《Crown of Monsters》 Chapter 1~Valera Though it was the dead of winter, the market district of Olka was swarming with people, perfect for a day of looting. ¡°Six gold pieces for a fine sheet of silk for your lady!¡± A tradesman cried out, his voice getting lost in the cramped air, filled with the stench of sweat. A steaming fish shot out in front of Valera¡¯s face, a large, jolly looking man holding it by the tail. ¡°A pretty little fish for a pretty little dear!¡± He laughed, splitting its belly open right there, letting the stinking red contents stain the snow at Valera¡¯s feet. ¡°Keep your fish, merchant.¡± She muttered, tugging her thin deer-hide hood farther down her face. If anyone had the opportunity to see her right cheek, marred with puckered burn scars, they wouldn¡¯t even offer her a word. She ignored the fish and the merchants¡¯ chatter. She hadn¡¯t come for scraps. Her small feet crunched over the packed snow, red prints trailing her to the real prize¡ªthe Olka Spectacular. The Olka Spectacular was something that was set up every winter around this time, bringing people from far and wide to see rare and captured magical creatures. But it was, of course, just another business scheme, designed to get the greedy merchants more money. Valera slipped between the bodies crowding around the entrance, her nimble fingers already at work. A silk pouch here, a jeweled brooch there¡ªthe rich were always careless with their treasures when distracted by spectacle. She pocketed a gleaming gold coin purse from a noblewoman whose fur-lined cloak probably cost more than she¡¯d ever held in her hands at once. No one paid attention to the slight, almost skeletal girl moving through their midst. Her frame was so thin and sickly that most often mistook her for a child or a beggar not worth their notice. It was a misconception she¡¯d learned to use to her advantage. What they didn¡¯t see was the wiry strength in her frail-looking arms and legs, crafted through years of scaling walls and outrunning guards. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen!¡± A booming voice cut through the chatter. ¡°Step this way to witness creatures beyond your wildest imaginings!¡± Valera followed the flow of people into a vast tent, warmed by braziers that cast dancing shadows across the crowd. Perfect hunting grounds. The wealthy clustered near the front, eager to see the attractions. She worked her way closer, eyes scanning for the heaviest purses, the most distracted marks. That¡¯s when she saw it. In a cage barely large enough to contain its form, a creature with scales like liquid silver huddled in the corner. Its wings¡ªor what should have been wings¡ªwere bound tight against its body with cruel iron chains that seemed to burn where they touched the soft skin of its belly. An eye met hers¡ªdeep violet and unmistakably intelligent. Where the other eye should have been sat a gaping black hole, crusted with blood. ¡°This rare bevrodraach,¡± the showman announced, prodding the cage with a metal rod, making the creature flinch, ¡°can heal any man, woman, or child with a single bite of its flesh, but consider yourself warned, it can also plunge entire kingdoms into eternal winter. One village paid us all of their stores just to remove it from their midst after it never stopped snowing!¡± Something twisted in Valera¡¯s gut. The creature¡¯s eyes whispered a different story than the showman¡¯s grand claims. The bevrodraach didn¡¯t look like a harbinger of endless winter¡ªit looked scared. But magic was dangerous. Everyone knew that. Her mother had been killed by magic after the plague took her father and little brother¡ªat least that¡¯s what she¡¯d been told. She should fear this creature, not pity it. The showman jabbed again, harder this time, and a soft keening sound escaped the bevrodraach. Silver-white blood beaded along its flank where the rod had broken skin. Valera¡¯s hand closed around the knife at her belt before she¡¯d even realized it. She chewed at her lower lip, teeth tearing until she tasted copper. This wasn¡¯t part of the plan. Steal from the well off, yes. Free a potentially deadly magical creature? Madness. Yet her feet were already moving, sliding behind the nearby curtain where she glimpsed the cages being stored. The wealthy patrons gasped as they saw the next creature revealed, their attention fixed forward. No one noticed the small, hooded figure palming a ring of iron keys. ¡°It¡¯s just business,¡± she whispered to herself, though she knew it was anything but. ¡°I¡¯m stealing their most valuable asset, that¡¯s all.¡± But as she circled back towards the bevrodraach¡¯s cage, heart hammering in her chest, Valera knew she had crossed a line from which there would be no return. If she got caught this time around, the punishment would be more than just a few lashes. