"You are an embarrassment to gold dragons, Rakshanatosh!" A Truegold dragon yelled. He was in his human form, and gold scales covered his cheeks. His hair was made of scales, neatly tied in a ponytail. He pointed a sharp, elongated nail at another Truegold gold dragon.

  "They are just kids, Kranatas!" Raksha stretched a scaly hand, protecting the hut behind him. His twelve adopted children were hiding inside. Little did Raksha know that Whitehall was currently among them. The other kids were too frightened to notice him. Unlike the other gold dragon, Raksha's hair was short, sitting right above his shoulders.

  "Human, kids," Kranatas snarled, baring sharp canines. "You have defied our way!" he shouted, his scales beginning to glow gold and his tail lashed.

  "You dare challenge me!" Raksha roared, shaking the limestone walls of the hut. His scales began glowing a similar golden colour. "You think you can beat me just because you have advanced to Truegold!"

  "You're old, Raksha," the younger dragon replied. "If you surrender now, I'll let you live for a few scales. The reward from the Monarch would suffice." Kranatas smiled as he thought of the reward he would get for turning in those humans. His smile widened with greed, "I take it back. Your remnant would fetch me more."

  Raksha roared and fired a gold dragon's breath.

  Whitehall sat inside, bored, scratching the inside of his ear. He scooped out the sand that was stuck inside. Sand and more sand, he thought. Never in his life had he imagined that sand would be this annoying. They were in his shoes, robes, and now in his ears. He felt a burst of madra and exchange of techniques outside. The battle has started.

  Whitehall sighed, putting on his most scared face. "Run!" he squeaked in his most scared voice.

  The other children looked at him, stunned. To be fair, Whitehall thought, Raksha had told them to remain inside the hut. He flayed his arms widely above his head. "Aaaaaahhhhhh!" he yelled, running around in circles. Once a few children began screaming, Whitehall ran towards the backdoor and into the desert, arms still moving wildly. "The hut is gonna collapse!" he cried. "Runnnnn!"

  He felt embarrassed for having to do this. Oh well, the reward would be worth it. The other twelve kids ran behind him into the desert. The sound of battle and explosions boomed behind them. He slipped out amidst the chaos once he estimated they were far enough from the battle. The children did not notice him disappearing behind a rock, and they ran past him.

  He sighed again, removing his shoes. He shook them, pouring away the sand that had gotten inside. It did not take long for the battle to end, and he heard footsteps running towards him. Whitehall slapped his face multiple times. He faked as many tears as he could.

  "Please don't hurt me," he cried, pulling his knees towards his chest and closing his eyes in fear.

  "Don't worry, little one. The bad dragon is gone," a dragon's voice spoke gently.

  Whitehall opened one eye and saw it was Raksha. He had a cut on his head, and drops of blood were flowing out. But other than that, the dragon was fine. That was good, much safer, Whitehall thought.

  "Can you tell me where the others are?" the dragon asked.

  Whitehall continued burying his face in his knees, just in case the dragon might have realised he was not one of the adopted children. "They ran that way," he sobbed, pointing behind him. "I tripped and got left behind."

  "Okay. Can you make it back to the hut on your own?" Raksha asked. "I'll need to find them."

  Whitehall nodded. "I remember the way," he muttered.

  "Okay. Go now," the dragon ordered softly before running towards the other children.

  Once the gold dragon had left, Whitehall sighed. He stood up and wiped the sand in his eyes that he had slapped onto to cry. Once he dusted his clothes, he began running back towards the hut.

  On the way, he thought of how he ended up in this situation, crying like a child on a daily.

  He woke up in a familiar tent, Sadi drinking tea next to him.

  "The young one is awake," Meatball chirped sarcastically, perching on Sadi's left shoulder.

  "How are you feeling?" Sadi asked, offering him a cup of tea.

  "Fine," he answered, sitting up. He massaged his sore back. "Where are we?" he asked, accepting the tea.

  "At the border of the Gold Dragon territory," Sadi replied.

