The Queen of Spades

The world is dark and full of monsters.

Especially in the middle of night, deep in the tangled recesses of Concordia, where few have traversed and even fewer have survived long enough to return to civilization.

Monsters that can sniff you out from miles away, monsters that stalk you in silence, consumed by hunger and tempered by patience. Claws that will tear apart whatever paper you happen to be wearing for armor and spill your blood all over the moss and stones that make up your future unmarked grave.

Monsters that are the stuff of bedtime stories--the kind that would hide under your bed and snatch your soul in the middle of the night, dragging your flailing corpse into the darkness, and sell your spare parts to hags for use in their potions and poisons.

Sometimes, the monsters are just a couple of girls with shovels, a few vials full of parasites, some backup, and a need to provide some security for their little forest cottage.

I can't see worth shit in the dark, so Hyperion was at the head of our party. “At least it's not raining,” she whispered cheerfully.

“Fuck you, fuck this, fuck everything,” I spat as I peeled myself off the damp mossy floor of the forest for what had to be the ninth time tonight.

The briarbane clicked her serpentine tongue. “I did tell you there was a log there.”

“You didn't fucking tell me that it was slick!”

As the words left my mouth, another figure toppled ass over head, landing inches away from me with a sickening crunch.

“Terribly sorry, ma'am,” it apologized meekly, face half-buried in the earth. “I'm so clumsy--it won't happen again, I promise!”

Oh, by Hromagh's hairy balls--this son of a bitch has been nothing but a hassle since we returned to Concordia.

The piece of shit writhing on the ground next to me used to be one of the Corone Rangers. When Hype, Boris, and I finally made our way back to the old abandoned fort that we used to call our home before our last jaunt in Salvar, we were surprised to discover that someone else had taken up residence. Turns out that the Rangers happened upon it while we were gone, reclaimed it, cleared out most of my experiments and notes, and stationed several of their ranks there to start fixing the place back up where I couldn't be bothered to.

His name was Mathias, and he was a relatively fresh face within the organization. I didn't bother to remember his rank once he told me. He was one of their scouts, recruited in the later periods of the Corone Civil War. Stationed near Underwood. Very good at navigation and remaining undetected (current episode notwithstanding). Didn't stand a chance when cornered by a two thousand-pound undead Skavian bear.

I reanimated him with a bit of cordyceps, and began grilling him about who he was and who else was with him. They weren't any trouble either, when they returned. Those Rangers are currently keeping watch inside my home, ready to ambush anyone else who might get any bright ideas.

It was Mathias who told me that the Ixian Castle was a day and a half's hike from the fort, if you took a straight line through the forest. Which turns out may have been a bad idea. But hey, considering the circumstances and what I could gain from the trip? Totally worth it. Probably.

Maybe.

A vine-wrapped hand appeared in my field of vision, and I took it. With a quick yank, Hyperion lifted me back up to my feet. I muttered a thanks as I brushed away bits of leaves and twigs that stuck to me.

“A little help please,” Mathias called out. “I'm having some trouble getting up.”

Hype was immediately at his side, picking him up by one hand first before twisting around to lift him by his armpits.

“Mr. Mathias, your arm is broken!” She hovered around him, lifting up his left arm and examining it like a child would a new toy. It was a clean break, halfway up his forearm. The ex-Ranger's hand flopped around in the air at unnatural angles.

“Oh dear,” he managed to say, more puzzled than anything else. “That's... That's unfortunate.”

Even in the scant light of the moon that managed to break through the canopy, I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “You're not mad at me or anything, are you, ma'am?”

“No, of course not.”

Mathias broke free of Hype's doting grasp and skulked next to me. “I-I didn't mean it, ma'am! I promise! I'll do better next time!”

The one thing I hated about my spores were that it rendered their victims with the attitude of a Golden Retriever mixed with a small child. I pushed him away. “You can still walk, you're alright.”

A pause, then the burning light of comprehension flashed as much as it could in his dead eyes. “Yes, yes I am!” There was a youthful exuberance in his voice. “I am okay!” Mathias bounded about the clearing, shouting to the high heavens that he was fine and I was fine and everything was going to be fine.

Behind me, Boris huffed in annoyance as he pawed his way over the log.

“You and me both,” I muttered.

Hyperion, ever the sensible one, interrupted the Ranger's celebratory dance. “Mr. Mathias, we really should bind your, ah, your arm.”

