They arrived at Dirt City. It sat before the Six Mountains that separated the Coal City and Iron City.

  They were called the Worm Mountains, because the peaks twisted in and out of the earth like giant stone worms.

  The city was paved, but dirt covered every sign. Men smoked cigars made of a special grass. Their eyes were green, like the grass, but empty of life.

  "Had to be Ashley," Leo muttered, looking at the city.

  "Shyn," Ruther said. "You know the place?"

  "Yes. But it's a bit different. They seem tense. Like they heard about what happened in the castle."

  "We should disguise ourselves," Andree suggested.

  They knelt down. They took the mud from the ground and drew dragons on their cheeks.

  They were pretending to be the Est Tribe. The peaceful tribe of the Worm Mountains. People who didn't want war or city life.

  They walked into the city.

  The people stared. They stared mostly at Andree. His eyes were different.

  Shyn had gold-blue eyes—common for Sun Realm people. Ruther had gray eyes with a tint of green near the iris—close enough to the locals. But Andree stood out.

  "Hey, man," Leo whispered. "Something is not right."

  "Shyn," Ruther said, keeping his head down. "Where is the medicine store?"

  "It's there. But we have to make up a story. They won't give us that much stock without a reason."

  Ruther thought for a second. "You know the plague that happened in the Worm Mountains? The Monkey Fever?"

  "Yeah."

  "We will tell them that it came back," Ruther said. "That most of the Tribe are dying. And that I am the only one who was able to come."

  Shyn shook his head. "Too dreamy. They would never believe it."

  "Have something better?" Ruther asked.

  Shyn paused. "Fine. The Plague it is."

  They split up to get the gold.

  Leo went to the weapons shop.

  “Hello mister, I want to sell these... except this one.”

  “This one stays with me.”

  The shopkeeper looked at the pile of castle-forged swords.

  “You know my tribe uses them for self-defense, but the plague needs another type of weapon.”

  “Ahh, okay, but that’s a lot of steel,” the shopkeeper said, rubbing the back of his head.

  “Sir, these are made from the leaves of the Iron Tree.”

  “The Iron Tree?”

  “It makes swords better than anything you have here.”

  “And you have blacksmiths who are that skilled?”

  “Of course. They forge the weapons while blindfolded.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “So they can feel the spirit of the metal without being distracted by the world.”

  “I don’t know what you are saying, but the quality is undeniable.” The shopkeeper weighed a sword. “I will take them for two thousand and five hundred.”

  “I will not go under five thousand! The Iron Tree does not grow fast!”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Five thousand? I can’t. All I have here is three thousand five hundred at best.”

  “Deal.”

  “But you just said—”

  “And I now say deal. Want to take the swords or not?”

  “Okay, crazy man.”

  Leo shook his hand, taking the bag of money.

  On the other side, Andree and Shyn were talking to the old blacksmith.

  “As I told you—”

  “Look son, I am not stupid. These are standard issue breastplates. Probably stolen.”

  Andree froze. He leaned in. “Stolen from dead men who tried to attack our mountain. Do you want the steel or not?”

  The old man grinned. “I like honesty. I would take them for four thousand.”

  “Four thousand and five hundred.”

  The old man sighed. “Deal.”

  And Ruther went to the Jewelry store.

  “I want to sell this.”

  The shopkeeper looked up from his book.

  “Let me see.” He said, taking the necklace. He brought it close to his eye.

  The shopkeeper's mouth opened for a second. “This... this is a Royal Crest. Where did a dirt-eater like you get this?”

  Ruther didn't flinch. “Found it on a corpse in the mountain pass. A noble thought he could climb the Worms. He was wrong.”

  The shopkeeper looked at Ruther’s dragon paint. He decided not to ask more questions.

  “It’s a good piece. Maybe I will give you seven hundred for it.”

  “Too little. “Ruther said, snatching it back.

  “Then nine hundred. Best price you will find in this dust hole.”

  “A thousand and it’s yours.”

  The shopkeeper groaned. “Deal.” He shook Ruther’s hand, giving him the thousand.

  They all met back in the alley.

  They walked into the medicine store. On the outside, it was small. A shack.

  But inside... the floor dropped away.

  The store was a tower, but inverted. It went deep into the ground, branching out like the roots of a massive tree.

  "Wow," Leo whispered, looking down the spiral stairs.

  "My god," Shyn said. "I never thought I would be amazed twice in one day."

  A shopkeeper appeared from the shadows. "Yes, good gentlemen. How can I help you?"

  Ruther stepped forward, keeping his head low. "We need your help, Mister."

  "The Worm Mountains," Andree added, his voice grave. "They are sick."

  "The monkeys," Ruther said. "They came down again. Sickening our people."

  The shopkeeper frowned. "We aren't a charity here—"

  Ruther slammed the heavy bag of gold on the counter.

  "We aren't here for charity," Ruther said. "We have money. But please, sir. We don't have time."

  The shopkeeper looked at the gold. "Ah. I see."

  He shook his head. "I am sorry to hear that.”

  “You 'Est' people were always the most peaceful I saw in my life. Not like the Glass People."

  The generals froze. "Those slaves," the shopkeeper spat. "They have taken a castle of ours.”

  “They killed the Warchief. Such a barbarian act."

  Ruther clenched his fist under his cloak. But he smiled.

  "Yes, sir," Ruther said, tasting the bile in his throat. "How barbaric."

  The shopkeeper nodded. "Boss!" he shouted into the depths of the tower.