  "What? Why?" Whitehall asked.

  Meatball answered. "Hunt some dragons and advance. Duh"

  That was when Whitehall noticed something different. He felt excitement coming from Meatball. Their bond, he realised. Their contract worked.

  "We're not hunting anything," Sadi corrected the bird, rubbing the bird's head fondly.

  "Hey! Hey! Hey!" Meatball complained, moving her head away. "I'm not some lost puppy!"

  Sadi giggled. "You're just too cute."

  Meatball huffed but did not move away.

  "We're only going to be scavenging for treasures so you can advance. I have scouted the area while you were unconscious, and I think I have a plan," Sadi smiled mischievously.

  "Scouted?" Whitehall blurted. "How long was I out?"

  "A Long time," Meatball squawked. "Sadi and I were bored to death waiting for you."

  "A few days," Sadi answered. "A few scared beasts flew us here right after you began forming your bond." She gestured towards the bird on her shoulder. "Meatball woke up thirty minutes-"

  Meatball bit Sadi's ear.

  "Okay. Okay. Okay," Sadi repeated. "Meatball woke up long before you."

  The bird let go in satisfaction. Whitehall felt playfulness rather than irritation from their bond. The bird had no superiority complex; it was just her sense of humour. Whitehall laughed.

  "Anyway," Sadi continued, "I think my plan is solid. And Meatball here agrees. "Her mischievous smile grew wide.

  Meatball could not really grin, but Whitehall felt her emotions through their bond.

  "It's not going to be good, will it?" he paled.

  "Depends," Sadi giggled.

  Whitehall sighed as he recalled the memory. He was glad that it was almost over. He did not think he could take it any longer. He reached the yellow hut and saw Sadi kneeling beside the dead Truegold dragon. She was rummaging through his pockets.

  "That was the best yet," Meatball laughed at Whitehall from Sadi's shoulder. "You're finally beginning to act your age."

  "Ha ha," Whitehall rolled his eyes as he approached. He knelt next to them. "Please tell me I don't have to do this again," he begged.

  Sadi did not reply immediately, focusing entirely on stripping the body of everything valuable. Whitehall saw that the dead dragon was battered to a pulp and had a hole in his forehead. He shivered at the thought of a technique capable of taking out a Truegold like that.

  "This feels wrong, you know," Whitehall muttered. "Stealing from nice dragons."

  "Gotta do what we gotta do," Sadi replied.

  "Damn," Whitehall cursed, remembering Raksha's condition when he last saw the kind dragon.

  "Huh?" Sadi asked, finishing putting all the dead dragon's things, barring his clothes, inside her pack.

  "I don't know why. But I still find it difficult to believe there is such a large gap even between Truegolds," he answered, eyeing the battered body.

  They had already been on this mission for two years, a year outside Sacred Valley. They were advancing much faster than expected, but it still felt like they needed to advance faster. He grimaced as he remembered the bloodspawns. Golds were slaughtered like foundations. Even Sunda died because of it. And they have not even faced the dreadgod. Damn this world.

  "Slow and steady," Sadi replied, placing a gentle hand on Whitehall's.

  Her voice grounded him. He looked down at her hand on his. His hands were shaking, he realised. "Thanks," he said to her.

  "Come on," Sadi pulled him up. "We need to go before the Truegold return."

  His gaze locked onto her, unable to look away. Sadi was gold now. If they returned to Sacred Valley, they could strong-arm everyone to listen to them. Heck, many would willingly follow the idea of gold. No. They would not, he realised. Those bastards are too fixated on their pride of being the strongest.

  "Come on," Sadi began dragging him. "What's up with you lately?" She started running, her gold body dragging Whitehall like a child. Then again, he was in a child's body.

  His mask was slipping, he realised. Better put in on again.

  The run was good for him. It made him too tired to brood. They stopped once they reached an empty space near the edge of the desert. Sadi pointed in a direction and walked towards it, disappearing as she passed through a hidden border. Whitehall followed, disappearing after her.

