying, that was his truth, the exact words that came from Killian’s mouth.

  “Killian Entrail, hm?” Godwin said suspiciously. “Her death, you shall make no mention of it to my brother or anyone else. Do I make myself clear, Captain Quinn?”

  “Yes, my king.”

  “Then continue your tale.”

  “I chased them into the sewers after Killian lost their trail. I… I found that they had…” Quinn feigned a tear, a dramatic clenched fist over his heart. “They had slaughtered a small band of homeless taking shelter in the sewers… then, I knew they would return to the scene of the crime, so I confronted them then and there.”

  “You found the cambion?”

  “It was three, my king. A man with black hair and red eyes, a woman with white hair, and a third woman with red hair. Killian has sent word to the surround towns and cities to stay alert for them and has paid multiple scouting parties to go hunting for them.”

  “With what coin?”

  “I don’t know, my king, you would have to ask Killian Entrail.”

  “These scum, did you kill them?”

  Quinn forced even more tears. “When I found them at Caron, the one with black hair was cutting apart the poor people, ripping them in half, crushing their skulls, smiling and laughing while he did so. He destroyed houses, killed families, I could no watch—I had them on the cusp of defeat, their throats at the end of my trident, but I faltered, my king, I had to look them in their eyes and ask them why they did it, why they put that poor girl to death.”

  “Poor?” Godwin scoffed. “And what did they say to your dumb question, Captain Quinn?” He leaned forward in his throne. “Tell me, I am most intrigued.”

  “He only smiled,” he lied. “Then after, the dragon attack was swift and unexpected. I tried to douse the flames and fight at the same time but it proved ineffective. I changed my target to the one that descended for me, fire ready to end my life. I summoned all my water to one trident and threw it with all my might, it crashed down and the other dragons fled like cowards… but so did the cambions, my king, I did not know what to do and I cost you their heads on a spike… please, I beg that you forgive me.”

  Quinn felt sick. Not because he was lying, but because he had to ask forgiveness from a man he truly didn’t respect.

  The was silence. “My king—”

  “You do not speak unless I have spoke!” Godwin boomed. “You will sit and you will wait until you are spoken to, am I clear?”

  “Yes, my king.”

  Godwin leaned back in his throne and gave a chuckle. “I can’t believe that whore is dead,” he whispered. “A true miracle. Zishang, what would you have me do with your cousin? Do not factor in that he is your blood, you heard the same tale as me, what would you do if you were sat in my chair?”

  “Nothing, my king,” Zishang said. “Captain Quinn may have let them escape by pursuing the dragon, but his actions saved the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands of innocents, and he lives to tell the tale to you in Vatanil. I would forgive him.”

  “Then you are forgiven,” he said to Quinn, standing. “Zishang, fetch my brothers, Bianca, and Mara. Tell them to meet in the war council chambers at once, there is much to be discussed.”

  “Yes, my king.” Zishang left quickly through the door in the corner of the room. Godwin waited for him to leave, staring down Quinn with his menacing glare as he rested his cheek on his knuckle.

  “And you, Captain Quinn,” he said deliberately slow. “You will not fail me again, the next task I give you shall be carried out until you succeed or until you die. Now go, get out of my sight, and tell that big ugly dog Killian that I demand his presence in the council room at once.”

  “Yes, my king,” Quinn said, bowing and standing. “Thank you, my king, I am forever grateful.”

  “As you should be,” he yelled. “I am a gracious king.”

  Embarrassing that I must I kneel to this man, Quinn thought. I would only willingly kneel for Bianca, Fiasco, or Zishang, if he’d ever need me by his side. This was torture.

  The walk to leave the throne room felt like hours. When the four guards shut the door behind Quinn, Killian whistled for Quinn like a dog, leaning against the wall, polishing his sword.

  “You killed a dragon?” Killian grunted. “I could spend centuries shaving my arse with a rusted spoon and by the time I’ve finished you wouldn’t have even looked in the direction of a dragon.”

  Quinn grabbed the handle of Killian’s sword and tossed it to the ground. The clang was loud, deafening, the other guards raised their spears not to defend Killian or Quinn but in fear of their own safety.

  Killian chuckled as he looked down on Quinn. “You’ll pick up my sword before you leave.”

  “And I’ll shove it right up your ass,” Quinn threatened. “You think you can lecture me on who did what, you little Harren lapdog, you are the reason we are in this mess, you let those three escape unharmed, you let that girl die.”

  “I let that girl die,” Killian repeated. “Mind your tongue, Quinn, didn’t your master tell you not to repeat it to anyone.”

  “You are a fool,” Quinn snarled. “I know the way you fight, dog, they escaped because you were sloppy, slow, poor judgement. If you were listening to that meeting, you’d know your masters want you at their council.”

  “I will go when I wish to go.”

  “And I will be sure to repeat those exact words to King Godwin the next time I see them, alongside the mention that you fled from Caron after I knew they would return, which I’m sure you heard I didn’t mention to the king.”

  “Any reason you didn’t?”

  “Because as much as I dislike you, dog, I’m not going to cause issues for those who keep Vatanil safe. Pick up your own sword, I am done for the night, pass a message onto Zishang if you need me, or come find me in my quarters if it is a direct message from King Godwin himself.”