The highway that Malacath led them down was wide enough for six lanes of traffic, but the Seventh Seal marched down the entire width of the highway in formation, their measured tread beating a modest thunder in the city streets.

Aldric had warned Malacath when they got underway.

“I don’t much like the idea of killing civilians, but I will if I have to. No quarter’s been called, and I’m not taking it back until your demon-addled king lies dead. If civilians get in our way, we’ll have no choice but to cut our way through them.”

Malacath didn’t much like the idea. To Aldric, the people of the capital were possible obstructions, but he’d protected them. Watched over them. Fought for them, and protected them. The men and women under his command likely felt the same. So he prayed to the Phoenix that they would stay in their homes and not raise a fist to the Seventh Seal. He prayed for a clean path to the Obsidian Palace, and he prayed for a quick resolution to this madness.

It seemed as though the Phoenix wasn’t taking requests, today.

Alysia spoke to Daveth as they passed the sprawl of corpses from their last encounter.

“This does not bring honor to our swords, Lord Commander.” She complained. “There is no honor in killing civilians.”

Daveth nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s our riflemen that’re doing the bloodletting, not you.”

“That distinction does not.” She immediately replied sourly.

“I thought not.” Daveth muttered. “And I agree. But they stand between us and the palace, so we have to do it.”

“I disagree.” Alysia disputed.

Daveth rubbed his chin as he eyed side streets and windows, probing for signs of the next ambush.

“You could try shouting that we’re only after the head of their king and that if they want to survive, they should stay in their homes.” He offered.

Alysia made a sour face, but Malacath, who was riding near Daveth, nodded.

“That’s not a terrible idea, commander. We could enchant a stone with the message and set it to repeat as we march to the palace. It might cut down on civilian casualties.”

“It’ll also draw every god-rotted army squad right to us.” Aldric replied.

“Better we fight soldiers than men and women with pitchforks and kitchen knives.” Malacath disputed.

“Normally I’d think that was a great idea.” Aldric replied. “In fact, it is a great idea. But half the men are wounded and hurting. With no magical healing, some may not fight ever again. It’s a basket of hard choices we’ve gotta carry.”

“Let’s stop here and rest a bit, Cap.” Daveth suddenly suggested. “Nobody’s coming. Let’s tuck in a little food, change some bandages, sharpen our swords.”

Aldric shot Daveth a baffled look. “You think this is some field trip we’re on? We’re triple red. We’re in enemy territory. We could be ambushed at any moment.”

Daveth nodded. “Half an hour.”

Aldric ran a hand through his hair irritably. “Half an hour.”

There was a shuffling of feet and horse hooves on the paved street as the men and women of the Seventh Seal discussed in low tones who would eat while the others would stand watch. Rations were distributed from the Tross.

Daveth moved over to Malacath. “Tell me about this place.” He invited.

“Huh?” Malacath blinked, startled.

Daveth gestured to the surroundings. “This city. Tell me about it.” He pointed to a massive building down the street. “What’s that used for?”

Malacath gave him a baffled look, but shrugged. “That’s the Citizens Authority building. Births, deaths, marriages and the like are recorded there.”

The building in question was octagonal in design, rising up to several floors in height. There were statues of elven men and women holding books on the roof. Daveth nodded, not bothering to offer an opinion.

“That one?” He asked, selecting a different building.

“City Watch.” Malacath replied to the squat stone building. Daveth nodded.

“You can always tell. City Watch buildings are always depressing to look at, no matter how prettied up.”

Malacath blinked at that. “You’re kidding, right?”

Daveth shook his head. “Nope. You ride with us long enough, you’ll see what I mean. They always look like someone would have rather climbed a rope than designed ‘em. Bel Arib, Einsamkeit, Begierde, Tannit, Nauders, Thud, Garen’s Wall, Doran... They all look the same. Depressing.”

“I don’t know those places.” Malacath replied.

“Ride with us when this is all over and you just might.” Daveth affirmed. He glanced down at the elf. “You decide, yet?”

Malacath blinked at the unexpected question.

“Decide what?”

Daveth let out a breath, squatted, and picked up a sliver of stone from the paving. He bounced it on his palm a few times.

“Whether you’re gonna ride out of this with us when it’s over, or stay here.” Daveth explained. “I get it; this is your home, your country. You want to protect it. What happens when the madman is slain, though? No leadership, this city could turn to chaos. Someone needs to be able to maintain order.” He paused. “On the other hand, you’ve promised to accompany us. Be part of the Seventh Seal. You’ve taken the oath, you’ve paid your dues, you’re one of us.”