  It was a technique that Sadi had developed, bending the light and preventing anyone from seeing them. She has not decided what to call it yet. More advanced artists can probably detect and see them, but they were rare this far out.

  "Good news," Sadi said, unpacking the stolen goods onto the ground. "I think this would be enough."

  "Are you sure?" Whitehall asked.

  "Nope," she replied. "But we're out of time anyway."

  "Glad I wouldn't need to cry like a baby again," Whitehall said, sitting down and removing his shoes.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "You okay?" Sadi asked, arranging all their stolen treasures. "You've been off lately."

  Whitehall thought he heard worry. "I'm fine," he said, shaking the sand out of his shoes. He looked over his shoulder and saw Sadi's sandals. The next time they had to go to the desert, he would get one, too.

  "You're lying," Sadi mused, raising an eyebrow. "I've been living with you for over a year, in case you haven't noticed."

  "True," Whitehall admitted. "One day, maybe?"

  Sadi shrugged. "Whenever you're ready," she smiled. "I'm here to talk."

  Whitehall returned her smile with his own. "Thanks." Sadi was like that. She never forced him to talk if he did not want to, but she always reminded him she was there. "You know you can always talk to me, too, right?"

  "I know," she replied confidently and half jokingly. She took a look at the treasures neatly arranged on the floor. She nodded approvingly and began packing them inside their pack in order.

  Whitehall did not ask or comment. Sadi had always been like this since they met. She had her way of arranging things inside her pack.

  Meatball eyed Whitehall from Sadi's shoulder. "You better not break anytime soon. We just started our journey."

  "I won't," Whitehall replied, sending a wave of confidence through their bond.

  Meatball straightened in satisfaction. "You better not. Or I'll bite you."

  Whitehall chuckled.

  "So, what now?" Whitehall asked. "Do I advance here, or shall we return to the forest first?"

  "I don't know," Sadi answered, lying on her mattress. "Master didn't say anything."

  Just as Sadi closed her eyes, her eyes slammed open. "Whitehall!" she yelled as her perception screamed.

  He must have felt it, too, because he immediately lept towards the side wall of the tent.

  Sadi lept sidewards and tried to grab hold of their bag, but Meatball bit her hand, stopping her hand in its tracks. A gold dragon's breath shot through the tent and onto the pack.

  "Run!" Meatball yelled, flapping her wings in an attempt to fly and carry Sadi.

  The dragon's breath shot through the top part of their bag, where the least valuable treasure was. Sadi did not have a chance to sigh in relief when her perception screamed again. She ducked down flat onto the ground, and two dragons' breath struck through where her head was.

  "Come on!" Whitehall grabbed her robes on her shoulder and began running.

  Sadi got up quickly, running out of the burning hole that had been formed in the back of their tent. The forest was not far ahead; maybe friendly sacred beasts would be nearby.

  "Yes," a vile voice jeered behind them. "Run, puny humans. Make it fun for us."

  Sadi's perception told her four sacred artists were chasing them. Three were lowgold. The last one was more advanced, but she was unsure exactly what.

  Meatball answered for her. "Highgold!" she squealed.

  Sadi activated her technique, making them invisible as they ran. The technique did not require much madra. She could maintain it indefinitely, thanks to her iron body and the scorching sun of the desert. The problem was that they were moving, and it wasn't easy to maintain the technique on a moving object.

  "Hah," a dragon barked behind them. "You think that technique would work? That way!"

  Sadi dodged to the right, avoiding a gold dragon's breath that came for her from behind. She thanked the heavens for allowing her to advance again. Her previous Jade eyes in Heaven's Glory were not as effective as they were now. Her lowgold advancement had only improved them further.

  Whitehall screamed in front of her. But he was still a Jade. His perception was not as good as hers. He was on the ground, the left side of his face a smoking gore.

  "Whitehall!" Meatball yelled, flying to land on Whitehall's shoulder.

