Soon after abandoning her lesson, Bee was led by Toshtta to the assembly. On the way, the Flowerbedside Maidens had run up to them, distraught in their panic. They told Bee and Toshtta that Lord Jhedothar was beside himself with fury and was to immediately strike out to dislodge the Eidolon and her Axiamati from his realm. Bee had managed to calm them and urge them to go to their Lady and take care of her. The four of them, then, hurried all the more to catch the war host before they departed.


    In the depths of the forward arming hall, where warriors gathered to ready, Bee slunk through the crowds of mismatched bodies. Her gaze roved over the chaos and disorder of what passed as Jhedothar’s army. Some were vat-born. Most were shed and wild-gened chimeric creatures, milling about in a disorganised rabble. They were volunteers, their ill-disciplined forms betraying a lack of experience, clutching weapons in their claws and pincers, ready to fight but unprepared for what was to come. Even Bee could see that. Their armour was cobbled together from scraps of metallic bone or grown shells. However, their weapons, lances and slender blades were all composed of the same wooden and bony designs. They seemed to be one glimmer of reliability for this armed force.


    Everywhere that Bee walked, faceted eyes and antennae wagged after her. She wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to the stares, but it was starting to become expected. In this light gown, she did appear essentially human, after all. It was very different to most here in the City.


    Sar-ek paced through the horde, his step heavy with swagger and his foul mouth cursing as he tried to shout the most confused of the soldiery into line.


    “The little Goddess deigns to grace us with her presence,” Sar-ek had mocked Bee when he saw her.


    “I’ll go where I want,” Bee had said, scowling at him. “Not that it’s any of your business now.”


    Sar-ek had snorted before spitting a wad of ochre phlegm onto the ground. “Jhedothar is too lenient with you.”


    Yet that had been that. It seemed he had much work to do. The Blades of the Rose cut through the chaos, their golden armour glinting in the electric torchlight as they joined Toshtta at Bee’s side.


    “Quite the menagerie, isn’t it?” Yonmar said with the ghost of a laugh, trying to break the apparent tension in the air as they walked.


    “They’ll never be able to beat the Eidolon,” Bee said, her gaze lingering on Sar-ek.


    Toshtta’s visor stared at Sar-ek as well, but she attempted to assuage Bee’s fears, nonetheless. “Have faith in our Lord Jhedothar. He is an experienced commander.”


    Bee wrinkled her nose, thinking of Jhedothar’s cursed augmentations. Unbidden, her mind turned to the Eidolon, remembering her immense strength and speed. Her belly filled with warmth, remembering how she was protected by that silent warrior. Bee shook her head in an attempt to dismiss the worm’s influence. It didn’t quite work.


    Jhedothar had stood at the front of his horde, attendants dressing him in golden raiments and fastening thick, steely barding and armour to his half-dead form, metallic implants fused with still flesh. Just the sight of him soured Bee’s mood further. As he readied, Jhedothar’s ire simmered beneath his seemingly calm exterior. He had given no explicit order to cast Bee away, but he had called Toshtta and Yonmar Free over and spoken to them low. They bowed their heads as if chastised before returning to Bee, leaving Jhedothar to brood as he readied his infamous ruby spear.


    “Never trust them,” Slashex had whispered to Bee. She found herself nodding, already thinking much the same thing.


    The entire arming hall then descended, mounted as it was to the side of the great tower of Ymmngorad. Lowered down on thick-hewn chains, it ratcheted and cranked in its plunge down until it locked fast against a mighty gateway. The grating of that ancient fortification rose, revealing the crumbling ruins and forgotten halls of Cruiros proper laid out beneath them.


    An electric thrill ran down Bee’s spine as the gates of Ymmngorad slid open. Fresh air, tinged with the scents of earthy dampness and ozone, flowed over her.


    Once the force was ready to march, Bee insisted on joining Jhedothar at the fore. When she, the Blades of the Rose, Yonmar Free, and Slashex joined Jhedothar’s cadre, she found him glaring at her as he strode down the steep steps of the gateyard, out to the slopes at the tower’s base and then through the winding streets of the old realm. She lifted her chin and stared back, refusing to cower.


    “You should not have come,” Jhedothar growled low, his bestial skull looking away as he did his best to appear disaffected and confident before his warriors. “I sent word for you to remain in that lesson for good reason.”


