Royal Champions Vs. Evil Minions Round One
Late Afternoon
Skulking Around a Formerly Cursed City
Waiting
“Delilah should have returned by now,” Fitz said, his eyes locked on the back entrance to the Lord of Grimnight’s lair.
About ten minutes ago, there had been a lot of commotion, and then the guards had changed shifts.
Twenty-three minutes after the hour seemed like an odd time for a change.
Was someone late or early? Were the guards needed inside?
Maximus’ expression darkened. It’d already been quite dark, ever since Trey had separated from them, but now Maximus would have looked right at home in the evil lair. “She trusted him,” he said with no other explanation.
Fitz sighed. “That means we’re going into this blind.” They’d begun this quest with five champions and a mage and now it was only the three of them. “Angelica, maybe you shouldn’t—”
“Shouldn’t what?” she asked, eyes narrowed and fingers toying with the dagger on her belt.
Fitz snapped his mouth shut, hiding his stupid tongue between his teeth. He only spoke again once she’d removed her hand. “Draw it out as long as you can but try to win.”
“I always win,” she snarled.
Against her own personal guards and in refereed competitions. Fitz didn’t want to start infighting in what little was left of their group, so he kept that thought to himself. “See you inside.”
She nodded once and snuck around the corner, distancing herself from Fitz and Maximus to keep them out of the line of fire.
Fitz turned to Maximus. “You ready?”
Maximus’ jaw tightened. “Why are we doing all this? The Lord of Grimnight caught Delilah already and we have no idea what he’s done to Trey. We shouldn’t risk Angelica just for a distraction.”
“Because otherwise it’ll be three-against-fifty?” Fitz shook his head. “We can’t storm the lair and challenge him to a duel. We’d never defeat him that way. He tricked us, don’t you want to turn the tables on him?”
The clash of swords echoed from the distance, their signal that Angelica’s distraction had begun.
Fitz and Maximus remained in a low crouch as they approached the lair.
When they reached a back entrance, Maximus pulled out his tools and quickly picked the lock.
They braced themselves for a tell-tale screech, but the door opened smoothly, its hinges freshly oiled. They pushed it open and peeked inside.
A guard walked through the hallway, their back to the door for now. When they reached the end, they rounded the corner and continued their patrol.
Fitz and Maximus snuck inside, slipping into the closest room before the guard returned.
Sunlight streamed in through the windows, revealing a completely stripped office.
The two-toned walls indicated where file cabinets had once been, recently removed and stored elsewhere.
There wasn’t anywhere to hide, so if the guard returned and checked all the rooms, they’d be screwed.
“This is a stupid idea,” Maximus snapped, keeping his voice low.
“I didn’t see you coming up with a better one!” Fitz’s voice rose a little too loud and he forced it back to a whisper. “Gods, you all leave the planning to me, then complain the second we hit a rough patch.”
“Leave the planning to you? You took charge before we ever met you. Convincing everyone to come to Misfortune, hosting the meetings in your private residence, deciding every little detail without waiting for anyone else’s opinion.”
Fitz’s jaw dropped as he stared at Maximus in disbelief. “You think I wanted to do all of that?”
Something giggled nearby, the sound both cheerful and menacing. They paused their argument, but the sound didn’t repeat.
“None of you offered any input,” Fitz whispered, picking up right where they’d left off.
“Maybe if you’d given us more time to think, but no, you had to rush, rush, rush through the process.”
A second giggle followed the first.
“Because we have a deadline!” Fitz shoved Maximus hard toward the door. “We couldn’t risk dragging our feet.”
The door opened a crack, a flash of green and purple on the other side.
“I never wanted to go on a quest to begin with!” Maximus shouted. “I would have preferred to get married!”
A soft gasp from the audience.
Fitz gawked at him. “To who? Angelica? Delilah?”
A soft blush darkened Maximus’ cheeks and he shook his head sharply. “I wanted to marry …”
Tension thickened the air, waiting for the confession.
Fitz and Maximus lunged at the same time, snatching up the little eavesdroppers.
They’d only expected the two who had delivered the message at the beginning of their journey, so the pink one almost escaped.
It fluttered away from them, almost out of reach, when Maximus’ hand closed on its barbed tail.
“Ow!” The sound was equal parts pain and offense as Maximus dragged the imp into his arms. He had one cradled in each now, and they squirmed and wriggled, wings flapping and tail lashing as they struggled.