  Whitehall was a mess, and his body convulsed uncontrollably as madra leaked out of the wound. He fought against his limbs, trying to cover the wound with his hands.

  Sadi dropped her pack beside him. "Meatball, do something. Call for help. Anything!" she yelled, unable to hide the panic in her voice. She had no time to take care of him. The best thing she could do now was to buy time.

  She turned to face their pursuers. The four dragons had stopped not far from them. They smiled maliciously.

  "It seems this one has a heart," the dragon second from the left provoked. "You humans and your weak resolve." She had long, red, scaly hair, and her tail whipped in excitement behind her. Sadi knew she was the highgold. She was the only one that bore any resemblance to a human.

  "I hate your kind," the highgold snarled. "Do you know why?"

  For once, Sadi was glad Whitehall was right, thinking back on a conversation they had long ago in the cave. Bad guys always monologue.

  "No," Sadi answered, eyeing the four dragons. Her mind whirled. Her offensive spells were weak, and she had no time to develop new techniques.

  "You humans disgust me. Your way of life and your attempts to constrain the strong," she spat. "It's unnatural and vile."

  "I agree," Sadi replied.

  The four dragons gave her a confused look.

  "That's why we are out here. We hate that rule. Who are the weak to tell the strong what to do?" Her mind rummaged through memories of conversations with Whitehall. "If we baby the weak, when will they get strong." She shrugged.

  The lowgold red dragon on the far right nodded agreeably and opened his mouth, but the highgold cut in.

  "Shut up, you useless fool!" the highgold snapped. "Can't you see that she is buying time!"

  The lowgold winced in fear before turning his mouth into an O.

  "Just get ready to fight. Their remnants and bodies will get us quite the bounty," snarled the highgold.

  Crap , Sadi sighed. Her attempts to buy time failed. She unhooked the karambits from her hips and got ready to fight.

  "Get up!" Meatball yelled; her black wings were all tied up, covering Whitehall's wounds. The sound of battle had begun behind them.

  Whitehall's body was still convulsing, but his remaining eye remained open. He stared at the battle in front of him. The highgold had not joined the fight, only staring at the three lowgolds battling Sadi. Sadi had no offensive techniques; her focus was solely on dodging and misdirection. She was not going to last very long.

  "Advuaaaaan," he grunted through gritted teeth, but his voice was inaudible. The physical pain was not so bad; he had gotten through worse. But his spirit was in agony. Madra continued to leak out of his wound, and his core felt like it was about to shatter. He could feel Meatball pumping madra into him through their connection, but she had her limits. Advance , he tried to say through their bond. We need to advance, he urged.

  Meatball took a look back towards the battle and nodded furiously. "Hold on. You'll need to be the one to advance to fix that wound of yours. This is going to suck for both of us. But especially for you."

  She flew towards the bag, leaving Whitehall's wounds exposed. Madra rushed out like a cracked pipe. Whitehall felt Meatball's madra entering him doubled, and he knew she was straining herself. Unable to bear the spiritual pain, he screamed. Yelling always helps when in pain, he knew.

  Meatball returned, landing with a thud in front of his face. Her black feather was drenched, not by the heat, Whitehall knew. She held three boxes, one in her beak and the others in each leg. "Eat!" she grunted. "And don't stop eating."

  Meatball opened the boxes quickly, revealing odd pills and fruits inside. She flew away to fetch some more.

  Whitehall crawled closer to the elixirs and began swallowing them one after the other. He did not know what they were or what they would do. He did not even think about it. If it meant he was going to advance and be able to help Sadi, he would do it in a heartbeat.

  Madra began rapidly entering his core and channels, but he was leaking far too much. He slammed the wounded side of his face and head into the sand to slow the escaping madra. Meatball kept bringing more pills, and Whitehall could tell from their bond that she was hurting, too.

  He swallowed everything, even accidentally ingesting some of the sand. The pills came slower and slower as Meatball's madra also began running out.

  "That's all I've got," Meatball panted, her feathers matted to her skin as she brought another box of pills.

