in which our heroes fight the demon king’s thrall to get the second sacred stone

Frell did not show up to the next strategy meeting, which was annoying but not unexpected. Even Alpherson did—at last. “Forgive me,” was his excuse, “I was running behind on a deadline. What a shameful host I am.”

The three of them sat at the bar, with the order as follows: Pebble, Topaz, Alpherson. A different bartender attended them tonight. Pebble ordered an extremely spicy milkshake in case Topaz committed crimes again. Alpherson ordered a cocktail. Topaz ordered choccy milk.

…the audacity…

“So a writer, huh?” Topaz leaned back on his booth. “That’s pretty cool. I’m not much of a reader, but I’ve seen your book around. The one with the gay pony.”

“Unicorn,” Alpherson corrected. “They are majestic, yet tragically extinct.”

“Not extinct,” Pebble said. “There’s a herd left in the Holy City. They’re trying to get the numbers up. But yeah. The god of unicorns died so it’s hard. But they’re trying and they’re not extinct.”

Slowly, Topaz’s straw approached Pebble’s drink. Good. He’d get a nasty little surprise. “Why don’t you become the goddess of gay ponies, Saint?”

“Why don’t you?” she snapped.

Alpherson had finished his cocktail. He got a second one. “Regardless, we are here not to discuss literature or equine homosexuality, but the strategy around the second sacred stone. I have halted all operations on the estate until further notice; all my staff will evacuate soon.”

“And your crazy wife?” asked Topaz.

For the first time since they’d met, Alpherson glared at them; both Topaz and Pebble flinched. The lighting obscuring his face didn’t help. “My what?”

“Your… wife.”

“I believe you’d added an adjective.”

“...sorry.”

Thus Alpherson averted his gaze. “Very well. They were to remain within the main house; if all else fails, Alphyn is a formidable mage. I’ve heard rumors about the god of apples wandering around. Is he well?”

Pebble pressed her thumb and forefinger against her eyelids. “Yeah. He gets lonely easily.”

“I understand.”

Topaz pointed at the bartender. “If your staff evacuated, then why is she here?”

“Hired mercenary,” she replied.

Not only that, but a Saint—she was wearing the badge. Pebble couldn’t tell what rank or specialty she had, nor did she care. Alpherson nodded. “Interesting. Did someone else from the estate hire you?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Alph… something.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

The presumed hired mercenary looked around as though she’d find the answer written somewhere. Topaz drank from Pebble’s milkshake, then spat on the floor. “What the FUCK is that!?”

“Filthy,” Pebble said, biting back the smirk. “Did no one teach you manners, crook?”

Alpherson stood up. He was almost two heads taller than the mercenary. “Can I please have the name of the person who hired you, the exact time and date, the exact amount they hired you for, for how long, and to what end?”

The mercenary sighed. “I misjudged you. I suppose it is time to show my true form.” Upon taking off a talisman, in her place stood a familiar wolf-woman. “I am the guardian of the second sacred stone. You killed my husband, the guardian of the first sacred stone. And now you must pay.”

If this wasn’t Frell, she was likely an acquaintance he’d threatened into joining. Unfortunately, that idiot hadn’t told her the full story. She probably assumed that they’d slayed the Frell-wolf instead of… well, the absolute fiasco that had devolved into. Before Topaz made fun of this, Pebble force-fed more of the milkshake to keep him busy, then said, “You’re wrong, though. We didn’t kill anyone. The first guardian was none other than the Demon King himself.”

Topaz was breathing fire. Literally. The wolf-woman rolled her eyes. “Regardless, my husband died, and I blame all of you. Go on, heroes. Show me your worth.”

Alpherson’s palm strike blasted her through the walls; as bottles of alcohol and artificial coloring exploded around them, the wolf-woman flew across the air, landing somewhere in the forest. “Oh,” he said. “My bad. I assumed she would put up more of a fight.”

So did Pebble, to be fair. After all, this was the same Saintess that’d summoned a divine weapon to parry her strike days ago. Very, very few Saints wielded divine weapons. Stormy had been one of them.

Pebble felt something in her nose. Topaz had stabbed her with a straw, probably out of revenge. Since she refused to react, he stuck another one up her other nostril. She held her breath.

“Here it comes,” Alpherson said.

Something flashed at the distance. Before the light beam reached them, a fire blast swallowed it, taking the forest down with it. The latter had come from the mansion, briefly illuminating the estate. It was nothing the rain and a good botanist couldn’t fix, but it made Pebble grimace nonetheless.

Seconds later, a blizzard blasted through the woods. “Don’t mind her,” Alpherson said. “It isn’t often that she gets to use magic anymore.”

Due to the darkness, it was hard to see Alphyn unless she cast a spell. For every natural disaster she caused, the wolf-woman would retaliate, though neither got any closer to the other.

“Don’t you have anything to light up this place?” Topaz asked. “How can they see anything? Come to think of it, wasn’t that the wolf-woman that offered you a ride, Saint?”

Twilight had arrived, though the storm clouds obscured this. Absently, as she took off the straws, Pebble nodded. “I’m… not sure if we should get involved.”

“I think so too,” Alpherson said. He was smiling. “Alphyn can handle this.”

A lightning bolt fell from the sky.

“If I can ask,” began Pebble, “Why can she cast Saint-level spells?”

“She is not one, if that is what you suggest. However, she comes from a lineage of archmages. Unfortunately, her clan was slaughtered during the war; she is the only surviving member.”

“Um. Sorry to hear.”