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°And now, ladies and gentlemen, witness one of the infamous flame dancers of Illia!¡± The showman¡¯s voice echoed from the other side of the tent. Perfect timing. With practiced hands, Valera tried the first key. It didn¡¯t fit. She tried another, then another, her hands trembling as more and more time passed. The fourth key slid in, and with a soft click, the lock opened. ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing, girl?¡± A gruff voice came from behind. Valera froze, the ring of keys still in her hand. She turned slowly to face a burly man with a thick red beard and arms crossed over his massive chest. Not a king¡¯s guard, she realized, letting out a breath. But still a guard, so she couldn¡¯t let her walls down just yet. She played the innocent card. ¡°I¡­ I just wanted a closer look,¡± she said, slipping the keys into her pocket and blocking the open cage with her body. The guard narrowed his unusually colored eyes. ¡°No one gets close to the beasts without pay; step back now.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s a shame,¡± Valera let her hood fall back, twirling a piece of raven hair absentmindedly. ¡°But just so you know, I won¡¯t be the one stepping away.¡± The guard reached for the club at his belt, but Valera was faster. Years of fighting had honed her reflexes to a razor¡¯s edge. She ducked under his outstretched arm and drove her knee hard into his gut. As he doubled over, gasping, she brought her elbow down against the base of his skull. He staggered but didn¡¯t fall. Strong, almost too strong. ¡°Little rat,¡± he growled, swinging his club in a wide arc. Valera danced backward on instinct. The streets of Olka had taught her well¡ªhesitate and you starve, falter and you die. She feinted left, then darted right as the guard lunged, using his momentum against him. In one swift motion, she hooked her foot behind his ankle and pushed. He went down hard, his head cracking against the bevrodraach¡¯s cage. The creature let out a soft, musical trill, almost like approval. Valera didn¡¯t waste time. She yanked the cage door fully open. ¡°Come on, you little bastard,¡± she whispered to the bevrodraach. ¡°You don¡¯t have much time.¡± It hesitated, its single eye coming to a rest at her feet where the guard groaned, beginning to stir. For a moment, the world tilted sideways, her vision swimming with black spots. She braced one bony hand against the cage, fingernails broken and dirty, waiting for the spell to pass. She couldn¡¯t afford this, not now. ¡°Curses,¡± Valera muttered, reaching into the cage. ¡°If you don¡¯t get out, I¡¯m going to leave you here. Don¡¯t make me get into any more trouble for your sake.¡± Her fingers brushed over scales, warm and surprisingly soft. The bevrodraach flinched at first, then pressed into her touch. In one fluid movement, it leapt from the cage and onto her shoulder, its weight shockingly light. The chains binding its wings rattled softly, digging in further. Shouts rose from the direction of the main tent. The guard¡¯s fall had made more noise than she¡¯d thought, though as she looked closer, it made sense; he was an enormous man. Valera kicked the guard¡¯s hand, then spun around, scanning for an exit. The bevrodraach nuzzled against her neck, then jerked its head toward a seam in the canvas behind them. Without questioning how the creature seemed to understand their situation, Valera ran to the spot and slashed the tent fabric with her knife. Cold winter air rushed in as she slipped through, the bevrodraach clinging tightly to her shoulder. Behind them, the shouting grew louder. ¡°The bevrodraach! It¡¯s gone! Search everywhere! Two hundred gold for whoever catches the thief!¡± Two hundred gold. That would bring every mercenary and desperate soul in Olka hunting for her. Valera pulled her hood back up and easily melted into the crowded market, bringing the creature into the folds of her cloak. Finally out of the market district, Valera snuck around the corner of an icy brick wall into an alleyway. She slid to her knees and opened up her cloak, allowing the tiny creature access to the ground. ¡°There you go, little guy. Now fly away.¡± The miniature dragon turned its nose up at her, attempting to unfurl its bound wings. ¡°Right.¡± Valera sighed, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to take you back to the shop, then. C¡¯mon now, let¡¯s pray that Myrtle doesn¡¯t flip his lid.¡± She picked it up, letting it nest in her hands. She hadn¡¯t gone more than a few blocks when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was following her. Valera adjusted her path, taking a more complicated route through narrower, less used alleys. The bevrodraach seemed to sense her tension, pressing closer against her palm. ¡°Just a bit of trouble,¡± she whispered to it. ¡°Nothing I can¡¯t handle.