No longer just heroes of humans

Tanerag’s gate opens the moment guards see the Hero Party.

The Hero Party steps through as morning light streaks across cobblestone. Behind them lies a forest full of mushrooms and insects the size of humans. Ahead, towers scrape the sky, flags flutter with the crest of man. Watchers are murmuring from rooftops, all are surprised by the creatures walking alongside the returning heroes - the looming threat that has haunted this area for years.

Spidaract wears a long cloak to conceal his limbs, but that can’t stop people from looking at him with concerns. Asa walks beside Arthur with her hood pulled low, but everyone sees the web fluids on her face.

When they reach the capital’s plaza, a contingent of royal guards appears to escort them. They all have surprised faces as everyone expects the archna to be disposed of. The Hero Party, once just three students, now carries something far heavier than dreams.

The insects remain outside the city walls. But Spidaract stays close. He shows people a glowing mark across his upper chitin, a symbol of king given by enarmons muamons alike, which quiets the murmurs.

They are taken directly to the central tower of Tanerag: the Hall of Truth, where only the king and the great sages speak freely.

There, five figures wait.

Mike stands among them, hands behind his back. On either side are the four other members of the Elder Council - the heads of economy, history, religion, and warfare - each robed in a different color.

“Arthur,” one of them says, nodding to the others. “Come in.”

Asa starts to follow, but Mike lifts a hand. “Just him.”

Arthur hesitates. He glances at Spidaract, who gives him a small nod and a pat on the back.

Then, he steps through the doors.

Inside, the council chamber is shaped like an eye. A single table curves around Arthur’s standing point. Above, a painted ceiling shows the history of humankind: from caves and stone, to airships and divine seals.

But the faces watching him now are not looking for beauty.

“Tell us your journey in Velkath,” the man with the red cloak, the elder of warfare, says.

Arthur does.

He recounts the creatures of Velkath, the rules they live by, the queen who actually protects her land. He speaks of Spidaract, of Asa’s help, of how the forest operates not just on brute strength and killing, but through understanding and communication.

At last, he talks about the suggestion of alliance - the reason why the king of Velkath is here.

When he finishes, an uncomfortable silence stretches.

Mike’s voice comes first. “The insects have crowned one that knows our powers and technologies. That, by itself, should never be ignored.”

“But to what end?” says the woman in the blue cloak, the elder of religion. “We cannot hold communion with wild beasts.”

“The insects of Velkath aren’t just beasts,” Arthur counters.

“Yes,” replies the elder of history. “They’re worse, monsters with sentience, strategy and brute strength just behind the skalls.”

The woman in the green cloak, the elder of economy, taps his fingers. “We have little to gain: the forest’s terrain is poor for expansion, their foods are incompatible for humans and their culture - even if you can call it that - is too alien.”

“And threats?” asks the elder of warfare. “Plenty, some species in that forest can split a battalion and some can swarm any army’ branch we have.”

“You want to betray them,” Arthur says flatly.

A pause. Then all of the elders answer: “Yes.”

The word is cold, not cruel, but mostly emotionless.

“If we accept the alliance,” says Mike slowly, “we walk into a future we cannot predict. If we strike first, we shape the map. That is our only guarantee of peace, one where we are not overrun a century from now.”

Arthur stares at them. At all of them.

“And you want me to do what?”

“Nothing,” says Mike. “We will strike and you will not interfere.”

When Arthur exits the room, the sun is already lower. Clouds cling to the spires. A shadow hangs across his brow.

Enger waits just outside, seated on the steps like he owns them. His royal jacket is unbuttoned and his sword rests across his lap. He is looking at Arthur with a prideful smirk.

“Let me guess,” Enger says. “They want to burn the bug-king’s throne and expect you to stay still while they do it.”

Arthur doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

Enger stretches, then stands. “I thought so.”

“Do you agree with them?” Arthur asks.

Enger snorts.

“Practically, that’s the best course of action to gain long-term advantage. However, I do owe your arachna friend

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “Then why aren’t you stopping them?”

“A king wouldn’t do that, he would think for his people.”

Enger steps forward and lowers his voice.

“But a hero would do everything for his friend, right?”

Then, he gives Arthur a thick, folded piece of paper.

“You have the opportunity to leave tonight. I’ve already arranged it. There’s a tunnel under the eastern wall, hidden behind a warehouse marked with a rusted bell. Wait until midnight, then leave before the council sends someone to watch you.”

Arthur hesitates. “You’re sending us away…alone?”

“No,” Enger says. “I’m just giving you a piece of information, that’s all.”

Arthur claps Enger on the shoulder.

“Heroes like us don’t get to rest when we can do something. We either get too old…or die trying to save someone.”

Arthur smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Trust me, I will try doing something.”

That night, under a sky of stars and shadow, the Hero Party moves.

Asa clutches her cloak tight, hood drawn low. Spidaract walks slightly behind, trying his best not to make any noise. Arthur leads, guided by the map Enger gave.

They reach the warehouse just before midnight. The guide tells them to open a door on the floor, so Arthur does it. Below, an old tunnel stretches out, once used by smugglers and spies.

They walk.

Hours pass. At the edge of dawn, light returns.

When they emerge into a field of dew and wind, Arthur turns once, just once, to look back at the city.

He says nothing.

But behind him, Asa reaches out and takes his hand, a princess like her doesn’t get much chance to walk this long.

Back in Tanerag, the Elder Council reconvenes. Mike arrives late, but stays silent the whole meeting.

One of the guards rushes in.

“Sir! The Hero Party…they’re gone!”

“How?” the elder of religion asks.

“They…escaped. The gate team saw nothing. They must have used the secret…”

The warfare elder stands. “Find them immediately. They cannot be allowed to side with the monsters.”

Then another guard stumbles in.

“There’s more,” he gasps. “A scout…from the border. He sees the skalls…”

The room falls silent.

“They’re coming.”