B4 – Chapter 49: Assault on Saumur

The call to action came hours later. Tristan’s bangle vibrated, and he spun his crucible as he activated the artificed platinum ear-cuff. “Yes?”

The Matriarch’s voice came through. “Krik has received word from the diplomats and fairy dragon assassins in the Demon Realm – Duberceix’s troops have left the capital and Mericlau territory to deal with the uprising. Some forces are being diverted to our army. Your opportunity is here.”

Tristan got off of the cushion atop the top boughs and kicked the cushion Felicity was sleeping on, jostling her slightly to wake up. “We are heading out now.” Tristan both-direction spun his crucible and spoke with the voice of the realm. “Fey Realm Strike Force! Assemble before the Queen’s Wood!” He manifested his wings and glided down to where his strike force assembled.

Zeltana’s voice spoke in his mind. Good luck. Go avenge my bloodline.

“I will,” Tristan whispered. He felt the thud of Felicity’s armored form plopping onto his head and winced slightly as her metallic claws dug into his scalp. “Felicity, mind not making little biscuits? I swear you’re drawing blood.”

“Oops!” She sounded mortified. “Sorry. Force of habit!” She giggled. “The little streaks of blood make you look intimidating.”

“I’ll have my helmet up,” Tristan replied. He drew his sword in one hand, dagger in the other, and joined the front of the FRSF, standing next to Willow. “Ready?”

Willow nodded. “This one is prepared to avenge the deaths of your kin.”

Grandfather Hurvun waved at Tristan from the side, and Tristan held up his hand for Willow to pause her spell. He went over to his grandfather, who spoke with a soft, sincere tone. “My son . . . you come back, you hear?”

Tristan reversed his grip on his dagger and used that arm to hug his grandfather. “I’ll come back. I have an immortal life to look forward to. Plus, my nephew or niece.” He pulled back and his grandfather’s eyes were a little moist. “Come on, grandfather. Don’t tear up like that.”

“Yeah. Otherwise I’ll have to teach Rory’s kid how to scare you just as good as I do!” Felicity added.

Hurvun chuckled. “Stay safe. Well, as safe as you can.”

Tristan pulled away and joined Willow. He felt no sense of fear or danger. What settled in his gut was resolve. A firm resolve. This is what he had been building towards, had spent seasons working to achieve. “Go, Willow.” Normally, realmwalking would open up a rift at the edge of a realm. But, The Citadel inside Betty’s master book that Tristan copied had the exact spell that was used to travel to Saumur’s assigned Citadel marker. Right in the center of the capital.

She performed a complicated gesture with her hands, delicate fingers dancing through the air, and chanted in Elvish. A rip in reality opened up, and Tristan spun his crucible as he activated all of the spells stored in his armor: Scales of our foe, all of the Aspect of the dragon spells, Good Luck, Lucky Instinct, Armor of Ice, and Near Miss. He activated Elemental Imbuement – Multi on his sword with a focus on ice and lightning, and his dagger with fire and lightning. “For the Fey Realm!” he shouted as he led the charge in to the red-sky Demon Realm.

Breaching the rift, he emerged in the city square where the Citadel’s rift normally opened. Demonkin, Quasits, and Imps who were going about their business began to panic and flee. The FRSF followed him down the main boulevard toward the massive, black fortification in the distance, and the rest of his volunteer force spread out while a small group held the rift and fortified it. Glancing back, he even saw gnomes in the mix near the rift, using their earth elementalism to raise a wall and towers within seconds.

He turned his attention to the front and saw a small squad of Demon Realm soldiers. Most likely Demonkin, given their height, and probably a small patrol. They did not seem to expect a heavily armed force and began to scrabble toward an alleyway. Tristan and his group bolted past them, running for the citadel.

Only the assassins, he thought. And those directly defending Duberceix. We aren’t here to cause excess casualties. Those words had been reinforced to his strike force over and over as they practiced. He did not want those deaths on his consciousness. And, thankfully, people responding how he expected. The capital was not under threat of assault from the uprising happening off in the farther regions, and an invasion from another realm would only occur on the edge of the realm itself. And it was inconceivable that The Citadel, an apolitical and unaligned realm, would give the means to another realm to use their dedicated realmwalking spell that was specially formulated for this location.