¡± It wasn¡¯t long that she had been sneaking through the shadowed alleys that she smacked straight into a person, walking the opposite direction. ¡°Watch it, won¡¯t you?¡± She hissed, rubbing her nose as she looked up at the tall man, clad completely in black assassin¡¯s leather from head to toe. Her eyes widened, noticing the thick silver ring that adorned his finger, marked with the Phantom Guild¡¯s symbol. She was right to have felt off then. The man chuckled, removing his hood to show his mop of curly white hair and a scabbed red gash down his cheek. ¡°Do you make a habit out of being so abrasive?¡± ¡°Good day.¡± Valera said, slinking away from him, her mind already plotting escape routes. ¡°Actually,¡± he called after her, ¡°Someone asked me to stop and question anyone I deem suspicious. There was a robbery this afternoon at the Olka Spectacular.¡± She stopped dead in her tracks. The bevrodraach shifted against her side, as if warning her. ¡°A robbery, you say?¡± ¡°Yes, a robbery.¡± Before she knew it, he was in front of her, flicking her own hood off. ¡°And I am deeming you suspicious.¡± Chapter 2~Osric Akuma¡¯s spear flew at Osric, slicing his cheek open in one fluid motion. ¡°What the hell?¡± Osric said, his half-eaten breakfast dropping to the floor. More laughter ensued, and Osric scoffed, picking fruit and boiled eggs off the floor. He absently toyed with the silver ring wrapped around his finger, the mark of a Jure, or also known as a member of the Phantom Guild. Osric had joined the guild with his best friend, Akuma, a few months after his mother¡¯s death. Which was eight years ago to this very day, his seventeenth birthday, also his mother¡¯s death day. He had decided to become an assassin after her passing to get it off his mind, but he still felt no different. Akuma slid onto the bench next to him, the old wood creaking in protest. The morning light from the window caught his gold eyes, making them glow against his dark skin. ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Akuma slapped the bench. ¡°I can¡¯t be that heavy.¡± He turned to Osric. ¡°I¡¯m not that heavy, am I? Ric?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to go train in the yard.¡± Osric said, standing abruptly. ¡°And how am I supposed to know how much you weigh, you idiot?¡± The cut on his cheek stung, but he didn¡¯t bother wiping away the blood. Let it bleed. Let it remind him of the day. Of her. * * * From an outsiders perspective, the yard looked just that, a cut field of grass with the occasional weed poking up. But to a trained eye, it was much, much more. Osric stepped onto the yard, the only one out there as the sun peeked over the horizon. He closed his eyes, listening. He slid to the side. In an instant, a massive spike shot up where he had been standing just milliseconds before. ¡°Activate level seven,¡± he commanded, his voice steady despite the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. The ground beneath his feet shook, ancient runes flaring to life in a jagged pattern across the field. The Phantom Guild¡¯s training yard was one of the few places in Olka where magic was permitted to flow freely, hidden from the prying eyes of the king¡¯s top soldiers, the Moons. A low growl rumbled from his left. Osric didn¡¯t turn to look. Instead, he launched himself into a back flip as a shadow beast¡ªa construct of solid darkness¡ªlunged for his throat. Its claws scraped the air where his neck had been. ¡°Too slow,¡± Osric taunted, drawing his black twin swords from his back in an x. The beast snarled, joined by two more materializing from the edges of the yard. They circled him, eyes gleaming with artificial hunger. The training constructs weren¡¯t real creatures, but the pain they could inflict certainly was. Osric took a deep breath, centering himself. This day. This cursed day that took everything from him. He welcomed the fury building in his chest. The first beast charged. Osric waited until the last possible moment before sliding beneath it, blades slicing upward through its shadowy belly. The construct howled, dissolving into wisps of dark smoke¡ªonly to reform seconds later, the magic of the yard ensuring the challenge remained. The second and third attacked in unison. Osric spun, swords extended, creating a whirlwind of steel. One beast caught a stab to the eye, the other receiving a deep gash across its flank. But a claw found its mark, tearing through his sleeve and drawing blood from his forearm. ¡°Not enough,¡± Osric snarled. ¡°Activate level nine.¡± The runes pulsed brighter, a dangerous shade of crimson. The air itself seemed to thicken as three more shadow beasts materialized, larger than the first batch. Behind them, a towering construct in the shape of a man wielding a massive great sword stepped forward. ¡°Level nine is not recommended for solo training,¡± came the automated warning from the yard¡¯s enchantment. Osric ignored it, dropping into a fighting stance. ¡°Come on, then.