  Whitehall ate everything. Once he swallowed the last pill, he slammed his head deeper into the sand. The burns stung. His core swelled, and he cycled it to every channel he had. The venom madra burned through him, and he tried to prevent it from reaching his wounds and escaping. They rushed towards it. We will never hurt you , Whitehall felt the venom spoke to him. He was probably losing his mind and hearing voices, but he decided to trust it.

  "Do it!" he yelled, swallowing sand and releasing his control of the venom. The venom madra rushed to the wound.

  Sadi was not having a good day.

  She dodged left. Lept right. Backflipped, avoiding a dragon's breath that came towards her. She activated her technique, refracting the light around the area and distorting her image. Another dragon's breath landed to her left.

  That was too close. And for the first time in a while, she was angry. Not at the dragons hunting them but at her weakness. She hated feeling helpless.

  She blinded one of the red dragon's eyes, fueling it with her wrath. That was a good name, she thought, Blindingwrath. The dragon screamed and covered his eyes. She thought she saw smoke rising.

  "Annoying puny rascal," the dragon snarled, firing a dragon's breath at her.

  "Names later," Sadi said to herself. She swerved, meticulous at redirecting the fight away from Whitehall. She had been following her instincts so far, and it was working wonders against the three lowgold red dragons. No, not her instincts. Sunda's, she realised.

  She dodged again, blinding the eyes of another dragon that had launched dragon's breath at her. Her technique came out weak, and the dragon only needed to blink a few times to regain their vision. She was running out of madra; her iron body could not keep up. She wanted to cycle the light aura, but it would take too much concentration.

  "She's a human, you fools!" the highgold shouted, still not joining the battle.

  If she had joined, Sadi knew she would not last long.

  The three lowgold red dragons looked at the highgold in confusion.

  "They have this fixation on protecting the weak!" The highgold yelled. "She's protecting her mate!"

  Not them, too, Sadi moaned internally . Why does everyone keep saying that?

  "Yes, ma'am!" the three dragons shouted in unison upon realisation. They switched their targets towards the child and the sacred beast.

  Sadi turned to gaze at Whitehall and Meatball. Meatball was lying flat on the sand but still breathing, and Whitehall had half his head buried in the sand. Her perception eased her worries slightly. Whitehall was advancing. He just needed a little more time, and her worry grew because she might not be able to give him any more time.

  The dragons opened their jaw, and gold flames began to form between their teeth. Sadi dashed between the dragons and Whitehall. Her heart thumped as she stood, not knowing what to do. She could block one of the breaths with her body, but who would protect Whitehall and Meatball afterwards?

  Sadi gritted her teeth in frustration, watching the dragon's breath forming in the mouths of her enemies. Observe and change . Those were the instructions that Sunda had passed onto her through her master. She observed using her perception on the dragon's breath like she did when she learned to cycle in her Path of the Solar Dusk. It finally clicked.

  She twisted all the light in the dragon's breath- both visible and invisible. Her madra drained to almost nothing, but her technique worked. The dragons' breath exploded in the mouth of the three dragons.

  She spat blood, and her legs gave out. But before she could fall, she felt an arm catching her. She did not need to look to know who it belonged to.

  "Thank you," Whitehall said from her left, holding her up with two arms around her waist. "You good?"

  His voice had changed. It was raspy and almost airy, like someone with a throat wound.

  "Yeah," she breathed as she was gently lowered to the warm sand. "I think you grew taller. You're almost at my shoulder now."

  "You're just a big woman," Whitehall jested, a smile forming.

  "Rude," she replied jokingly. "Is that how you show gratitude to your saviour?"

  Whitehall snorted; he turned his face to her.

  Sadi cringed at the sight of the other half of his face, unable to hide her emotions.

  "Yeah. Meatball had the same reaction," he sighed.

