They departed the Night Eagle early in the morning hours, still wrapped in the common groggy haze that came with an inadequate night’s sleep. After walking a few blocks north they came across the road out of the city, right where Pat had said it would be. The road continued for a few clicks before the gates of the palace became clearly visible. Thousands of torches illuminated the massive stone castle, the hundreds of windows glowing brightly from its interior.

A group of four guards stood by the front gate, although only two of them stood by their expected posts—the other two standing quite causally in front of the gate. A small bit of a beard had shown through the open chin portion of the helmet on one of them. “Well, look who finally decided to show up!” he scolded in Wesley’s voice.

“It’s barely fifteen past seven,” Aurora replied in a sleepy tone.

“I said early, didn’t I?” the soldier replied.

“Lay off, Wesley,” the soldier next to him commented in the same Far Western accent. “The queen doesn’t even make her way to the audience chamber until eight.”

The other soldier carefully removed his helmet. Underneath the metal was shortly cropped, light-brown hair—atop a face as pale as Wesley’s, punctuated by a pair of green eyes and errant five-o’clock shadow. “Captain Carter. Nice to make your acquaintance,” he said.

The other two soldiers stood silently at their posts, not getting involved in the interaction. “You’re from the east, too?” Venice asked.

Carter smirked. “It’s that obvious, is it?” he replied. “Yes, I’m from the east. Wesley and I traveled together for a good few years before we ended up here. It’s a pretty long story.”

Wesley elbowed Carter in the side. “One that can wait for a later date.”

“Right, right.” Carter put his helmet back on. “So, Wesley tells me you kids want an audience with the queen?”

Venice nodded. “That would be nice.”

The captain turned toward the gate, taking a key hanging from a ring on his hip and unlocking it. “Well, it’s perfectly doable, even if it’s unscheduled,” he explained. “We just need an ‘in’ to make it so she’d want to see you.”

“An ‘in’?” the carpenter echoed in confusion.

“Something that makes you interesting, compared to all the people who normally try to get an audience with her,” Wesley said.

Carter pushed the gates open and motioned with his hand for the group to follow him. “Would either one of you happen to be a performer?” the captain asked. “She tends to like entertainers.”

They began their walk through the brightly torch-lit courtyard. “I play a lute. Somewhat well at that,” Aurora commented bashfully.

“It’s either that or the talking dog and rooster,” Wesley quipped.

Lola and Rook looked up at the solider as they walked along behind him and the captain. “You know she’s not fond of animals, don’t even joke about that,” Carter scolded. “We may not even be able to get them into the audience chamber without her complaining.”

The two guards led them past the courtyard through a back entrance to the castle.

“So, she doesn’t like animals?” Venice asked.

Wesley snickered. “Not unless they’re on her dinner plate.”

The lights grew dimmer as they traveled through a narrow hallway into what appeared to be a dormitory. Several supply racks lined the walls, a barracks visible from the entrance area.

“She doesn’t let you bring in guests through the front door, either?” Aurora asked.

Carter and Wesley both turned their heads toward her and burst out laughing. “We’re lucky she lets anyone in the castle!” Wesley cackled. “If there weren’t an immediate need for a guard, we’d be sleeping outside!”

“Wow, she sounds like the likeable sort of ruler. No wonder the people of Prithvi love her so much,” Lola mumbled snarkily.

“There’s a reason we all call her the Wicked Witch when we’re not on the clock,” Carter responded. “Just keep a lid on it when we’re in her presence. She’s almost as temperamental as that overfed brat of hers.”

The captain walked past the weapons rack toward a stairwell entrance. “Also, keep that talking livestock schtick under your hats,” he noted. “The only thing she dislikes more than animals are animals that can talk back.”

Wesley walked behind him. “That poor parrot … hadn’t even done anything to provoke her,” the soldier muttered.

Lola and Rook shuddered at the remark, almost in unison. They followed the two soldiers up the stairwell, Venice and Aurora not far behind them.

“How do you keep this place lit so well?” Venice asked.

