Gone was the hustle and bustle of the city, with its massive crowds, thousands of vendors and markets, its swirling smells and restless energy. This place was tranquility incarnate. Meticulously sculpted gardens were filled with tame, colorful birds of all kinds, and crystal-clear water flowed through streams and plunged down little manmade cascades into ponds full of white and orange coy fish. Shrubs and trees, trimmed into pleasing shapes by master artists, created a sense of balance and serenity. Sand and stone gardens, spanned by ornamental wooden bridges, had intricate patterns raked in the sand, patterns one could contemplate for hours. Colorful pavilions stood here and there, and I imagined in better times they’d be filled with gorgeous concubines entertaining the Emperor and his guests.
Hell, this was the kind of place I could live in when all my questing was over. I banked the thought for the future.
We walked through the deserted gardens and reached the entrance to one of the largest palace buildings. Two massive wooden doors, painted red with ornate gold fittings, barred our way. There were no guards stationed by the doors, oddly enough, so I walked up to one, feeling like a mouse must feel when approaching a human-sized door, and bashed on it with my fist a few times. The sound produced was a deep, booming echo, and it resounded through the chamber beyond. We waited a while, but there was no response. I hammered on the door again, and still nobody came.
I turned to the others. “Do you think my Plague Fists could punch through this wood?”
Before they could answer, there was a great creak behind me. When I turned back around, I saw a massive Yengish warrior, still dwarfed by the simple fact of standing in that doorway. His armor was similar to the style of the other Yengish soldiers, but it was far more elaborate and ornate. The red breastplate was fashioned into the snarling face of a saber-toothed panther, his red shoulder pauldrons like huge steel panther paws with claws bared. He had removed his helmet, which was also styled to look like the face of a panther. His long hair was unlike most Yengish soldiers, having been neither cut nor styles. The flowing strands were more gray than black, as were his long mustaches. His broad, brutish face was lined with both scars and wrinkles. He was built far more like a northern barbarian than a Yengishman, and was obviously a warrior of great prowess and important rank.
“Who are you, and how did you get in here?” he growled in the Common Tongue. “Speak quickly, scum, or I’ll cut you foreign peasants and those filthy beasts to shreds.”
Yumo and Anna-Lucielle tried to employ their “traveling circus invited by the Emperor” tactic on the man, but he seemed to be Fated, and resisted both the Beauty Mirror and Anna-Lucielle’s Charm magic.
“That’s a steaming pile of mogwai shit.” From a sheath on his back, he drew a curved exotic sword the size of a claymore. He inhaled through his mouth and exhaled through his nostrils, a cloud of steam pouring from both orifices. The gigantic curved blade glowed a deep crimson, and tongues of flame ignited along its gleaming edge.
A Fated soldier with an enchanted weapon. Well, this would be interesting.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stepped forward and pulled a cord on my colorful entertainer’s robes. The garments fell from my body, and I now stood before the huge warrior in my assassin’s armor. In a flash, Grave Oath was in my left hand and my kusarigama in my right.
“If you value your life, you’ll sheath that sword and stop threatening my friends,” I said. “I am Lord Vance Chauzec of Brakith, and I also happen to be the God of Death. I’ve come to see the Glorious Emperor of Yeng about a very important matter—a matter that concerns the Warlock who’s been ravaging this land. I can stop him, I promise you that, but I need a little help from the Emperor. Surely this is enough to warrant an audience with him.”
“The only thing greater than your arrogance, puny god, is your stupidity.” The swordsman snarled, then stepped back and shoved the door. Before he could push it shut, I slammed my elbow into it, and then it was a battle of strength.
The rest of my party joined me, and we all pushed to keep the door open. Surprisingly, the swordsman managed to prevent us from opening it more than a few inches further.
“One last chance,” I said as I summoned Death Magic into my leather gauntlets for the Plague Fist skill. “You can let us in and do this the easy way, or you can continue being a really unhelpful asshole and do things the hard way. Trust me, you’re not gonna like the hard way.”
To my surprise, the warrior chose the easy way. From the scowl he gave us as the door opened fully again, I suspected that he’d been commanded by someone above his rank to let us in. Which meant we were likely to encounter a trap, or an entire band of Fated warriors rather than a single, albeit gigantic, Fated swordsman.
“Fine, god of fools,” he said. “Enter the Forbidden Palace with your ragged band of brigands and beasts, but do not expect a warm welcome from the Glorious Emperor. Many others have been tortured and executed for far less. The consequences will be dire.”
He stepped back, allowing us to enter.
“I assure you,” I said as I smiled at him, “if anyone’s head is going to be separated from their shoulders anytime soon, it’ll be yours.”
He laughed humorlessly, glaring at me with a jagged gaze.
“Watch your backs,” I said to my friends as I paused at the doorway.
“That might be a bit hard for those guys,” Yumo said as she jerked her finger to the monks.
“Ji-Ko and friends,” I said, “keep your ears peeled.” I smiled at Yumo. “That better?”
She scoffed but smiled right back. Hell, I was
