The Old Man left. Ruther was untied.

  He rubbed his wrists. "So," Ruther said. "We should check the injured."

  Merk groaned, throwing his head back. "Can we celebrate for one day? Just one day without work?"

  "We can't," Ruther said. "All of us have done our part today. But the men down there? They did a lot more than we did."

  The Generals sighed in unison. "Fine."

  They went down to the courtyard. The scene was a nightmare, even for veterans.

  Bodies were piled like firewood. What Ruther knew—what they all knew—was that soldiers' bodies were just meat at the end of the day.

  And meat attracted Sickness.

  "We should remove these bodies," Ruther said, covering his nose.

  "Yeah," Shyn said. "We should burn them or something."

  "Burn them?" Leo asked. "Didn't you say we are going to make their heads public toilets?"

  "That was for the Nobles," Ruther corrected. "Since they were only 500. But here? We are talking about thousands of corpses. We can't make that many toilets."

  "We could sell them," Merk suggested.

  Ruther looked at him. "To whom?"

  "I don't know. Meat is meat."

  "Anyway," Ruther said. "That is your job, Shyn. Burn them. Move them. Just get them out."

  Shyn's jaw dropped.

  "Andree," Ruther said, "come with me to check on the injured and the dead. We need names."

  "Oh, come on!" Shyn shouted. "Ruther! The easy job for Andree? Again?"

  Ruther stopped. He looked at Shyn. "Andree will write the names down. Can you write, Shyn?"

  Shyn paused. He looked at his boots. "...No."

  "Then do your job."

  "Okay... King," Shyn muttered.

  Ruther glared. "I told you. I am Ruther."

  "Okay, Ruther."

  Ruther turned and walked away with Andree. Shyn waited until he was five steps away.

  Then he whispered to Merk: "The King."

  They stood outside the large medical tent.

  "I have to tell you," Andree said, stopping Ruther. "Before we get in... I saw it earlier, when I was checking the perimeter."

  "It's nothing like we saw in the streets, Ruther. It's worse."

  "I know," Ruther said. "And that is my job to see."

  They went inside. The tent was filled with the injured. Women were crying over bodies.

  Kids were screaming in pain. The healers were trying to save who could be saved. But too little was given... and so, too many were being taken.

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  "What the hell is going on, Andree?" Ruther whispered, horrified.

  "I told you," Andree said grimly. "Our supplies are mostly food.

  We stole bread, Ruther. We didn't steal medicine. We don't have enough."

  "We have to do something." Ruther pointed to one of the women tending to a soldier. "You. Come here."

  She ran over, bowing low. "Yes, my King." "Call me Ruther." She looked at him, wiping blood from her hands. "Yes... Ruther."

  "What is the situation?"

  "It's very bad," she said, her voice trembling. "Most of the men here have serious injuries because of the stones that were thrown at them."

  "Crushed bones. Internal bleeding. We... we can't fix them with just bandages."

  Ruther rubbed his face. "Andree," he commanded. "Go with her. Write every name. Write his situation. And write exactly what is not available."

  Andree nodded. "On it."

  Ruther walked out of the tent. He needed air. The smell of iron and rot was choking him. He stood alone in the dark. His eyes filled with tears.

  "I live at the top," he whispered, looking up at the castle tower. "And here... they die. What kind of King am I?"

  He gripped the wooden post until his knuckles turned white.

  Andree walked out of the tent, holding a long piece of parchment. "I think there is no hope."

  "There is always hope, Andree," Ruther said, washing blood off his hands in a bucket. "We took this castle by hope."

  "Then you need to provide the following," Andree said, shoving the list at him. "In 12 hours. Maximum. Or all of the seriously injured are going to be corpses."

  Ruther looked at the list. He saw words he couldn't read. Gauze. Tincture. Salve.

  "Also," Andree added, nodding toward the death tent. "The dead count... is already 2,500."

  Ruther stopped. He finally noticed the screams. They were always there, background noise to the victory, but now he heard them.

  He brushed his tears away. "Tell me. How much money do we need?"

  "A lot."

  "I need numbers, Andree."

  "10,000 gold pieces. At least."

  Ruther didn't blink. "Then we take every piece of armor. And we sell it."

  Andree looked at the sky, calculating. "4,000 gold pieces. At best."

  "Swords?"

  "That's another 3,000. We still need another 3,000."

  "The Castle Treasury?"

  "Our men checked. It's 2,000," Andree said. "But... those are yours, Ruther. For the crown."

  "Nothing is mine, Andree," Ruther snapped. "Everything is for them."

  "Okay," Andree wrote it down. "That's 9,000. We still need a 1,000."

  "The clothes of the nobles."

  "500."

  "Their decorated knives and forks. The silver."

  "100."

  Ruther looked at the sky. He sighed. "I know where to get the rest."