    “Have you seen the Eidolon fight?” Bee asked, narrowing her eyes. “I have. Twice. I don’t think you can beat her.”


    “Yet I have bested her afore,” Jhedothar said loud enough to be overheard before lowering his tone again. “When she was a Dame and I was a Sir, before we were both cursed in our own ways.”


    “Well, I don’t know what the Wire-Witch did to you, but the Eidolon is really strong,” Bee said before throwing up her arms with frustration. “You’re going to get these people following you killed.”


    “Enough,” Jhedothar barked before raising his hand. “Toshtta.”


    “Your Lordship?” She answered quickly, having clearly been listening to the exchange.


    “Take the Lady of Sestchek to the rear and defend her well until—”


    “—But I need to talk to the Eidolon,” Bee interrupted him.


    “—Until she is called for address,” Jhedothar continued. “Drag her there, if you must.”


    “Yes, Your Lordship.”


    The Blades turned on Bee, who threw up her arms again and huffed before turning away. Bee walked away, flanked by Toshtta and the Blades of the Rose. Their thorny vines rasped against their armour with every step, an eerie susurration that set them apart from the stamping masses.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Then, as she waited for the host’s largest column to pass, Bee looked from the bone sky — arched endlessly, pale and empty — to the three maiden warriors. Their golden armour glistened in the dim light that filtered through the ruins of Cruiros, its polished surface marred only by the viny growths that twisted and writhed amidst the maile and rubble alike — all growth on woman and world alike stemming from one Lady, Bee had to remind herself, the erstwhile Rose of Thorns. How terrible must she have been to reach so far, through City and freak in equal measure?


    The Blades’ helmets obscured their faces, granting them an air of otherworldly menace as they flanked Bee and her companions. Bee wondered if their faces were overgrown, too. Did they have faces like hers? She couldn’t help but compare the Blades of the Rose to the crumbling biomechanical buildings and the overgrown vegetation that themselves bore testament to the decay and overgrowth that had consumed Cruiros. The visage of once mighty titans loomed overhead, their grotesque forms frozen in eternal struggle as they laboured to support the vast expanse of greater Acetyn above.


    Bee suddenly felt an unexpected and strange kinship with those twisted giants, bound as they were to a burden they could never escape. In the shadow of their immense forms, she asked herself if she, too, was destined to share their fate — to become trapped like her mother was in the City or elsewise caught in these intrigues in some other ineffable but just as inescapable a way.


    It was then Bee noticed Slashex staring at her — or as close as he could come to staring, eyeless as he was. She returned the look, frowning, realising just how adept Slashex was at becoming unobtrusive despite his heavy artificial limbs and clumsy robotic stride.


    “Stay focused, Bee,” Slashex chided gently, his voice breaking through her morose reverie. “Remember why you’re here.”


    “I didn’t tell you why I’m here,” she said, eyes narrowing.


    Slashex’s lips twisted into another of his sly looks. “And rightly so. Nevertheless, if this comes to battle, we shall be damned.”


    Yomnar, who had also been listening in, clasped his hands together and said, “Our guest has a point.” His eyes belied suspicion as well, though he did not voice it. “The Lord is clearly agitated and quick to the defence of his realm. Yet, if we are afforded the opportunity, we should stymie his more volatile urges as best we can.”


    Bee sighed, looking back at the crumbling ruins surrounding them with its fallen spires and vine-choked rubble. If only she could lose herself in these forgotten halls and escape the machinations of Jhedothar and all his followers. For an instant, she considered running. Maybe she could even find a place to use her wings again. They wouldn’t catch her if she did that. But what would she leave behind?


    She could find the Eidolon herself, and the thought came to Bee. It wasn’t in the worm’s voice this time but her own. A giddiness touched her, but then guilt. If she did that and didn’t try to stop the fighting, how many people might die?


    She shared her glance with the soldiery at the rear. These volunteers — some barely more than children, others with bodies marred by age and battle — were the castaways and the forgotten, fighting for survival in a world that had long since abandoned them.


    “Stay close to me,” Toshtta said, interrupting Bee’s thoughts as the Blades of the Rose moved around Bee, and the column of armsmen finally passed them by.