Wesley glanced back as they continued up the stairs. “The lamps inside are all connected to a natural gas flow that runs under the castle. If we didn’t keep them burning all the time, the gas build up would stand as a serious risk to the castle’s structure. The pressure would cause the foundation to burst.”

“I figured this castle was full of hot air, but now it just sounds poorly planned and built,” Lola remarked.

Carter and Wesley both chuckled. “This dog’s got a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” the captain commented. “If it’s worth noting, the natural gas build up wasn’t discovered until a few decades after the castle was built back in the days of the Azure Dahlia dynasty.”

“So, poor long-term planning?” the Buhund put forth.

“Basically,” Carter replied.

The stairwell gave way to an expansive corridor, decorated with bright floral tapestries and dried foliage. An eerie silence hung in the hallway as they continued to the east end of the castle. From time to time, they would pass an inconsequential doorway or two; each of them left unguarded. Larger doorways—such as those leading to the royal library or depository—were each guarded by a silent pair of soldiers.

“These guys are lively,” Lola commented as they passed a pair in front of the doorway to what appeared to be a large dining hall.

“Her majesty believes the guard should be seen and not heard,” Wesley said. “We can’t get fired for it, but she’ll see to it that your pay and rations get docked if she catches you.”

“If that’s the case, then why are you talking?” Rook pried.

“I rightfully don’t care,” the soldier responded. “Besides, being a long-time friend of the Captain of the Guard has its advantages.”

Carter groaned. “Don’t gloat about it out loud, you dolt. The last thing I want is to be chewed out by her this morning.”

As they continued along a pungent scent overwhelmed Lola’s senses, causing her to gag loudly. Everyone in the group glanced back at her while they proceeded along.

“Are you all right, Lola?” Aurora asked.

The Buhund coughed. “I’m fine, it’s just that something around here smells … terrible,” she responded. “Like, so bad that it’s making my sinuses hurt.”

“That’s odd. I don’t smell anything,” the lutenist commented. “Do you guys smell anything?”

“Other than old limestone? I smell nothing,” Venice answered. “What exactly do you smell?”

Lola grumbled to herself. “It smells exactly how copper tastes,” the dog replied in an annoyed tone.

There was a brief silence from the entire group. “How on Lumea would you know how copper tastes?” Carter questioned.

“Someone used to make me retrieve pieces of copper from his scrap pile for various projects when he was too busy to leave his workbench,” the Buhund said as she shot a glance at Venice. “It didn’t occur to him for about a year that dogs severely hate picking up metal with their mouths, mostly because it tastes horrific …”

“I apologized to you for that, even before you could talk,” the fiery-haired carpenter defended. “Honestly, Lola, sometimes I could swear I’ve eaten old dandelion roots that were less bitter than you.”

“Forgive me for being annoyed that I’m being subjected to a stink that’s almost literally burning the inside of my nose,” she retorted.

“You’ll have to tough it out for a bit. We’re almost to her audience chamber, so nix the chatter,” Carter advised. “Let us introduce you and do not speak unless spoken to. She’s a real stickler about that.”

A tall doorway was visible a short distance down the hall—two armed soldiers stood guard outside of it, each with a halberd in hand. The two guards crossed their spears over the doorway as the group came closer. “At ease, boys,” Carter commanded. “These kids have an audience with her majesty.”

The guards stepped aside, repositioning their weapons to their sides. “You could use a better pronoun, Cap’n. Sergeant Rince and I are almost into our early thirties,” one of them grumbled as the captain pushed the massive door open.

“Duly noted, compadre,” he replied, patting the soldier on the back.

As the doorway opened, a glow of bright lamplight flooded through. The interior of the audience chamber was not as large as Lola had anticipated, although she was certain it was as large as the entirety of Venice’s old cabin. Deep red tapestries and banners covered the stonewalls, embroidered with golden thread, and lined with gilded tassels. In the center of the chamber sat a single throne decorated in a similar fashion to the wall decorum, its wooden frame painted in gold and its cushions made from crimson silk velvet.

