Chapter 6

Kip starts to foam at the mouth and the general rushes over to him, rips off his gloves and sticks two fingers in his mouth to protect him from swallowing his tongue. The Black Knight runs over and holds Kip's nose shut. His eyes explode open and the general removes his fingers.

"What? Where am I? Am I dead?"

"You're in hell boy, and I'm Leoviglid," responds The Black Knight jokingly.

Leoviglid is the equivalent of the devil in their religion.

Kip stands and begins to couch up grass and phlegm. The general wipes his fingers on his back.

"We're going to take care of you. You're no solider, but still valuable. Go straighten up, when you return...see the Leoviglid," quips the general.

"I was supposed to meet with Leo, sir."

"He'll understand. I need to speak with you about a specific matter. So no worries, lad, just find yourself healthy enough to keep your legs straight. If you pass out on me, I shan't be putting my fingers into your wretched mouth."

"Where the hell is Leo anyway, he was supposed to meet you here?" queries the general.

"Leo? Hmph, these days he's always at the beckoning call of the Prince it would seem. His right hand man, his counsel. One with whom to share secrets with," grumbles The Black Knight in a jealous tone.

"He has grown in rank exponentially, but he deserves it."

"More than I can say about the Prince. We've all shed blood for this kingdom, but he...he has less bodies than the days within a week."

"You sound bitter."

"If he continues on this way, we will surely lose the war, and our lives. All over a rune, that I've never seen, how do we know...?"

"It is within our soil and grants us a beautiful life. All it touches is the property of Avalon, now...kill your curiosity. Do not dare question the kingdom, or I shall begin to question you. Have you forgotten your oath?" states the general.

In a bar in the city of Damanthur,

...a megalopolis in the Alastair's kingdom, five high ranked older military personnel are sitting in the lower section at a table binging in libations.

Upstairs, irregular circle designs of candles are sprawled out across the interior. This way you could see before you take a sip, avoiding the tarantula eyeing your drink, thirstier than you.

Below, torches laid in the corners of the cavernous space. The drunkards married to the shadows, which created a brand new image painted on the walls. In that portrait placed on the stone they were bigger than they would ever be in real life, scarier too. Happily diving head first into that cold hell. The embers portrayed the old men like a group of occultist. Something about the dark made their conversation feel supernatural.

They all look similar, kin in another lifetime, woolly white hair and long bushy beards. Their conversation is revolving around strategy and their next chess move in the war. Sitting about them is other regulars, getting drunk, smoking, playing poker and laughing loudly.

"What will happen once the rune is obtained? It's not simply a victory even after the king is killed. What is in place to keep us from becoming the enemy, riddled with unconfined power? We must not fall into the trap of the Arcane Militia from yesteryear," informs the oldest member after swigging his beer, foam resting on his stubble.

"You fail to realize the importance of Drago on our side. He alone can defeat over a thousand men. Plus with the Palioxis Ruby embedded in him..." hiccups another member.

"But he's a lunatic. Great God of the Eternal only knows what goes on in his brain. He cannot be trusted. The man doesn't even lust for power; he does it as an extracurricular hobby. He may even kill you," replies the most nervous member.

"None the less, we need to strategize around him, maybe even without him, once victory is won. Lord Quinn is equally as manic."

One of the members at the table is wearing an oversized hood that's covering his face, his voice noticeably younger than the others.

"What say you, Maverick? Care to weight in here? Since you did arrive late," articulates another member.

Maverick stays quiet and moves his beer away from him.

"Maverick? Is that..."

Maverick throws back his hood to reveal that it's actually Leo! They all look horrified as Leo swiftly unsheathes a backsword and cuts the table in half like paper. The members jump back hurling their drinks. He slices them all into little pieces and plunges the sword into the oldest members' gullet. It seeps quickly into his ancient flesh, as he twists the sword upwards and out the top of his head.

"God of the Eternal! It's..." blurts the most nervous one as Leo inserts the tip of his sword inside his mouth and cuts out his tongue. He whips the weapon into the air behind him and a piece of tongue lands in a bar patrons drink, creating more bubbles.

The entire bar goes into pandemonium, although some are too drunk to react,staring wide-eyed, trying to concentrate. But most people begin rushing upstairs. The brave pull out steam-powered rifles and start shooting. The firearms are crude in design; imagine a musket, half the barrel length. Three pistons around the stock and a serpent insignia on each side. With each shot, the piston thrust the steam inside to fire the bullet. Leo dices the ones approaching him, dodges the other attacks and grabs the oldest member off the floor.