“Don’t be. I just hope that she doesn’t encounter the god of apples again.”

“...oh, dear. I can see where this is going. Did a god kill her family?”

Alpherson nodded. “And her family slayed gods. It was a sad, miserable cycle, but it will come to an end soon. To judge one’s past is to judge a ghost. It is the present that should define us.”

Topaz snorted. He was sitting on the counter now, not a stool. “Easy for you to say. Try losing everything you love. Then the past is all that matters.”

The clouds above the woods began to form a vortex, lightning crackling within. “That’s her signature move,” Alpherson said.

“Go on, coward. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You are. If the past is all that matters, then why did you bury it? Why are you here?”

Like the coward he was, instead of replying, Topaz said, “Well, at least that explains why you kept calling me ‘broken’ which, by the way, fuck you.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes? No wonder your wife is cuckoo if that’s how you think of her.”

As a tornado formed, Pebble’s hair swayed around her. She’d gone for a five-strand braid today, but the stupid spell would ruin her efforts. And then people asked why she hated magic.

More importantly—given Alpherson’s story, the murder attempt, and the talk about killers, it was no wonder that Frell had vanished and sent someone else in his stead. At times he sounded guilty about his past… escapades… but then he’d joke about it or say that mortals to him were what ants were to people.

Why had he defected? Who knew.

Why had he chosen to get sealed? Who knew.

Why did he travel with Pebble when he could spend his days in the Holy City, especially knowing what happened whenever his seal was discovered? Who knew. He kept evading her question.

“We’re all broken,” Pebble said. “Therefore nobody is. There. End of story. I’ll go check on the wolf-woman.”

“No, no, you don’t get it.” Topaz aimed at Alpherson with a straw. “Guys like these think all you need in life is to believe in yourself or whatever. They think that they’re… that they’re these wise beacons of virtue. Meanwhile their loved ones are falling apart because, guess what, not everyone can think their way out of what you call ‘broken’. You people are delusio—”

Pebble slung him over her shoulder. “Let’s go,” she told Alpherson.

“I believe she can do it.”

“Maybe. To be honest, I’m more worried about the wolf-woman.”

Alpherson did not respond. “Coward,” Topaz told him while hanging off Pebble’s shoulder.

“Indeed.”

Unfortunately, Pebble wouldn’t be able to carry Alpherson with him doubling her in size, let alone both of them at once. “What do your self-help books say about fear?” she asked. “Something like… you can only grow past your fears by confronting them. Yes?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then practice what you preach.”

Alpherson had his arms crossed, eyes closed, as though that sufficed as a shield. “I shall bounce Topaz’s words back to you: easy for you to say. To see a loved one break is not an evil I’d wish upon anyone, including the one who slayed her clan, whom I have been protecting.”

So Alpherson knew who Frell was…

“How, Saint, am I supposed to help someone who does not want to be helped? How?”

She had no answer to that.

From the woods emerged a light so bright that it swallowed the night sky. Something slashed the tornado in half; it dissipated a moment later.

The wolf-woman—the Saintess—had summoned her divine weapon. With an unanswerable question weighing her down, Pebble broke into a sprint, taking a broken bottle along.

“What just happened?” asked Topaz.

“Divine weapon. This is bad. This is bad.”

For whichever reason, Alphyn did not retaliate. With how rare divine weapons were for Saints, Pebble wouldn’t blame her if she thought that she was battling a god and not a glorified mortal. Part of her wanted to believe that Alpherson was chasing after them, but the lack of splashes behind her said otherwise.

“Topaz, how durable would you say that you are?”

“Uh… no? Whatever it is, no?”

“I need a bigger weapon than this bottle.”

“What the—NO!?” He dropped his weight, which made her stumble; he rolled out of her grasp. “Absolutely not. I can make an ice sword for you if you want, but I MYSELF will not be one.”

“Whatever. Make it Topaz-shaped at least.”

“Why!?”

So then she had an ice sculpture as a weapon. “Back me up. If you see an attack incoming… would you be able to block it?”

“Saint, I can’t see anything.”

“Isn’t one of your eyes supposed to be working, you useless—”

“Careful!”

It wasn’t a direct attack, but debris heading her way; Pebble parried the splinter with ice-Topaz before it rammed itself into her. A charred, frozen, electrified pine forest under a storm at night wasn’t the worst terrain she’d been in, but it was pretty up there.

The divine spear glowed brightly enough that Pebble could discern the Saintess’s silhouette under the rain. The talisman must’ve fallen off or… well, gotten soaked. Without looking at her, the Saintess said, “Leave.”

“Where’s Frell?”

That made her glance at Pebble from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, so you did recognize me, Saint of Swords #244.” There was a pause. “Never mind, you haven’t. How about this? Your slices are kind of weak. To trust a god is the worst thing you could do.”

“The… Primordial Saintess? Wait, you’re working with Frell?”

“For now. At your rank, one stray attack from this mage will pulverize you, let alone the boy from the wood tribe.”

“What about the stone?”

“...ah, that thing. I saw it flying around earlier.”

Of course.

Strangely, the Primordial Saintess lowered her stance. “She’s not attacking because you’re here,” she said. “She must not want to hurt you. Her attacks were so wild that I thought she was in some sort of frenzy, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. Regardless, you should leave. You can find that horrid glittery thing in the morning.”

There wasn’t much she could do, but this bothered her anyway. “Nothing will happen to Alphryn, right?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“And you won’t try to… stop us?”

After a strange pause, the Primordial Saintess replied, “Ask Frell. He will be meeting you soon.”