Book 2: Chapter 87: Full-blown Assault

Book 2: Chapter 87: Full-blown Assault

Augustus Reginald Gormona, ruler of every tree, stone, and building below him, gazed out over his kingdom. He stood atop a balcony in the highest spire of the castle, leaning on an ornate metal railing and letting the winter air wash away his troubles.

“It’s a beautiful night, Augustus,” Deklan said, leaning against the rail beside him, his metal armor clinking.

“Isn’t it? There are few things that calm my nerves so.”

Though he usually found solace in the heat of a bath, the scene before him was almost as relaxing. Even the peasants’ quarter was picturesque of an evening, the dirty streets made appealing by the warm firelight cast down by myriad lanterns. Augustus took a deep breath, focusing on the cold air tickling his nose. With each passing day over the last few months, his troubles only grew worse. It had reached a point where he no longer looked at the relics, their data too much for him to handle. He would be warned if another spirit beast ascended, of course—that it hadn’t occurred in days was a blessing of the highest order.

After ignoring the constant stream of advancements over the last couple of days, he’d questioned just how much of a threat these spirit beasts really posed. They were advancing fast, sure, but levels were mostly in trade skills: baking, tailoring, blacksmithing, woodworking, and fishing, of all things. They were hardly advancements worth losing sleep over.

I am safe, he reminded himself.

The city’s guards defended the castle, Aisa and her sisters watched the streets, and dozens of cultivators were defending the city’s wealth, ready to strike should someone be foolish enough to try to steal it.

“I need to thank you, Deklan,” Augustus said, feeling at peace.

“Oh? Why’s that, king?”

“Augustus,” he corrected.

“My bad.” Deklan gave him a wide grin. “Hard to break old habits. Why’s that, Augustus?”

“Because you were right. Constantly being told of the advancements was a blight on my consciousness. A black cloud that only served to hamper my judgment. The days since I stopped checking that dread screen have been a breath of fresh air.”

“You’re welcome, Augustus.” Deklan nodded at him, then looked out at the horizon. “You’re a good man, but even the best of us need a reminder sometimes.”

This strange guard—a man that seemed to be immune to the weight of kings, queens and crowns—would have frustrated Augustus to no end mere months ago. Now, though, Augustus found himself feeling an inordinate amount of gratitude for the atypical guardsman. He was common born, the lowest of the low, and yet he seemed to possess such gravitas, such wisdom.

“You know, Deklan, in another life I’d have loved to wed you to my daughter. I’m ashamed to admit that your lowborn status prevents such a pairing, but—”

Deklan blew air from his lips. “No offense, kin—er—Augustus, but your daughter is a terror.”

Augustus slowly turned, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Deklan? We are close, yes, but please mind your ton—”

“Hey...” Deklan interrupted. “What’s that?”

“Deklan,” Augustus chastised, his voice firm. “I like you, and I’d hate to have you chained. I request, nay, demand that you appolo—”

“No, really,” Deklan repeated, squinting into the night. “What in Neptune's veiny member is that?”

His face scrunching at the curse, Augustus felt his gratitude for this guard diminish. “Deklan, I think you should return to the artifact—”

“Augustus!” Deklan’s eyes turned to the king, finally showing the proper level of respect for his betters.

What the king saw in the peasant’s eyes was enough to bring his fury to a standstill. The usually lackadaisical man was serious, his eyes narrowed and mouth forming a line.

“This conversation isn’t over, Deklan, but what are you...” Augustus blinked, coming face to face with a field of white. “B...b...b...” His tongue became leaden, his mouth unable to form the words.

“Birds.” Deklan finished. “That’s a lot of birds, though.”

A swarm of seagulls, thick enough to block out the stars, flew over the capital's walls. High above them, a larger shape beat wide wings. It unleashed a honk that physically struck the king, making his royal robes flutter.

“A flock... an entire... flock...” His words was sluggish, like an entire pastry obstructed them.

“Oh!” Deklan snapped his fingers in understanding. “That’s An Entire Flock of birds! Like from the artifact, right?”

“Sound the alarm!” King Augsutus Reginald Gormona yelled, whirling on the spot.

Panicked as he was, his feet got tangled beneath him. He tumbled headfirst into a stone wall, knocking himself unconscious.

***

Corporal Claws, pusher carts and fastest in all the land, tore through the streets like her chompers tore through fish.