Mathias stopped in his tracks, and waved his broken limb around in the air. For all the shit I've seen in my lifetime, the image of his hand flapping about independent of his arm did a pretty good job turning my stomach.

“But the mistress says I'm fine, so I must be fine!”

Hype glanced at me, then back at our poor idiot guide, confusion flickering in her amber eyes as she desperately tried to work out a response.

Enough of this. “Where are we headed, Mathias?”

“Oh, right, yes!” The Ranger spun on his heels, facing away from us. “This way!”

The cordyceps zombie pointed in some general direction with half a forearm, as his fingers dangled precariously in the darkness.

Hype was at his side in a flash, one hand wrapped around a couple of sticks, the other holding a roll of bandages that she always seemed to pull out of nowhere. “Hang on, we'll fix this.”

With expert movements, she fashioned him a makeshift splint to keep his arm in one piece.

“There you are, Mr. Mathias! Good as new!” The briarbane stood back, admiring her handiwork before beaming at me.

The dead man had no idea what to make of this. It was as if he had been shown the most forbidden secrets of the universe. Whether or not the gods truly exist, the nature of magic in our world, the True-Name of everything in creation, what women want for dinner. How to temporarily set an arm so you can safely make it to the healer's.

“Mathias!” The snap of my fingers echoed throughout the small clearing like a crack of thunder.

The Ranger jumped, startled. “What? Oh! Right!”

“Which way to the Ixian Castle,” I hissed, my patience quickly fraying.

He pointed into the darkness with his busted hand. “This way, ma'am! Please don't be mad at me! We will make it by midday, I promise!”

And we were off.

I probably have a bit of explaining to do.

Why would I, Madison Freebird, want to show up at the front door of Ixian Castle?

Why would I, Madison Freebird, the Scourge of Eiskalt, the Plaguesinger, war criminal, the (reformed) Agent and (no longer) Heir of Pode, (retired) Left Hand of Lichensith Ulroke, the one responsible for Alerar controlling a stash of bioweapons, killer of one (1) Kyla Orlouge, walking houseplant and a litany of other possible accusatory titles want to waltz right up to the gates of those who I should consider my worst enemies?

Easy.

Ain't nobody home.

Place has been a ghost town for a while now.

Ever since that old glitterboy Sei Orlouge flapped his stupid fucking butterfly wings and disappeared off the face of the planet, the Ixian Knights have all but officially disbanded. The leaders and advisers kicked rocks and left the place to collect dust and moss. Their underlings found work elsewhere, or faded into obscurity entirely.

Rumors made their way across the four corners of Corone and whatever the fuck Akashima is calling itself nowadays that the place was ripe for the picking. Those who ventured into Concordia either came back empty-handed, or didn't come back at all. The ones who returned spread a fresh wave of tales, of the tricks and traps that waited patiently for those who would be stupid enough not to look for them. Various sorts of fun things, ranging from warning blasts of fire and electricity to malevolent spirits and beasts who protected the castle's most precious treasures.

I planned on running into exactly zero of these thing.

I wasn't looking for treasures and artifacts left behind by the Knights; I simply wanted their dead.

I vaguely remembered seeing a graveyard in the castle grounds when Aurelianus and I staged a short siege a couple years ago.

Sure, I could try and sneak my way into the castle proper, feel my way down to the catacombs and go for their most honored dead; but that wasn't necessary for my plans at all. Just needed a bit of the ol' rank and file, you know?

Maybe eventually I could return for some of the more illustrious names that got penned in their dead-book, but that's a long-term project. I needed to get my feet back on the ground first.

From what I've gathered from various texts and a couple sketches of the castle grounds I could get my grubby mitts on, the graveyard was off to the side. With all of the adventurers and thieves who already blundered their way through the place, most if not all of the smaller traps that were set up to protect the Ixians had to have already been tripped. Given that nobody is there anymore to reset them, I should have a free pass to come and go as I please.

Not that I planned on making more than one trip for now, of course.

The plan was exceedingly simple. Make my way through a gap in the wall, sneak my way to the burial plots, dig up several, and then have my special parasites consume their remains and turn them into Briarbanes much like Hyperion. Wash, rinse, and repeat until I have a sizable company, and then get the hell out of there.

After that, I could begin Phase Two of my latest project, but I'll divulge details on that when the time comes.