    And, taking to the rear of the host, Bee continued to gaze over the state of the crumbling old realm. Slashex’s mechanical limbs clicked rhythmically against the ground, and Yonmar Free fell into a silent retreat of introspection. As they moved deeper into the heart of Cruiros, the landscape grew more twisted and desolate. Biomechanical buildings loomed over them like skeletal giants, their crumbling facades revealing the decay that had long festered within. The bladed vines choked the streets, creating a labyrinth of tangled vines and gnarled roots. Where the direction wasn’t precise enough, again and again, the motley and ill-disciplined host faltered and had to be redirected.


    Before long, their march took them within sight of that raised theapolis. Another hundred or so armed freaks and mutants had barricaded the ramparts leading up to its raised plateau. As the two groups cautiously approached each other, Jhedothar barked an order, and the column of his host split apart to join with various disparate squadrons of soldiers who held the approach up to the old temple district. The tension in the air was palpable as wary glances were exchanged and unspoken alliances formed between armsmen who had perhaps never met.


    It took perhaps another hour for the forces to settle down. At the rear, as she was, still in the basin below the ramparts, Bee didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of their adversaries. Finally, a messenger arrived, throwing his form low to beg that Bee would again join Jhedothar’s group. He seemed very afraid of her, and Bee wasn’t sure why.


    Bee and her entourage were met with a many-legged freak on her approach. He had large, faceted eyes that bulged from the top of his skull and walked on many sinewy, articulated legs. Bee recognised him as the musician who played for her and Jhedothar at the feast. His armour was dented and ill-fitting, but he wore it with pride nevertheless.


    “Allow me to finally introduce myself, Your Ladyship.” He swept low, a half-dozen legs bending. “I am Yoxsimer of the Abbalate."


    “Bee.” She tried to smile. “You don’t have to call me a Lady.”


    “Oh, but that is my wish,” he said with a gentle laugh. His mandibles twisted into what might have approximated a smile in return, head tipping aside as if he was too shy to meet her dark eyes. “Would you deny me that?”


    He was charming. Bee’s smile became perhaps more genuine. “No, I guess not.” Bee pursed her lips. “What I would deny is this whole thing. I don’t think we should be readying to fight like this.”


    “Alas, alas,” Yoxsimer turned to walk with them towards Jhedothar’s position, up the sloping ramparts and winding streets within them. “The City is larger than any of us, and we must struggle to take our rightful place.”


    “Do you really believe that?” Bee asked. “Or are you just repeating what Jhedothar tells you?”


    Yoxsimer laughed again. “You have a tongue as sharp as any blade, if you will excuse my saying so, Your Ladyship. No, these are my words. I follow him because our goals align. You will find I do not blindly accept everything he says.”


    “And what exactly are your goals?” Bee realised she was grinning now. There was a playfulness to the way Yoxsimer spoke that endeared her to him.


    “The same as yours, I think,” Yoxsimer said before they arrived upon Jhedothar’s cadre. “Ah, allow me, Your Ladyship.” He raised his voice to herald their coming. “Lord Jhedothar, the Lady of Sestchek has arrived.”


    “Good,” Jhedothar said. His eyes were fixed upon the columns of the temple district and the vast structure that enclosed it. Bee turned to look, too, and she saw beyond their hastily erected barriers that the area opposing them had also been barricaded. But then Bee’s eyes snapped to the burned and collapsed remains of the church within it. The sight of the hallowed site, gutted and destroyed, stung her unexpectedly.


    “The Axiamati remnants hold the remains of the dynasty’s shrine,” Jhedothar continued. “There are perhaps twenty of them. We outnumber them ten to one.”


    “Is that enough?” Bee asked, which earned her a dark look from Jhedothar.


    “It will be a short fight, if it comes to that,” Jhedothar said before shouting over his shoulder. “Today, the Pale rule over Acetyn comes to an end!”


    And his mob cheered.


    Whilst the armed forces surrounding the plateau roared, Jhedothar turned to look down at Bee. “The Axiamati still have a semblance of honour. You shall come with me, together with Yoxsimer and the Blades of the Rose, to accept their surrender. Yonmar Free, come to record this moment.” He glanced back at Slashex briefly. “The rest shall remain here.”


    Doubt crept into her eyes, and Bee shared a look with Slashex, who was still dressed in his pale cloak despite Jhedothar’s bellowing. She was certain that it would not be so easy.