I Demand a Prize

The throne room was a whirlwind of new, contradictory theories.

“So we are to believe,” Demidicus began, pacing before the throne as he pieced the puzzle together, “that there is the true Saint Serenya, who wields Ars Caelus, and then there is this mysterious ‘Saint X’, who wields Ars Marens?”

Helartha, still kneeling, nodded vigorously. “Yes. I believe Anna’s sword is a fake. The real power was with the masked one you fought.”

“And our agent, Anna, is now unresponsive,” she added, her voice a silken whisper. “Her communication stone has been compromised. What are your orders concerning her, Lord Yarte?”

The skeletal lich was silent for a long moment, the fires in his eyes unwavering. “Pietta,” he rumbled. “Before the connection was severed, how many of the seeds I provided did the vampire plant?”

“All of them, my lord,” Pietta answered immediately. “My senses confirmed the activation of all thirty stones, spread throughout the whole city. Last one were about an hour ago.”

Yarte nodded, a dry, rasping sound. “Then she did her job.”

Demidicus muttered under his breath, a look of grudging respect on his face. “So while we were fighting this ‘Saint X’ at the ruins, Anna was simultaneously completing her own mission… Clever.”

“She is a valuable asset,” Yarte confirmed. His tone hardened, his rage returning. “However, the ten seeds she planted within the barracks have already been purified. No doubt the work of the true Serenya. That damned Saint… Any idea to kill her?”

Everyone stay still, usually it was Uetum who made some noise, but this time, she’s also silent.

“Uetum,” Yarte’s voice cut through the chatter, silencing the room. “You are the first to crave battle, yet you are suspiciously quiet. Why is that?”

The catgirl flinched, all eyes suddenly upon her. She stood up nervously, her tail twitching. “Nyaa… well… Lord Yarte…” she stammered, looking to Pietta for help, who could only offer a terrified shake of her head.

“It’s just…” Uetum finally managed, her voice a confused squeak. “Anna-chan said… she said the big fight with the Saint was a distraction. A Phase One. She said it was for… um… ‘disposable pawns.’”

A deadly silence fell over the throne room.

Uetum, completely oblivious to the bombshell she had just dropped, continued earnestly. “Anna-chan said our real job, the important job, was to wait for Phase Two! When the Saint is busy, we’re supposed to do the secret saving the mine part! If we all go fight the Saint now, who will do Phase Two?” She puffed out her chest with a hint of pride.

“Uetum can’t go! Uetum is Anna-chan’s ‘blade in the shadows’! I have to wait for her signal!”

Demidicus's lips formed a gentle grin. His voice breaking the tension, "The cat is a fool, but even a fool can stumble upon the truth."

“The real Serenya could kill us all with a glance. If we attack blindly. But I do wonder. Save the mines? How?”

“Then let’s just ask the vampires.” Yarte, silent on his throne, raised a skeletal hand. The air in front of him wavered, then tore open, revealing a swirling portal of pure shadow.

Everyone waited. A moment later, a figure stepped through.

It was Anna.She appeared to have been interrupted in the middle of a peaceful evening, dressed simply in a black tunic and pants instead of the ragged clothing she had worn throughout the battle. Her face was one of slight displeasure as she glanced about at the gathered swarm of demons.

“So this is what you meant when you said you were going to call me anytime,” she said, her voice dry.

Demidicus watched her intently. The vibe was completely different. The masked figure at the Tramble Site had been a whirlwind of raw, untamed power and holy light and weird aura. This vampire was quiet, contained, her energy a coiled serpent held in perfect check.

Anna’s eyes swept over the horned demons, the shadow-elf, and the other monstrous figures. “Why are there so many demonkin here?” she asked, a flicker of feigned concern on her face. “Did I make a mistake?”

“No,” Yarte’s voice rumbled. “You became unresponsive. I summoned you to ascertain your loyalty.”

Anna let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I see. That stone Pietta gave me was suspicious. A guard confiscated it, thinking it was one of your seeds. It was only a matter of time before they analyzed its magical signature.”

The lich lord nodded, accepting the plausible lie. “Where is your sword? The ‘Ars Maren’?”

“Being fixed,” Anna replied without missing a beat. “It took some damage during the Mupo bird attack last night. One of the knights, a rather skilled blacksmith, offered to repair it for me.”

Suddenly one of the lesser demon captains, a gaunt figure with blades for hands, teleported directly behind Anna, placing the ice-cold edge of his weapon against her throat.

“A test of your composure,” the demon hissed.

Anna didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. In reality, her heart had seized in her chest. But on the outside, she tried to keep it calm.

Demidicus sensed it as he watched from the side. He felt a wave of murderous intent emanate from her for a brief, minuscule second as the blade touched her flesh. It was so cold and so vast that it caused chills to crawl across his skin and the hairs on his arms to rise up. It wasn't holy at all.

“Now what is this?” Anna asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

“Stand back, Pirtor,” Yarte commanded. The demon immediately obeyed, going back into the ranks.

The lich lord looked at Anna, his burning eyes reassessing her.

“You have proven your worth and your composure,” Yarte stated. “From this day forward, you are no longer a mere informant.” He gestured a skeletal hand towards her.

“You are my eyes and ears within Frola. Your new primary objective is to prepare the city for its fall from within. And you will find the truth of these two Saints. The ghost in the tower and the warrior in the mask. You are no longer just an informant. You will be my agent of subterfuge.”

Anna processed the new parameters.

A slow, confident smile spread across her face. “In that case, I demand a prize for the work I have already completed inside the barracks.”

“Do give your report.”

“Oh yeah. The barracks has a standing force of eight hundred knights, with a surge capacity of twelve hundred, though only a third are battle-ready at any given time. Their primary armory is in the central keep, but their supply of enchanted munitions is critically low after the Mupo attack. Their command structure is rigid; Captain Destrian commands loyalty, but Vice-Captain Olomyar commands fear and is prone to acting without orders.” She paused, letting the information sink in before delivering the final, brutal blow.

“And… I took the liberty of neutralizing their secondary food pantry near the stables. They’ll discover it by morning.”

Yarte’s burning eyes shifted to the Helartha, who closed her own eyes for a moment. A crow perched on her shoulder cawed softly.

“It is all true, my Lord,” Helartha confirmed, her voice laced with surprise. “My familiar confirms the numbers, and the pantry is indeed a smoldering ruin.”

A dry, rattling sound came from Yarte’s skeletal jaw, the closest he could get to a pleased chuckle. The asset was exceeding all expectations.

“Excellent work, my Shadow,” he rumbled.

Anna’s lips curved into a slow, terrifyingly confident smile. “But I’m already far ahead of you, Lord Yarte,” she said, her voice a triumphant purr.

“They will give me the key.”

“The key?”

“To the mines, of course.”

Every single one of them watched her in confusion and awe. “Did she…?”

“Hm… and for what do I want…” She met the Lich Lord’s burning gaze without an ounce of fear. “I do have 3 things…”