Upon the throne sat a woman, youthful in appearance. Given simple logic, she had to be well into middle age, yet she looked as if she had yet to age past her twenties. Long blonde hair worked into three long braids that fell behind her head noticeably spilled over the arms of the throne. She was dressed in a burgundy-colored gown that came up to her collarbone, framed by a furred rim that left her shoulders exposed. An opal green shawl hung from around her neck, its loose ends running down the front of her dress. Her crystalline-blue eyes scanned through a book in her hands as she paid no mind to Lola and her friends’ arrival.

Carter leaned over to Aurora. “What are your names? I’ve got to announce you. Otherwise, she’ll keep ignoring us.”

“You should’ve asked before,” the lutenist replied in a whisper. “I’m Aurora Song. He’s Venice—”

“Venice D’Fiamma,” Venice interrupted, also in a whisper. “And the a-animals,” he stuttered in half-whisper, “the Buhund is Hikaru Lola, and the rooster is Corvido Rook.”

Carter scrunched up his mouth in confusion. “Just needed you and the lutenist, but thanks.”

Lola looked up at him. “Who are you to make up surnames for us?” she grumbled, hushed enough for only Venice to hear her.

The Buhund, joined by the rooster, glared up at the carpenter. He stood and whistled nonchalantly as Captain Carter approached the throne. He turned and signaled silently for everyone to bow—everyone taking his cue, despite taking a few seconds to realize what he meant by pointing to the ground. With everyone in proper position, the captain bowed himself. “Your majesty, I bring you visitors,” he said to her as monotone as he could. “This is Aurora Song, a lutenist from the South who has come to play for you. And her guardian, Venice D’Fiamma.”

The queen moved a ribbon hanging from her book between the pages she had opened and closed it. She looked up from her lap, examining Lola and her friends. Her heavy eyeliner made her eyes appear quite fierce and unforgiving … although Lola was certain she’d look just as fierce without it. Her blood-red lips frowned as her blue eyes rolled in annoyance. “As much as I enjoy musical performances, Captain, I’ve expressed to you before how I feel about allowing peasants to bring their livestock into the audience chamber,” she complained.

“We can wait outside,” Venice whispered to Wesley.

“Does the peasant have something to say, Lieutenant Wesley?” the queen snapped.

Wesley straightened up, unnerved by her. “Mr. D’Fiamma says that he’d be willing to wait outside with Ms. Hikaru and Mr. Corvido,” the soldier replied.

Carter lowered his face into the palm of his hand in embarrassment. “She doesn’t need to know the animals’ names …”

She looked unenthusiastic. “I’ll assume you’re referring to the chicken and the mutt,” the queen responded. “Fine then. Take them outside.”

Wesley quickly turned about face and ushered Venice and the animals out of the audience chamber. As they were rushed out of the room, Lola caught Aurora’s glance. “Look around quickly. I’ll keep her occupied,” the girl whispered before the doorway slammed shut.

“What a bigot,” Lola said angrily.

“Did that dog just talk?” one of the audience chamber guards asked.

“Get stuffed, Spencer. You know dogs can’t talk,” Wesley retorted as he continued ushering the dog, carpenter, and rooster down the hallway.

“Y’ must’ve eaten some bad sausages, Spence,” the other guard said as the group departed.

They continued walking until the guards were out of earshot. “So, what’s next with this plan of yours?” Wesley asked.

Venice shrugged. “I was fairly confident things would piece themselves together if we got inside the castle. I haven’t got a clue what to do next.”

His train of thought was interrupted by Lola sneezing loudly. “Ugh. That smell is getting stronger,” she complained.

“Maybe that’s a clue?” Rook suggested. “An odd smell that only Lola can pick up? Seems suspicious to me.”

“Either that or it’s a sign of my crazy dog further losing her mind,” Venice grumbled. “What direction is the scent coming from?”

The Buhund attempted to sniff through the air again, causing her to sneeze even harder than before. Grimacing, she shook out her ears. “The air flow tells me it’s coming from the west, in the opposite direction.”

Venice turned to Wesley. “Anything particular in that direction?” the carpenter inquired.