  "Come here! Get them what they need!"

  A 13-year-old boy came running from the back.

  The shopkeeper handed him the list.

  The boy read it and frowned. He looked at Ruther.

  "Sir," the boy said. "These are the wrong ingredients for a plague medicine.”

  “This... this is medicine for battle wounds. Slashes. Punctures."

  The Generals went pale. Ruther stepped forward, his face calm. "The plague this time is different, son," Ruther said. "It takes the mind of the sick.”

  “It makes them violent. They hurt each other. We don't have much time."

  The boy hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah... it seems like that."

  He ran into the caves to gather the stock.

  The boy and five men returned, pushing a heavy cart. It was made of Gold.

  "Gold isn't that rare here," Leo whispered. "Why make a cart out of it?"

  "It's not normal gold," Shyn whispered back.

  “Its gold forged with the blood of Type 4s.”

  "What?" Andree whispered.

  "It makes the metal stronger," Shyn explained. "It makes it hold 20 times more weight than it should."

  "So... they kill their own?"

  "No," Shyn spat. "They take it from the slaves.”

  “They take it from the Glass People. They milk them for their blood."

  Ruther looked at the cart.

  He gripped the handle. "As if they are milking cows," Ruther whispered.

  The 13-year-old loaded the medicine. "Here, sir," the boy said.

  "Yeah. Thanks, little mister."

  They started pushing the cart out.

  Then, a man walked in.

  He had the same clothes. The same tattoos. A real Est Tribesman.

  "Mister," the tribesman said to Ruther, confusing him for a local merchant.

  "I want some sunstone" He stopped.

  He looked at Ruther's face. He saw the mud tattoo smearing with sweat.

  He looked at their eyes.

  "Oh no," Andree said.

  "GUARDS!" the tribesman shouted. "IMPOSTERS!"

  "RUN!" Ruther yelled. They shoved the heavy Blood Gold cart.

  It rolled fast, but the guards were faster. "Stop them!" Spears flew past their heads.

  "Can you do something, King?!" Leo screamed, pushing with all his might.

  "Like, we are going to die here!"

  "Get the spears!" the guards shouted, closing in.

  "Like, really do something!" Shyn yelled.

  Ruther reached into his pocket. " The Shard!" he shouted.

  "She said break this glass to teleport!"

  He threw the shard on the ground.

  Nothing happened. They were still in Dirt City. The guards were ten feet away.

  "She sold us?!" Merk cried.

  "No!" Ruther stood his ground, drawing his sword. "It takes time, stupid! Just hold!"

  "I knew it," Andree sighed, drawing his bowstring taut. "I knew blood was going to be spilled today."

  "Don't let them near the cart!" Ruther commanded, stepping in front of the gold wagon.

  "We would have done that anyway," Leo said, grabbing a bow from the supplies and nocking an arrow.

  Shyn drew his blade. He looked at Ruther.

  "So," Shyn grinned. "Me and Ruther are the only ones who have swords? Fun."

  The guards rushed the alley. A wall of spears. "CHARGE!" Ruther screamed.

  He and Shyn didn't wait to be skewered. They ran into the spears.

  They weaved.

  They dodged. A spear thrust at Ruther's chest; he spun inside the guard's reach.

  His sword opened the guard's throat.

  Behind them, arrows flew.

  Andree and Leo were dropping guards who tried to flank them.

  But in the center, it was a bloodbath. Ruther and Shyn moved like butchers.

  They slashed bodies, taking blood and guts.

  They turned the narrow alley into a choke point of corpses.

  "Just hold!" Ruther shouted, parrying a strike. "Just hold until the glass breaks!”

  The glass shattered. The air twisted. A rift tore open.

  On the other side, Ashley stood in the castle courtyard, holding the magic stable.

  "I hope I wasn't late," she said, smirking.

  "You were," Leo shouted, firing a final arrow. "You old man's bootlicker!"

  "GO!" Ruther screamed.

  They shoved the gold cart through the rift. Shyn, Andree, Leo, and Ruther dived after it.

  But they weren't alone. A guard, too eager for a kill, chased them right into the magic.

  They hit the stone floor of their own castle. Safe. Leo collapsed, gasping. "Hhh... I can't breathe."

  "No," Shyn said, checking the medicine. "You are just tired—"

  Shyn stopped. He pointed.

  Leo looked up.

  The guard was standing there. He blinked.

  He looked at the walls of the Rebel Castle.

  Then he looked at the Five Generals surrounding him.

  Leo drew his bow, aiming right at the man's face.

  The soldier immediately raised his hands. "I surrender!"

  Leo laughed. "Yeah. You chased us through a portal... into our base...”

  “That really shows you came here to surrender."

  Ruther patted Leo's shoulder, lowering the bow. "We don't need another corpse," Ruther said.

  "We have enough bodies."

  "Yeah. You're right," Leo grinned. He looked at the terrified soldier.

  "Then you... are my servant. Get me a glass of wine."

  The soldier blinked. "What?"

  "Did I stutter? Wine. Now." The soldier scrambled away to find a bottle.

  "Let's leave him to what he is doing," Ruther said, shaking his head.

  He nodded to Andree. "The cart."

  They pushed the gold cart into the medical tent. The healers rushed them, tearing open the crates.

  "Gauze! Salve!" One of the healers dropped to her knees. "Thank you, my King—"

  Ruther raised his hand, stopping her. "That is my job," he said gently.

  "No thanks for the 'normal'."