¡± The shadow knight swung its blade in a devastating arc. Osric ducked, the sword passing so close he felt the chill of its magic against his scalp. He countered with a flurry of strikes, his swords finding little purchase against the knight¡¯s armored form. Two beasts pounced from behind. Osric sensed rather than saw them, dropping to a crouch at the last second. The creatures collided mid-air, tangling in a mass of claws and shadow. He used the moment to spring toward the knight, driving both swords into the gap between helmet and breastplate. The construct staggered, but didn¡¯t fall. Its massive hand shot out, catching Osric by the throat and lifting him off the ground. The cold of its grip burned like ice against his skin. Osric didn¡¯t struggle. Instead, he pulled a hidden throwing knife from his belt and jammed it into the knight¡¯s visor. The grip loosened. He dropped to the ground, rolling away as the knight blindly swung its sword, taking out two of its own shadow beasts in the process. ¡°Activate level ten,¡± Osric gasped, blood from his open wounds dripping onto the grass below. The runes shifted from crimson to a deep, ominous purple. The ground trembled. ¡°Level ten requires authorization from a Guild Captain,¡± the yard protested. ¡°Override: Jure blood,¡± Osric snapped, pressing his bleeding palm against the nearest rune. The yard fell silent for a heartbeat. Then the earth split open. A massive serpentine form erupted from the crack, scales black as midnight and eyes burning like twin suns. A shadow drake¡ªthe most challenging construct the yard could produce. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Osric felt a grim smile spread across his face. This. This was what he needed today. The drake roared, the sound reverberating through his bones. It lunged, jaws wide enough to swallow him whole. Osric dove to the side, but not quickly enough to avoid the lash of its tail. The blow caught him in the ribs, sending him sprawling across the yard. Pain exploded in his side. Broken ribs, maybe. He pushed himself to his feet anyway, spitting blood onto the grass. The remaining shadow beasts closed in while the drake circled overhead. The knight had reformed, its sword now wreathed in dark flames. Osric laughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. ¡°Is that all?¡± He moved like water, like shadow itself¡ªthe training that he had beaten into himself since the moment he turned twenty taking over. His steel flashed in the early morning light, finding vulnerable points, severing magical connections. One beast fell, then another. The knight¡¯s head rolled from its shoulders after a particularly daring leap and strike. But the drake remained, and Osric was tiring. Blood ran from a dozen small wounds, and his lungs burned with each breath. The creature dove, fangs and talons extended. Osric threw himself forward instead of away, sliding beneath the drake¡¯s belly and driving both swords upward with all his remaining strength. The construct screamed, a sound that threatened to shatter his eardrums, before crashing into the ground where he had stood moments before. It thrashed, tail demolishing one of the yard¡¯s stone markers, wings beating furiously and tearing up chunks of earth. Osric pressed his advantage, climbing onto its back and driving his blades into the base of its skull. The drake bucked once, twice¡ªthen dissolved into tendrils of shadow beneath him. Osric fell hard onto the torn earth, his weapons clattering beside him. He lay there, chest heaving, sweat and blood mingling on his skin. The yard was unrecognizable¡ªgouged earth, shattered stone markers, smoking runes. His mother would have been appalled at the destruction. The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through him that had nothing to do with his injuries. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve been working hard, Osric.¡± A familiar voice, sharp as a steel edge, echoed around the yard. ¡°I¡¯m quite impressed.¡± Osric rose to his feet, wiping the grime and sweat off of his forehead, dirtying his loose-fitting training tunic, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. ¡°Captain.¡± Osric said, pressing a hand to his heart as a sort of salute. ¡°I had a lot on my mind.¡± The captain, a tall, burly, clean-shaven man stepped closer. ¡°I can tell. It¡¯s not every day that the yard gets demolished.¡± He took a breath, as if considering what to say next. ¡°But I do notice something, Osric. Our training yard always manages to get destroyed the same day, every year. I wonder why that is?¡± ¡°Captain¡­ I¡­¡± The Captain¡¯s weathered face softened as he surveyed the destruction. ¡°Never mind that. Walk with me, Osric.