In fact, Tristan doubted that the Headmaster knew that he would use this spell. Nor did Tristan care. It was the perfect means of entry, and his force reached the Blackspire within minutes of their initial arrival. The massive, black citadel was a broad construction that, if viewed from above, looked like a giant cross, with a delicate swooping slope that led to the massive pillar that rose high into the skies.

There were demon guards on the steps, and they quickly formed a defensive line. Tristan let out a war cry as he bounded up the steps; empowered not just by the trial of the sap, but his draconic might from the spells coursing through his body, the essence pounding along with his heart. He obliterated the first demon guard with a rapid swipe of his elongated, Dragon’s Doom empowered sword, and then bucked his hips as he turned, slamming the phantasmal dragon tail into the two on his left.

Eloise sprinted up to one of the foes on the right, and set upon him with daggers, quickly joined by two fairy dragons who overwhelmed the demon and stabbed ruthlessly until the figure stilled.

Felicity flew past Tristan, invisible to all except him and the other Fey Realm residents, on her mission to track down Duberceix. Once she found him, she would get Tristan and guide him to the foe, while his FRSF focused on scouring the citadel for the assassins and slaughtering them.

Tristan turned to confront the next demon guard, but the rest of his strike force reached him and slaughtered the guards. “All right! You know your groups! Move out!” He led the charge up the steps to the now-closing doors. They shut just before he reached them, and he skidded to a stop as he spun. His enormous, phantasmal tail slammed into the fortified door, exploding it inward as screams and shouts of panic and alarm resonated through the citadel.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Willow was right next to him, a silent shadow that seemed to stick to his left flank. Eloise was on his right – both would stay with him, as a unicorn followed behind just in case of emergency. Tristan made a beeline for the throne room, or what he imagined was the throne room. Another demon guard stood before him and met a brutal end as Tristan simply stabbed the man through the gap between neck and helmet, wrenching his blade loose and nearly decapitating the figure from the sheer power of his motion.

Reaching the doors to what would be the throne room, he saw Felicity. She was flapping in front of them, face morphed into a look of concern. “I can’t transmute it!” she shouted.

Tristan frowned and sheathed his sword and dagger. He reached down to the small of his back, where he had put the new and improved maul. Pulling the handle out, he shouted. “Stay clear!” As everyone moved away, he brought the weapon forth with all of the force he could muster. The doors buckled, and shouts of ordered troops echoed from within the room. Tristan let out another scream of rage as he swung again, denting the doors even further. With a final, mighty blow, he blew the doors inward and was met by a hail of fire elementalism spells, the familiar pressure of enchantment spells, and even the sickly purple of hexes. He shrugged off all of them, walking forward with confident stride as he drew his sword and choked up his grip on the maul; igniting both with Elemental Imbuement – Multi. Ice and lightning on the sword, fire and lightning on the maul.

The throne room was exactly like the one in Bhant, and Tristan grinned under his helm as he knew his instinct was correct – Bhant had indeed duplicated a smaller version of the Blackspire. This throne room was easily tripe the size of King Arinclex’s throne room. Corridors moved off in all directions, and a large group of demons were flinging spells at Tristan. Even stacking multiple fire elementalism burn effects that he could feel just barely tingling, before they ignited and erupted.

It was a minor nuisance. Tristan shouted in flawless Demon’s Tongue. “I am here for the Demon King! Death has come for him!” He charged the front line, meeting the interlocked shields and blasting demons back with his mighty maul swings, before following up with rapid slashes from his sword that put down the foes. Spinning with the force of his blow, his phantasmal tail bowled over another group of the front line. Yet more spells fell upon him, and he completely ignored them, as his sheer, unbridled fury surged forth and he smote with sword, hammer, and tail.

Eloise shouted from somewhere behind him. “He’s not here!”