“Just a few spare rooms and the old ballroom. The queen doesn’t happen to use them, and the ballroom was closed off shortly before the king passed a few years ago,” he replied. “You wager it’s worth having a look?”

Venice glanced down at Lola. “May as well start somewhere?” he inquired.

“If my nose doesn’t burn right off my face,” Lola muttered in reply shortly before letting out another sneeze.

“We’ll have to turn around and go back the other way,” Wesley instructed. “Follow me.”

They followed the soldier’s instructions and complied with his change of direction. The two audience chamber guards paid them no mind as they passed by the giant doorway yet again, as Wesley confidently led them deeper into the castle’s west wing. Weeks, or perhaps even months’ worth of dust clung to the worn cobblestone walls—growing somewhat thicker as they carried on farther.

A few long, untouched doors passed on either side during their descent into the near-abandoned wing of the castle. Lola noticed that the unpleasant, metallic scent grew stronger the deeper in they went. She winced involuntarily as the unnatural stench grew thicker, feeling as if bales of copper wire had been shoved directly into her nostrils.

“The gas lamps seem to be a touch dimmer down here, don’t they?” Venice pointed out.

“They’ve turned down the gas flow to them. Not much use fully-lighting a section of the castle we never use,” Wesley replied.

The metal stench grew to its most intense as a double door fastened closed by a large, polished yellow padlock came into view. “That door! It’s coming from that door!” Lola exclaimed, before gagging loudly.

Venice and Wesley approached the door while the young dog stood wheezing and gagging behind them. The carpenter kneeled in front of the double door, examining the padlock closely. “It looks like it’s made from brass. That’s unusual,” he muttered.

“Why’s that?” Wesley asked.

“Brass is a rather soft metal. Not exactly the best material to make a lock out of,” Venice answered.

He took a small whittling knife out of his pocket and attempted to scratch the padlock’s exterior metal—the blade left no mark in it. “Well, it’s not brass.”

Lola sneezed again. “Then what is the blasted thing made of?”

Rook fluttered up onto Venice’s shoulder. “Mayhaps I should have a look?” the cockerel suggested. “I’ve been around numerous farmers, all of which had a fondness for locks.”

He leaned down toward the padlock from his perch atop the carpenter’s shoulder, touching his beak to the keyhole. A sudden flurry of sparks sent him flying across the hall in a trail of sienna-brown feathers. Dust shook loose from the stonewall across from the doorway as he collided with it.

“Are you all right?” Venice called after him.

“I’m fine. Just a little shaken up,” Rook replied, weakly.

Lola, in the midst of such chaos, happened to look up at the door. The padlock had become a very flat shade of grey, rather than its original polished yellow. “The lock’s changed!” she exclaimed.

Venice looked back down at the padlock in bewilderment. “It’s just galvanized iron. It must’ve been enchanted,” he commented.

“Enchanted locks are hard to come by. I wonder what’s so important in there that she’s got to take such heavy precautions,” Wesley added.

Venice retrieved a thin carving pick from his pocket and inserted it into the padlock’s keyhole. “Let’s find out. Lucky for us, without the enchantment it’s just a simple lever lock.”

Lola sniffed the air around her as the carpenter fiddled with the padlock. The metallic scent was gone. “That stink is gone,” she uttered.

Rook got to his feet. “Maybe it was the enchantment on the lock?”

“A dog that can smell magic?” Wesley chuckled. “It was ridiculous enough when you could talk.”

The padlock came undone, its shackle releasing its grip on the set of double doors as it fell to the floor.

“Here’s the big moment. Let’s see what she has locked up in here.” Venice turned the door handles and pushed the entryway open.

An overwhelming light spilled forth as the doors gave way, blinding everyone present. As Lola’s eyesight adjusted to the excess light, the contents of the closed off room became abundantly clear. What was once a ballroom was now host to a large indoor garden of numerous fruit-bearing plants. All of them seemed remarkably healthy, although there were far too many in the former ballroom to count at first glance.