  Sadi could only stare. His left cheek was a grotesque landscape of melted flesh, twisted and warped as if it had been torn apart and sloppily fused back together. The burn extended from the corner of his lips, dragging the skin into a misshapen snarl, and ran jaggedly across his face to the back of his head. His skin was pocked with irregular, gaping holes oozing dark black fumes. The edges of the holes were charred and blackened, peeling away like scorched paper, revealing raw, angry black tissue beneath. Every movement of his jaw caused the burnt flesh to writhe unnaturally, as if alive with its torment.

  "We'll talk about it later, yeah?" Whitehall suggested. Although his voice was calm, albeit raspy, Sadi could hear the bitterness.

  "Yeah," she smiled and realised she was not faking it. "Caught me by surprise, that's all."

  There were groans as the red dragons began rising. They had burn wounds around their jaws, and one even had a missing lower jaw. Their tongues thrashed wildly in circles. They stared daggers at the two humans.

  "For what it's worth," Sadi returned to face Whitehall. "You're still the best-looking male friend I have. And definitely better than them," she pointed at the wounded dragons.

  "Hah!" Whitehall snorted. He was the only male friend Sadi had. At least, that is human.

  "I agree!" Meatball chirped, landing on Whitehall's shoulder from above. "And I think you have the coolest gold sign I ever see."

  Whitehall felt warmth coming through his bond with Meatball. He could not help but smile.

  "Stay like that!" Meatball said. And face them!" She pointed with a wing towards the dragons.

  That was when Sadi noticed the change in Meatball's feathers. They reflected the sunlight like metal.

  Whitehall turned towards the dragons, still smiling. The dragons' eyes widened, and one even recoiled.

  "Give me a minute to cycle," Sadi said, closing her eyes and sitting in a cycling position.

  "Got it," Meatball replied.

  Whitehall eyed the dragons and snarled. "You should've stayed home, little lizards."

  The dragons recoiled but held a fighting stance.

  Whitehall unleashed venom madra into the surroundings, his vast madra channels making it easy. Meatball shot feathers through the air, which turned into venom aura as it drifted towards the dragons.

  The dark madra drifted rapidly through the air, and the dragons dodged. Jumping left and right away from the poisonous madra. They fired dragons' breaths towards him, but their shots missed by margins.

  "I'm ready," Sadi said from behind Whitehall, her hand stretched out. She was using her technique to distort their images. "Unleash again now; I can hide your poison. But we need to start moving."

  Whitehall complied and unleashed another wave of toxic madra through the air. The dark fumes were invisible. They ran around the desert, dodging the incoming dragon breaths. Meatball fired more poison feathers, distracting the three dragons.

  After a short while, Whitehall felt his poison entering the dragons. It ate through them like wildfire. The dragons collapsed, scales turning black, and some began to shed. Their hands gripped their neck as they struggled to breathe.

  "Finish them!" Meatball yelled.

  Whitehall and Sadi did not need another word. They rushed to the downed dragons, Sadi tossing one of her knives to Whitehall. He caught it and began stabbing and slicing the dragon's vitals. It was not long before all three dragons were dead.

  Whitehall sagged in relief, sitting on the sand. His last technique had nearly exhausted his reserves.

  "There's one more. A highgold!" Sadi yelled.

  Whitehall immediately stood back up in alert, his back against Sadi's as they eyed their surroundings.

  "I wouldn't worry about her anymore," a familiar lazy voice said from the tree lines.

  "Ah, you're back," Meatball said, landing on Ziel's head. She curled against his horns and went to sleep. Ziel did not even seem to care or notice.

  Sadi and Whitehall both sagged in relief, sitting on the sand against each other.

  "Could've come earlier," Whitehall remarked. "Would've been nice."

  If Ziel was disgusted or surprised by Whitehall's goldsign, his dead eyes revealed nothing.

  "I did," Ziel replied, throwing a dragon's head from behind his back.

  It was the highgold's, Sadi recognised.

  "Nice fight, by the way," Ziel said.

  Sadi and Whitehall stared at him wide-eyed. Zeal stared back with emotionless eyes.