“Obey my orders, scum!” the handler ordered.

Well, that was just rude. Her master would never treat his followers so.

“We are obeying orders!” the bearded cultivator spat back. “The king ordered you to hold this square! His authority outshin—”

“Look out!” another cultivator yelled, his blue eyes wide as Cinnamon’s payload dropped toward their heads.

She waved a greeting his way, grinning beneath her armor.

They all looked up, saw the payload about to strike their heads, and dashed back instinctively. Just in time, too, because Cinnamon and her mount struck the place where they’d been standing. As she had expected, the payload had been engineered flawlessly; its sides split apart, each panel flung outward when the bottom plate hit the cobbled street. As such, the impact did not harm the thousands of beetles within. They flowed out like a black, spiky liquid, engulfing the street. Cinnamon found their writhing bodies around her feet disgusting, but it was a small price to pay for such a dramatic entrance.

The bearded man that had been fighting the handler recovered first. He stared at the bugs, then at Cinnamon, his eyes going wide.

“The... The Beetle Boys!”

Cinnamon let out her best beetle scree, confirming his assertion. She held her beetle-armored forepaws high to the sky, making the pose Claws had shown her. The humans were frozen, captivated by her grace, her ferocity. Ellis had called the bugs ‘elephant beetles’, and as they stopped flowing outward, they started taking flight. The air became alive, and with her enhanced awareness, Cinnamon watched the face of every single human surrounding her change.

It. Was. Beautiful.

Power swelled, hands extended, and abilities flew, but Cinnamon was faster. In the blink of an eye, she slammed into each cultivator, lashing out with a headbutt, a roundhouse kick—Bill was right; that one was fun—a left jab, and a body slam, knocking all four of them out cold. She came to a stop before the handler, gazing up imperiously at her foe. Annoyingly, the handler was looking toward the sky, her eyes perusing the seagulls currently blocking out the moon.

“An Entire Flock of Birds,” the handler mumbled, dropping to her knees. Her eyes drifted down to Cinnamon. “Please. Spare me...”

In response, Cinnamon patted her on the cheek. The handler licked her lips, hope dawning in her eyes.

“You’ll.. you’ll let me go?”

Cinnamon snorted. Frack no. She backhanded the woman, sending her sprawling to the ground in a lifeless pile. Cinnamon stared down at her armored paw—Bill was right about that move, too. Slapping people was fun.

She set about gathering the cultivators, making sure she didn’t step on any beetles; the spiky little creatures had served her well, and she was proud of not letting a single insect fall to the cultivators’ attacks.

***

“You look fracking ridiculous, Ellis,” Theo laughed.

“Your thoughts are of little matter,” Ellis said, adjusting his armor. “My ego is nothing before the mission.”

“Booo!” Danny drawled, giving a thumbs down. “At least fight back—I need some entertainment.”

“How much longer?” Peter asked, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve been cooped up in here for days. I’m getting desperate for some proper food.”

Barry nodded. “It can’t be too long now. We just have to wait for Borks to let us out.”

Sergeant Snips was sitting between Pistachio and Rocky off to one corner, hissing orders at the latter, who nodded with only a little annoyance. Before she could finish, the portal into Bork’s pocket dimension opened, letting fresh air flow into the space.

“Yes!” Danny yelled, jumping to his feet.

Borks poked his head in, letting out a loud bark before retracting it.

“Okay,” Barry said. “Everyone ready?”

Every face turned toward him. The fishing club—minus Keith, who was back in Tropica with Trent—were the first to nod. Next, the woodworkers, standing and stretching as they gave him their assent. The two smiths, who locked arms with each other, shook, then nodded at Barry. Finally, Fischer’s creatures. Barry knelt down so they were eye to eye-stalk. “Pistachio, Snips—you know the drill.”

They nodded, both blowing serious bubbles.

“And Rocky... please don’t blow anything up. This is a delicate mission.”

He scowled back at Barry, but Snips petted Rocky’s carapace, nodding at Barry that Rocky would behave himself.

Content, he stood back up, casting his gaze around the room. “In that case, I officially call for the commencement of Operation Sticky Fingers!”

They whooped and hollered, letting out their nervous energy before leaving the dimensional space. One after the other, they ran through the portal, entering the capital city of Gormona.