  He walked to the Warchief's room—now his room. "Woman."

  The Princess looked up. "Yes, Ruther?"

  "I need your stash."

  She froze. "What happened?"

  "We have so many injuries," he said, his voice shaking. "And there isn't enough money in the castle for medicine. I don't know what to do—"

  "Shh." She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "I knew I married the right man," she whispered. "Every moment you had to choose between you and others... you chose the others."

  She looked him in the eye. "You are their King. No one can take that from you. Not after what you did. And not after what you will do."

  She went to her bag that was made of scraps of leather.

  She pulled out a small, dirty rag. Inside was a necklace.

  Heavy gold with a red ruby. Her mother's royal crest. The last thing she owned.

  Ruther ran back down to the courtyard. "Here, Andree," he said, tossing the necklace. "This covers the rest.”

  Andree caught it. He looked at the necklace, then at Ruther. "It's barely enough, but we can start." Andree said, looking at the setting sun.

  "That was the easy part." He pointed to the horizon.

  "Now... we need to get those supplies from Dirt City. And get back here. In less than four hours."

  "Ashley," Ruther said, running to his horse.

  "No," Andree said immediately, grabbing the reins. "You won't."

  "I have to, Andree. She is a Type 4. She can teleport us there in seconds."

  "But Ruther... you know what she wants."

  Ruther looked at the tent where the men were dying. "What could we do, Andree?" he whispered. "Should we stand and wait for them to die?"

  "I have to. For the people."

  He rode to the city. To the house with the red door. He knocked.

  "Who?" a woman’s voice answered. "Ruther."

  The door opened. Ashley stood there, leaning against the frame, smiling. "The Handsome."

  "So," she said, looking him up and down. "You have finally taken my offer."

  "I need a transport," Ruther said. "To Dirt City. Back and forth. Me and three others."

  She smiled, playing with her hair. "And what is in it for me?"

  Ruther took a breath. "We are going to take the Crystal World next. When we do... you would be their Queen."

  Ashley raised an eyebrow. "A Queen? Hmm. And who is the King?"

  "Anyone you want."

  "Then I want you."

  "I am married."

  Ashley laughed. She stepped closer, her hand brushing his chest. "I heard a rumor," she whispered.

  "That you are the King now. So... why should a King have only one wife?"

  "Tsk." Ruther clicked his tongue, pulling away from her touch. "I didn't love you, Ashley."

  "You lie," she hissed, her smile dropping. "We lived in the streets together. We starved together. You know me."

  "I know you, Ashley. I know you married that old man for his money while we were bleeding in the gutter."

  Ashley shrugged. "And he is dead now. And I am rich."

  "And I am married now."

  Ashley stepped back. She crossed her arms. "Then I don't want it. I don't want to be the Queen of the Crystal World if I'm alone."

  "You always told me that was your biggest dream," Ruther argued. "To be a Queen."

  "No," she corrected him, stepping close again. "To be the Queen next to a Strong King. And you... you are that King."

  Ruther clenched his jaw. He looked at the devil.

  "Fine," Ruther whispered. "Help us now. And when I take the Crystal World... we will talk about crowns."

  Ashley smiled. "Okay. I will take your word." She closed the door. "Let's go, my King."

  She rode back with him to the castle.

  Ruther called for Shyn, Leo, and Andree.

  Andree stared at him. "You sold your honor."

  "I have done what should be done," Ruther said, dismounting.

  He looked Andree in the eye. "Didn't you tell me that you didn't want to become the King because you couldn't take the choices that are necessary?"

  Ruther stepped closer. "Today, you were right. I took those choices... so you wouldn't have to."

  Leo came running. "Yes, Ruther?"

  "Take the horses. We are getting the medicine."

  "We stripped the dead," Leo said, wiping grease from his face.

  "Shyn puked twice, but we got it done. The wagons are loaded with steel."

  "Good thinking," Ruther said. "Take everything, Andree. And let's go."

  Ashley walked up to the wagons.

  "Eh," Leo spat on the ground. "That woman. Of all people, Ruther."

  Ashley narrowed her eyes. "And what about 'that woman'?"

  "Nothing," Leo sneered. "Just that she sold her honor for an old man's money."

  Ashley’s face twisted in rage. She raised her hand to slap him.

  Andree caught her wrist in mid-air.

  He didn't look at her; he looked at Ruther. "The man didn't say wrong," Andree said calmly, dropping her hand.

  "Teleport us, Ashley," Ruther commanded, stepping between them. "Or do you want to tear up the deal?"

  She glared at Leo, then at Ruther. She blew a breath of air. "Fine."

  She raised her hand. The air warped. Dirt City wasn't just far away.

  It was in the Earth Realm. A journey that took six days on foot... was about to happen in a single second.