  "You never praised us before," Sadi blurted.

  Ziel shrugged. "A good fight is a good fight. Many improvements needed, but...," he did not continue.

  "Were you watching us the whole time we were fighting?" Whitehall asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Ziel nodded in slow motion.

  "Why did you intervene, then?" Sadi asked, pointing at the highgold's decapitated head.

  "Rules of engagement," Ziel replied, and not elaborating further.

  The two gave him confused looks.

  Ziel sighed, muttering something under his breath before raising his voice so the two could hear. "If I intervene from the start, the dragons will send scared artists at my level after you to even out the playing field," he explained. "I only intervened because the highgold tried to join the fight."

  The two nodded but still looked bewildered.

  Ziel stood quietly, but the silence became awkward after a long while. "Follow me," he sighed and turned back to the forest.

  The Beast King knelt on one knee before Northstrider, Monarch of the Wastelands. As always, he buried his bitterness and resentment beneath an ironclad mask, hiding it from the Monarch during these meetings how his master had thought him.

  "I will require Underlords for the upcoming Uncrowned Tournament," Northstrider announced, his voice carrying an air of absolution, each word hanging like the weight of a decree.

  The Beast King's mind flickered with suspicion. This was unexpected. Sacred artists from the Wastelands had never been called upon for tournament participation, and Northstrider had never shown any interest in such affairs. But there was something in the Monarch's tone that made him pause—this could benefit the Wastelands if he played it right.

  He nodded slowly. "Yes, Monarch. I may have candidates in mind. If my instincts are correct, they will not bring shame upon you."

  Northstrider's gaze never wavered. His yellow dragonic eyes remained unblinking as he fixed his attention on the Beast King. He crossed his black arms against his chest. "Name what you want."

  The Beast King held back his smile. This was one of the very few things he liked about Northstrider. The Monarch of the Wastelands knew their ways. He may have held some sway over the sacred artists of the Wastelands, but he understands and accepts that they were not bound to him. And he always offers up a fair exchange. Sometimes, at least.

  "I have two disciples, both with great potential," The Beast King explained. "But they are currently only lowgolds."

  Silence stretched between them, ominous and heavy. Northstrider's expression remained unreadable, but his eyes narrowed slightly as the silence grew longer.

  "You may send them to Ghostwater," Northstrider finally said, his voice a low rumble. "I will be watching. If they impress me, I may make a deal with Malice to help them reach Underlord."

  "Thank you, Northstrider." The Beast King lowered his head further. He shrugged internally. He was about to send them to Ghostwater anyway without the Monarch's expressed permission. But having it was better than not.

  Northstrider unveiled a fraction of his spirit. It pressed down upon the Beast King with an invisible force, compelling him to lower his posture. The Beast King was a Herald, so he could have resisted if he wanted to—but he didn't. This was mere bravado, a show of dominance, and he had no intention of indulging it.

  "If, however, they do not live up to my expectations," the Monarch cautioned, his voice growing cold and dangerous. "Then I will hold you responsible."

  A flicker of annoyance flashed in his chest, and he pushed it down as soon as it appeared. Now, The Beast King was reminded of one of many reasons he did not like the Monarchs. Their threats. Their very, very uncalled-for threats. "Understood," The Beast King replied, his voice level.

  In an instant, the Monarch and their dark mindscape were gone. Now, he was kneeling to a tree in the forest of the wastelands.

  A small voice broke the silence.

  "Didn't know you prayed to trees," squeaked a young sacred beast mouse, darting about his feet.

  The Beast King glanced down, amused. "Thought I'd try something new." He bent down and placed a finger next to the mouse.

  The mouse scampered up his fingers and onto his body, making its way to his white beard. It tied thick hair strands around its little body and fashioned itself a tiny swing.

  "Yippee!" the mouse cheered, swinging back and forth, its small form bobbing with delight.

  The Beast King chuckled, "I'll take you back to your parents." He began walking back towards the cave, the little mouse happily swinging in his beard.