“Watch their teeth,” Fitz warned as he wrestled his captive into submission. He didn’t know how to tie up an imp, so he simply wrapped the rope around it, turning it into a little hemp bundle with clawed feet and watery black eyes. “They’re venomous.”
“And poisonous,” the pink one chirped, momentarily forgetting to struggle.
Fitz plucked the pink imp from Maximus’ arm and gave it the same treatment as the first. By the time he finished, Maximus had tied up the last imp, closing off his knot with a dainty bow.
“Meanies,” the green imp complained, throwing itself flat on the ground. It rolled over and over, like a little ball, kicking its feet. “We’re supposed to set traps, not you!”
The other two also kicked uselessly, tiny heads thrashing through the air. It took several minutes for them to finally give up, their heads drooping in defeat.
“Wilde’s gonna be so mad at us,” the purple one bemoaned.
The other two openly cried at the realization.
Fitz’s heart clenched at their weeping. An apology pressed against his lips, but he forced it down. “You’re better performers than we are.”
The pink one immediately stopped. “We’ve been practicing!” Then started crying again, the tears loud and noisy.
“Shit.” Fitz reached forward to silence it, then ripped his hand away when he remembered its sharp teeth.
“We’ll be quiet if you give us sweets,” the green one said.
“I don’t have any sweets.”
The imp inhaled deeply, then wailed at the top of its lungs.
Fitz and Maximus hurried from the room, leaving them to cry themselves hoarse.
“Rude!” they declared in unison, right before Fitz closed the door.
He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing limp strands back into a neater style. “Well, that wasn’t so bad. You did an excellent job, Maximus.” He patted the larger man’s shoulder fondly. “Never would have pegged you for an actor. Could almost hear real regret in your voice.”
Angelica Calamitous had been waiting for this moment since their second quest began. Before that, if she was honest. From the first time she’d met him, she wanted to prove that her skills extended beyond ‘feminine wiles.’
Once she was far enough away from Fitz and Maximus to not give away their location, she walked straight down the road, toward the front entrance of The Lord of Grimnight’s lair.
The trees had been cleared along the former road, creating a straight path between her and her target.
“Captain Fyodor!” she shouted, drawing as much attention as possible.
The minions standing guard outside the front door exchanged wary looks, then one of them slipped inside.
Another pair of minions on a patrol nearby crept out from between two storefronts.
She registered the clean facades and replaced windows with a little, confused frown.
She’d assumed the Lord of Grimnight liked the aesthetic of the broken buildings, trophies of his triumph after conquering the city. Why had he begun renovations this time?
None of the minions attacked her, though they approached slowly, creating a loose circle around her, their weapons at the ready. There was no turning back now. To escape, she’d have to fight her way out.
Her opponent walked out the front door. Seven feet tall and as broad as an ox, the orc had olive green skin, a strong jaw, and bold lips tilted in a confident smile.
His tusks gleamed, freshly polished. Over his shoulder he carried an enormous club like it weighed nothing.
Angelica pictured him tossing her over his shoulder, one large hand firmly grasping her bottom to keep her in place.
When he saw who had called for him, a dark brow rose in challenge. “Isn’t this a pretty sight. I assume you’re one of the royal champions?” Magic and time wiped all recognition from his face. He stared at her like she was a stranger.
Angelica straightened and lifted her chin, lowering her eyelashes to give the impression she was looking down on him despite the advantages of his height.
“I am Princess Angelica Calamitous. I’ve come to defeat the Lord of Grimnight, but first I want to defeat his greatest warrior.
Prove that I’m a threat he never should have underestimated. ”
“And you asked for me by name,” Fyodor said, cocking his head to the side. His black eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her rapier—miniscule next to his chosen weapon—and the dagger at her hip. “Let’s see how much good that does you.”
She tensed, waiting for him to charge her with his oversized club. One strike from it would break bones or knock her unconscious. She’d have to focus on dodging.
But he dropped the club to his side and passed it to another minion, who handed him a slim box.
He flipped the lid open and pulled out a silver rapier, twisting it so the light glimmered along the blade.
“Don’t get much use out of this one, but it’s not a fair challenge if I snap your pretty little toothpick with one hit.
” He swished the rapier through the air with a soft whoosh and nodded in satisfaction.