Squad Games [Squad Building LitRPG] [Book One Complete]

MERCS:

Greenblade | Clamor | The Harvester | The Guvnah | Vixen | Mental | Valnor Farsight | Oripione

They crossed the Auster at Linby and headed north. They walked through a no-man's land, unsettled by westerners or Kuthenians.

Stiff had given them a name and a location where they'd find Eyota. But Ashlyn had her doubts. He'd also promised he'd help her take Wynter down, and that hadn't happened.

"If we're relying on Stricken's last words for the whereabouts of the princess," she said, "this may be a fruitless journey. Only the gods know why Stiff put any faith in him."

"Stiff certainly ain't wasting his own time on this mission," Mental added.

"I think Stricken will have told the truth." This from Clamor, of all people.

"He was a treacherous bastard," Ashlyn said. Maybe Felix thought he knew Stricken. But she'd seen who he was. What he did.

"I've every reason to hate the bastard," said The Guvnah. "But sometimes bastards tell the truth. Let's reserve judgement until we get there. As far as I know, it's the only lead we have."

Ashlyn held her tongue. She was getting mighty tired of these higher level mercs always thinking they knew best. But scrubbing Eyota from the world would help her sleep a little better. She still had nightmares after the beating she had received. Not helped by seeing Christoph again. The way he'd looked at her…with pity, when he'd once looked at her with adoration.

She shook the image from her mind, trying to focus on the mission.

The elf returned to the group. "The palace is five miles away," Valnor informed them.

"Is it really red?" Vixen asked him.

"Crimson spires rise into the sky. You'll see them soon enough."

The Crimson Palace came into view at the same time as they connected onto an ancient road. Overgrown and invisible in most places, the smooth stone slabs were unmistakeable at others, another trace of the Sargassian Empire that had once ruled these parts. With Eyota's destruction, the final chapter of that civilization's story would at last be written.

Ashlyn was reminded of her conversations with Yaiza in the village of Varena that huddled amongst the mountains in the far north. Those Sargassians still had a memory of the empire of their ancestors. It was incredible how long a people could keep alive their history. But surely the memory of the Sargassians would now fade for good. Others would come upon this palace and wonder who had built it.

The fortress had been built as a display of magnificence as much as a place of defence. Not that it was defensible now. The outer wall had been breached and left unrepaired. Two goblin heads sat on spikes on either side of the breach. They'd been placed there recently.

"She's here," said Clamor.

They made their way through the stone rubble to a long set of steps that brought them amongst the towers and spires of the palace.

Oripione's sword glowed as she held it before her, shedding a golden tinge on the crimson stone. It was The Guvnah's blade that mattered. For now, Blueblade was in abeyance.

"Over there," Valnor suggested.

A reinforced door had been left half open. They followed the elf towards the entrance. It took them to a stone flagged corridor.

"Could have done with Bletcher's Staff of Warning at this point," Mental muttered.

"Could have done with any wizard," Vixen added. "We have three of them. Stiff couldn't spare one?"

She looked up and down the corridor with a nervous expression. It reminded Ashlyn she wasn't the only one who suffered at the hands of Eyota.

Oripione held Goldblade aloft while Valnor studied the dusty floor of the corridor. "Footprints," he announced. "Fairly recent. They go this way."

The elf and tiefling led the way. They approached an arched opening. Next to Ashlyn, Blueblade began to glow. They readied weapons. They had two archers, a slinger, and five close-quarter fighters. Enough for a lone princess. Wasn't it?

They rushed the room. Ashlyn took in high windows and old skeletons laid out on the floor. But her focus was elsewhere. Valnor let out a cry and released his arrow.

At the far end of the chamber was Eyota. She met the missile with her vambrace, knocking it aside.

Ashlyn expected to see a knowing smirk from the princess. But she seemed in sombre mood. "So many great warriors come for me? I should be honoured." She eyed The Guvnah's sword as the Rotten Apples moved carefully, blocking off exits, cornering her like a hunted animal.

Eyota didn't look like running. "Why not recruit me into your army? I would be devastating."

"You have caused too much harm for that." Oripione spoke softly, but firmly.

Eyota tilted her head, as if confused by the tiefling's words. "Harm? Any more harm than one expects in war? Certainly, nothing like the atrocities that were visited on my people."

"You had us turned into your slaves," Mental reminded her.

"And kept as your prisoners," Vixen added.

"You brutalised me," Ashlyn said, feeling a release as she laid out Eyota's crimes. "You killed my friends. How can you expect to join us?"

"And you haven't killed your enemies? We are all warriors here."

"You abused me." Clamor's voice was choked with emotion. "When I was defenceless."

Eyota looked at the floor. It seemed as if Clamor's charge had ended her resistance. She placed Greenblade on the ground. "You should wield my sword again," she said to Ashlyn, and slid it across the floor.

She then looked the others in the eye, Clamor included. "I died fighting for my people in this very room. Then, years later, I was raised from the dead here, by Amotken. I didn't ask for that. Perhaps I should have realised that I was a monster and would do monstrous things. I wish the last year had never happened. It is not how I wish to be remembered. Clamor. Will you do it?"

She got down on one knee.

Clamor placed his bow on the floor and took the offered Blueblade from The Guvnah. Ashlyn picked up Greenblade and stepped forwards with him, wary of a last trick from the Sargassian.

"You are warriors who bested me," Eyota said, "and should be rewarded as such. When you are done, go down to the cellar. You will find your rewards there."

She bent her neck, ready for Clamor's blow.

Perhaps Eyota regretted her choice of Clamor as executioner. He was no swordsman, and it took him three blows to sever her head from her shoulders. But she didn't cry out or complain.

Blueblade's light faded, and Eyota Twice Lived, the last of the Sargassian royal line, was no more.

Ashlyn pulled the body aside. She was fortunate that there was less blood than with a regular corpse. She began unbuckling fastenings.

"What are you doing?" asked Vixen.

"It's my armour."