On differing ends of the ballroom stood three enormous locks, each of them connected to a network of chains that rose toward the room’s high ceiling. Entangled within them were a ball of blazing golden flames, a glowing sphere of silver stone, and a bunched up cluster of thousands of tiny, luminous spheres. Although she had only heard mere descriptions of them in her short life, she knew exactly what they were. “Grandmother was right!” Lola exclaimed.

Venice and Wesley stood silent in awe at the sight of the captured celestial bodies. The soldier removed his helmet, overwhelming anger welling up in his eyes. “I always knew she was rotten, but this is just too much,” he growled.

“Stow your anger. We’ve got to figure out a way to free them before she figures out we’ve found it,” Venice advised as he stepped into the room.

Lola followed him in, sniffing around the room as she did. “You certainly are a rude bunch of guests, aren’t you?” a familiar female voice called from behind them.

The queen stood in the doorway, the whole of the Royal Guard crowded in behind her. Among the clutter of soldiers, Aurora stood with her hands bound by prison shackles. The lutenist looked to her friends regretfully, not daring to say a word. “It’s pretty clichéd bluff to have a musician distract someone while you attempt to burgle their home,” the monarch said spitefully. “And you, Wesley. You were such a loyal soldier. I doubt you can even comprehend how disappointed I am in you.”

The soldier threw his helmet to the ground. “Who are you to talk about loyalty, you overfed, overgrown brat?” he said angrily. “The entire world outside is dying because of you! It’s because of you that Aerthica fell to ruin! It’s because of you that Carter and I lost our country!”

The troop of soldiers looked up at the ceiling. “You see it, don’t you?” Venice asked, trying to persuade the present guards. “She’s been keeping the sun, the moon, and the stars sealed in this room all this time!”

“What I do is of no concern to my guard,” the queen responded coldly. “Their only duty is to serve me and that’s it!”

A soldier beside her put his hand on her shoulder. It was Carter. “With a sincere lack of respect, miss,” he said in a firm tone. “I think we have no more duty to you.”

The queen turned to him, a fierce scowl upon her face. “You’re a fool if you’re thinking you can’t be replaced with someone more loyal, you unshaven cockroach,” she snarled.

Annoyed, the monarch looked across the collective guard. “I’ve grown tired of your incompetence,” the queen said. “You’re fired!”

The soldiers burst out laughing.

“You can’t fight us, your Majesty,” Carter said. “This ends here and there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

“Once again,” the queen replied, “human incompetence.”

She raised her hand above her head and snapped her fingers, the sound echoing through the room. Masses of chains materialized from beneath the floor, weaving themselves tightly into solid forms. Almost quicker than the eye could follow, the phantom chains had woven themselves into a number of hulking, humanoid creatures. The beings clattered as they moved, stretching their mock-limbs as if awakening from a long sleep. Upon the place where a head would normally sit, a slit opened in the chains-weave to reveal a pair of glowing red eyes within. “Finally, after so many years without them, I have the opportunity to call back my dear Iron Fiends,” the queen uttered in delight. “Seize them, you layabouts! Seize every last one of them!”

The towering metal ghouls surrounded all those in attendance with otherworldly swiftness. Their arms unraveled into bonds that entangled and restrained everyone present before anyone could even twitch in reaction to their presence. Lola found herself hoisted into the air alongside Venice and Rook, unable to break free from the horrific beings. “Who are you? What are you?” the Buhund demanded.

The queen smirked arrogantly. “Particular questions to get from a talking dog,” she said. “I suppose it is time to admit I haven’t been entirely truthful with the kingdom. After all, marrying into the royal family and taking over the country without so much as a name … it’s all so deceitful.”

Her grin grew inhumanely wide as the edges of her mouth almost stretched past her cheeks. “You see, before I was the queen I went by a rather notorious name. It’s about time I went back to using it, one might wager.”

She took hold of Lola’s face, taking care not to dig her long nails into the dog’s skin. A chill ran down Lola’s spine as the woman gazed into her eyes.

“My name, dear Buhund,” she said as she drew in close, “is Reanja delle Catene di Ferro.”

Next Chapter: (Book 1) Chapter 10 - The Iron Witch’s Dungeon