He flung the pebble down the street. “But I can't help but wonder if you’ll leave when we do.”

“You think I should stay?” Malacath asked.

The giant shrugged. “Not for me to say.”

Malacath nodded. The man was right. It was entirely up to Malacath.

“Assuming we make it out alive and sane.” Malcath complained.

Daveth nodded. “That too.”

*****

The capital city was built in the center of a cluster of low hills, so when the Seventh Seal topped one of those hills, they could see right down into the central palace. Or, where it should have been. Where the so-called Crystal Palace used to be was a wavering opaque sphere that shimmered in a way that made it look gelatinous.

“What the fuck is that?” Daveth remarked to nobody in particular.

“I’m pretty sure we found what we were looking for.” Aldric remarked drily on the heels of Daveth’s question.

The center of the city crawled with patrols. Daveth could see elves in much the same attire as Malacath and his troops marching in formation.

“If we get into the thick of it, it’s going to be hard to tell who is who.” Daveth muttered.

“We can hang back and attack from range with our spells if you like, Commander.” Malacath suggested.

Aldric shook his head. “No, we’re going in there together. We’ll stick to the planned formations.” He paused. “Watch me for the formation calls. Depending on how we hit them, we might get sandwiched between several patrols.”

“Oh, how I wish we had Edwin and his crew.” Daveth muttered dolefully.

“Edwin?” Malacath asked.

“We used to have an engineering crew. They managed our crank guns and cannons.” Daveth replied.

“Cannon, you uncivilized lout. The plural of cannon is cannon. You don’t add on an ‘s’ like you would for a pair of socks.” Aldric corrected.

“Doesn’t matter at this point.” Daveth shot back, and Aldric frowned bitterly.

Malacath blinked. “What’s a cannon?”

Daveth and Aldric exchanged looks.

“A cannon is like a rifle, except it’s much larger.” Daveth explained and dipped into his weapon pouch and pulled out one of the metal slugs that had been fired by the Shaper Golems. Aldric gave the metal lozenge a startled look, and then looked up at Daveth.

“They fire slugs like these. Good for knocking down walls or blowing up ranks of infantry.” Daveth explained, as he returned the lump of steel to his weapons pouch. “A crank gun is also like a rifle, except that it can fire over and over again, as long as you keep cranking a wheel.” Daveth moved his hand to demonstrate. “It’s the ultimate equalizer. Mages can’t stand against it. Cavalry can’t stand against it. Bowmen can’t stand against it. The only thing it’s weak against is hard cover, like stone walls and earthworks. It’s cut through a wooden palisade or fence like a legion of angry lumberjacks.”

Malacath grew more and more pale as Daveth extolled the virtues of these weapons.

“And... these are things you go to war with?” Malacath asked, aghast.

“We used to.” Daveth replied. “We lost them in a campaign ... a long time ago.” He admitted.

“How did you lose such fearsome weapons?” Malacath asked.

“A lava demon.” Aldric complained. “Lost the cannon, the crank guns, and the entire engineering crew to run them with one hot gush of lava.”

Daveth held out his hand and moved it in a slow arc from left to right. “Brrrrrrt.” He imitated the sound of the crank gun. “And they all come tumbling down.”

Daveth blinked in a sudden thought.

“Aldric, are we still lugging around the gunpowder for those things in the Tross, or did we lose it with Edwin’s team?”

Aldric blinked at the question, and then lowered his head in thought. “We... might have a barrel. I’m not sure.”

“Malacath, get the quartermaster up here.” Daveth waved. Malacath gave him a baffled look, but nodded.

“Just so you know, the gunpowder they use in cannon is a bit different from the kind used in the rifles we got from the Shapers.” Aldric warned. Daveth waved his hand dismissively.

“I was thinking we tear apart one of our chains and mix the links in with the gunpowder. Run a long fuse, send it rolling down the hill into one of those pretty formations.” Daveth replied with a smirk. “Boom.”

“That’s downright savage.” Aldric replied. “Also a waste of resources. Gunpowder’s dearly expensive.”

“Yeah, well, it’s dead weight without a cannon to use it.” Daveth sniped back.

The quartermaster arrived on the front lines. He was short, wide, and his hair was steel-gray. He looked as though he was capable of picking up a weapon and wading into the middle of any fight, but he was plagued with arthritis and could no longer sit a horse properly.

“Daveth and I were talking. Do we still have gunpowder for the cannon?”

The quartermaster nodded. “Still got a barrel. Been looking for a way to sell it off, given the chance. Haven’t found an opportunity and I’m loath to leave it by the wayside.”

Daveth grinned at that.