¡± It wasn¡¯t a request. Osric left his swords in the grass and followed the older man to the edge of the yard, where a stone bench sat beneath an ancient oak. The Captain lowered himself onto it with a grunt, patting the space beside him. Osric remained standing. ¡°If this is about the yard, I¡¯ll take extra duties to pay for the damages.¡± ¡°Sit.¡± The Captain¡¯s voice was gentle but firm. ¡°This isn¡¯t about the yard.¡± Reluctantly, Osric sat, wincing as his battered ribs protested. They sat in silence for a moment, watching as the training yard slowly began to heal itself, the torn earth knitting back together, the broken stone markers reforming. ¡°Eight years,¡± the Captain finally said. ¡°Eshea would be proud of who you¡¯ve become.¡± Osric¡¯s jaw tightened at the mention of his mother¡¯s name. Few in the Guild ever spoke it. ¡°You didn¡¯t know her well enough to say that.¡± The Captain didn¡¯t rise to the bait. Instead, he pulled a small flask from his belt and offered it to Osric. ¡°I knew her better than most. Before she left¡­ everything behind.¡± Osric took the flask but didn¡¯t drink, the words ¡°everything behind¡± hanging in the air between them. He felt the familiar itch between his shoulder blades¡ªthe phantom pain his mother had always warned him about. Never in public, she¡¯d whispered. Never where they can see. ¡°Is that why you recruited me? Because of her?¡± ¡°I recruited you because you were a lanky seventeen-year-old with uncanny reflexes and a talent for finding weak points.¡± The Captain¡¯s eyes crinkled at the corners. ¡°The rest¡­ is complicated.¡± Osric had heard rumors over the years¡ªwhispers about his mother and where she¡¯d come from before joining the Guild. He¡¯d never asked the Captain directly. Some truths were dangerous to speak aloud in Elspeth. ¡°I didn¡¯t come find you to reminisce,¡± the Captain continued. ¡°There¡¯s a job. Something that requires your particular¡­ perspective.¡± ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡± ¡°A theft at the Olka Spectacular. Something valuable was taken this morning.¡± Osric raised an eyebrow. ¡°Since when does the Guild concern itself with petty thievery?¡± ¡°Since the client is the royal court.¡± Osric¡¯s fingers tightened around the flask, the only outward sign of his reaction. ¡°The royal court,¡± he repeated, voice carefully controlled. ¡°Since when does the Guild work for the crown?¡± ¡°Since the price was right.¡± The Captain met his gaze steadily. ¡°It¡¯s a bevrodraach, Osric.¡± The flask nearly slipped from his fingers. Bevrodraachs were rare enough to be considered mythical by most. His mother had told him stories about them when he was young¡ªmassive silver-scaled creatures with healing powers and an affinity to see the unseen. ¡°They¡¯re cousins to you, in a way,¡± she had whispered one night. ¡°Creatures of the sky, though they chose a different path.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± he asked, his voice neutral. ¡°The Spectacular¡¯s showman claims so. The crown is offering five hundred gold for its return.¡± ¡°And our cut?¡± ¡°Three hundred.¡± Osric handed the flask back without drinking. ¡°Who¡¯s taking the job?¡± ¡°You are.¡± The Captain fixed him with a knowing look. ¡°Along with Akuma.¡± ¡°Why me?¡± Osric asked, though he already knew. The Captain didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he took a long drink from the flask. ¡°You know what the king does with creatures he captures.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. They both knew the royal menagerie was just a prettier word for a slaughterhouse. The young king¡¯s hatred for all things magical, all things different, was well-known throughout Elspeth. ¡°So you¡¯re giving me this job because¡­?¡± ¡°Because I trust you to do what¡¯s right.¡± The Captain¡¯s voice dropped. ¡°Your mother would want you to.¡± Osric stood abruptly, his body screaming in protest. ¡°Don¡¯t presume to know what she would want.¡± ¡°I know she didn¡¯t raise you to hand over innocent creatures to the butcher.¡± The Captain¡¯s eyes hardened. ¡°And I know today of all days, you might be looking for a way to honor her memory.¡± The words hit like a physical blow. Osric turned away, staring at the destroyed training yard. ¡°When do we leave?¡± ¡°Within the hour. Clean yourself up.¡± The Captain rose, placing a heavy hand on Osric¡¯s shoulder. ¡°And Osric¡ªwhatever you decide, be careful. The king doesn¡¯t take kindly to those who interfere with his¡­ collections.¡± As the Captain walked away, Osric absently twisted the silver ring on his finger¡ªthe only thing his mother had left him besides her warnings and a legacy he could never acknowledge. The ring caught the morning light, gleaming like scales. A bevrodraach in Olka. The king¡¯s men in pursuit. And him, caught in the middle. Again.