“Fantastic news. Bring it up here; and a twenty-foot length of chain.”

The quartermaster nodded and hobbled back to the Tross.

Daveth turned to Malacath. “I’mma have you separate the links of the chain. We’ll tuck them into the barrel of powder and roll it on down the hill at yonder patrols.”

“Fuse, Daveth.” Aldric reminded him.

Daveth barked a laugh. “Malacath can shoot it with fire. We’re fine there.”

A handful of men from the tross showed up with the barrel, which was wide and squat.

“Damn. If we roll this down the hill, it runs the chance of breaking.” Daveth muttered.

“It never rains but it pours.” Aldric remarked with a smirk.

“Asshole.” Daveth shot back, and spotted a carriage tucked against the side of a building.

He dragged it over to where the men waited, then tore it down until it was more wagon-like, treating off the doors, ripping the roof off, casually tearing away large portions of the supports until it was simply a flat bed with wheels. Malacath goggled at the giant’s limitless strength as he worked.

Daveth cracked open the barrel and dumped the chainlinks inside, re-sealed the barrel, then gave it a vigorous shake to distribute the chainlinks inside. He roped the barrel to what was left of the carriage, then bound the front axle to keep it from turning.

“Malacath: I’ll give this a nudge to send it rolling down there. When it reaches the area with the patrols, hit it with fire. Can you do it?”

Malacath nodded. “No problem at all. What will it do?”

“A little mayhem, a little chaos. Should make things easier for us when we get down there.”

“I’ve got an idea of my own.” Aldric cut in.

Daveth looked to his captain expectantly.

“Add in our barrels of lamp oil.” Aldric suggested, and Daveth laughed.

“Even better.”

The barrels of oil were strapped on, and Daveth lined up the cart and gave it a gentle nudge, letting gravity take over.

The cart rattled down the street, bouncing and swaying as it carried its cargo down the hill.

It hit the median, bounced away, nearly tipped over, righted itself, swayed from side to side, and careened down the hill towards a patrol of soldiers that could be seen pointing at the cart with their swords.

“Do it.” Daveth commanded, and Malacath raised his hand.

Three fiery bolts as long as crossbow quarrels launched from his fingertips and hurtled down the hill after the wagon as the men caught the wagon and hauled it to a stop.

The explosion didn’t sound particularly impressive, but the massive bloom of fire that splashed everywhere and mushroomed upward in a bell of black smoke made up for it. Bodies lay strewn about the ground, those that managed to avoid the shrapnel were drenched in flaming oil and ran in strange, confused patterns trailing fire as they ran, until they collapsed.

“Well, they know we’re here.” Daveth remarked cheerfully, picking himself up of the ground and mounting his horse. “No time like the present!” He launched himself forward, urging his horse to a full gallop.

He drew Zakal, the polearm he’d discovered underneath an ancient city in faraway Bel-Arib, and laughed as the wicked blade caught alight, trailing ribbons of fire.

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the Seventh Seal desperately trying to follow after him, but a part of him didn’t care. He was one with his horse, one with the halberd, a massive engine of destruction thundering down towards the scattered and panicked troops.

He launched himself from the back of his horse and slammed into one of the elves with enough velocity to crush the elf’s ribcage with the force of his impact. He lunged at the next elf, a half-ton of rage and martial fury. He slammed the spear through an elf’s chest; the poor bastard didn’t have a chance to scream as all his flesh blasted off him in a furious gout of flame. Daveth spun around, jerking the blade out of the chest of the fallen soldier and whipping it around to decapitate another elf.

Daveth stamped forward threateningly, and a ring of fire boiled out from his feet with each step.

“Come on!” he yelled, delirious with battle-lust. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Three elves struggled to their feet and drew their swords, Daveth pounced forward and slammed into them, bowling them off their feet with his sheer mass alone. Daveth ducked down to grab one of the elves just as a firebolt flashed over his head from behind. He hurled the elf into the murky black sphere that encapsulated the palace and spun to deal with the new threat.

Several elves were clustered together, hands raised as they chanted their spells. Daveth, wholly lost in the need for combat, launched himself at them, spear thrust out towards them.

He picked one of the elves up and used them to knock the others akimbo, and then, picking them up by their arms and legs, hurled them one at a time into the murky black orb.

As he picked the last one up, the elf screamed.

“No! Please, no! Not there! Don’t do it! I surrender!”

Daveth paused, and lifted the elf up to look into her terrified face.

“You surrender?” He asked, and she nodded frantically.

“Yes! I surrender completely!” she screamed. “I swear I’ll do anything, just don’t throw me-”

She was cut off as Daveth hurled her back towards where the Seventh Seal were finally catching up to him.

“Missed the party, Aldric!” Daveth yelled.

“Your happy-asshole charge was enough for us to take out the rest of them while you were having fun.” Aldric reported. “You can thank me for saving your life later.”

Daveth tucked away the spear in his weapon pouch and eyed the scattered bodies, then the sobbing elf that cowered on the pavement.

“She seemed awfully terrified of whatever that barrier is.” Daveth reported. “Figure she can tell us what she knows of it.”

Aldric’s face twisted into a complicated expression. “I did call for no quarter.”

“Before we head into the blacvk, I’d like to know a bit about what to expect.” Daveth disputed.

“You’re learning.” Aldric observed, and swung down from his horse.

“Alright, lady. Tell me what’s beyond that barrier.” Aldric urged.

The elven woman sobbed uncontrollably.

Aldric turned to Malacath. “Calm her the fuck down. Think we’re going to need to go in there. I want to know whatever we can about it before we do.”

*****

The orb was a gateway into the demonic realm of Phlegethos, it seemed. The entire Crystal Palace was already there. It was only a matter of time before the entire capital city was brought into the realm, and eventually the entirety of Therannia.

It wasn’t safe to go in there, however. It was difficult to breathe, magic didn’t work very well, and demons ran wild, hunting the unwary. Going in there without magical protection given by the Mad King Malachi was a death sentence. Phlegethos was a nightmare made reality.

“Clearly you haven’t seen what’s outside the city.” Daveth muttered sarcastically.

“So how do we collapse the bubble?” Aldric asked curiously, with an acid look towards Daveth.

The woman gave him a baffled look. “Collapse it?” She asked vapidly.

“Don’t be vague.” Aldric replied. “Time’s wasting and there’s killing to be done. Tell us how to undo all this.... shit that your King has done.”

“Undo...” She muttered wonderingly.

Daveth folded his arms and eyed the surroundings for any other patrols.

“It’s a guess, but is that okay?” She asked, turning a pleading gaze on Aldric and Malacath.

Aldric gestured wordlessly.

“I think it’s like an onion. Layers and layers of magics.” She offered hesitantly. “Destroy the weather towers out beyond the city. That’s the first layer. There’s six towers here in the city. Collapse those next. That should weaken the barrier and make it harder to ... harder for those ... on the other side to maintain it.”

“Like fuck am I going back out there.” Daveth spat angrily, and she cringed away from the massive warrior.

“Do you know where the towers are, outside the city?” Malacath asked gently. She shook her head. “There should be maps in the Citizen’s Authority building. I only know of a few... but there are ...” She shrugged. “Dozens. Maybe more.”

Daveth pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“Fucking fuck.” He muttered. He dropped his hand. “What if we just drop the towers here in the city?”

She shook her head. “They keep the barrier around the city. Drop the barrier, and .... everything out there can get in here.”

Daveth let out a long sigh. He looked to Aldric. “I’m not sure the Seal can take another pounding, boss. Those things are out there, and they’re waiting for us.”

Malacath spoke up, then.

“It’s a simple operation. Me and my men will get the maps and head out there. We’ll be the ones to bring down the towers.”

Aldric and Daveth eyed the elf. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I’m certain I do not.” Malacath replied, but waved his hand. “But it needs to be done, no?”

“Worst idea ever.” Daveth muttered.

“My men and I will punch a hole through the monstrosities and topple the towers. Once that’s done, that’ll be your cue to destroy the towers here. Once that’s done, we march on Malachi Sunstorm and put an end to this madness.” Malacath stated decisively.

Daveth shook his head. “I think we should just march in there” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the queasy-looking black mass behind him that nobody wanted to look at for too long, “Kill the king, destroy whatever’s keeping this barrier up, and be home in time for dinner and a hot bath.”

The elf woman shook her head. “You won’t survive long enough to reach him. Here, the bubble is only as big as the palace, but inside, it’s huge. It’s a long march to the castle, there are demons everywhere, and the air is poison. You wouldn’t last ten minutes.”

“It seems like either way we’ll have to go in there.” Daveth muttered. He looked to Malacath. “Can you make these stronger?” He held out his handkerchief. “Even when we bring down the barriers, we’ll have to punch in and kill Malachi. That means we’ll have to wander that demon realm. If the air is poison, we’ll need to breathe.”

Malacath took the handkerchief, and nodded. “I can do that.”

Daveth looked down at the elven woman. “Will you help Captain Malacath in bringing down the towers outside of the barrier?”

She looked to Daveth, to Aldric, and finally to Malacath. She swallowed and then nodded. “I can do that.”