Taria nodded. She was too hungry to be surprised by anything now.
The small woman smiled. "Good thing I’m the chef here then."
"You are?" Taria’s eyes lit up. "Are you going to give us food?"
The woman’s smile twisted. She drew the kitchen knife from her back and leapt forward, flashing the blade in front of Taria, who stumbled back in shock.
"And why should I?" the woman snapped. "I haven’t cooked in years! Who cares about my food? They all went to the tree to eat instead! Why should I cook?!"
She took another long swig from her bottle, grumbling to herself.
Taria raised her broken spear, unsure if she needed to defend herself. Even the chef wants to kill us? What is wrong with this place?
"What tree are you talking about?" Kaedros asked, brows raised.
"The tree in the garden, of course, silly!" she said with a sharp look. "You planted it, didn’t you?"
Then her expression twisted, and her black, pupil-less eyes narrowed.
"No... you didn’t! Why don’t you tell me you’re not HIM? You smell like—"
She stopped suddenly, tilted her head, and hissed like a cat. Her robes rustled as she flashed her knife again.
"He’s been for a while now, brooding the place up like that!" she said with a wild smile, looking over the group. "Maybe he’ll have some toys to play with now. Don’t break too fast!"
And with that, she melted into the shadows, leaving them alone again.
"What exactly is going on?" Rauk asked, getting to his feet. "Is she a mad woman?"
"I wish I knew," Kaedros muttered. He had never read or heard anything about this place in his entire life. And even in his previous life on earth he didn’t remember anything like that.
"They must all be mad here," Taria declared, gripping her broken spear.
"I wish that was a lie," said a new voice, and this time, all three flinched, swearing in surprise.
"I’m really getting tired of being sneaked up on," Kaedros grumbled. As a Dragon, there shouldn’t be a lot of people sneaking up on him but it’s been happening a lot since he arrived at the strange place.
"At least make some sound!" Taria snapped, stomping her foot.
"Clear your throat, even!" Rauk with a frown.
He was tall, a full head above Kaedros, though perhaps that was because of his helm. He was clad in seamless black armor, no joints, no links. It moved like liquid metal, smooth and perfect. Long, thin chains coiled around his torso like vines.
"How is your armor not bulky?" was the first thing Kaedros asked. Come to think of it, the man had made no sound at all approaching them wearing all that steel.
The second thing Kaedros felt was fear.
It lasted only a second, but it hit like a storm. A cold, dreadful thing settled over him, locking his breath in his throat.
It reminded him of Dragons. Not like him. Dragons with real power that soar the Draconic City.
He took a step back, wary now.
Taria’s jaw clenched. That pressure... she knew what it meant. She had lived in the slums long enough to recognize real danger, this man was lethal.
Rauk felt cold sweat slide down his back. It was a primal fear, the kind the weak felt in the presence of the overwhelmingly strong.
"The armor was made by an expert of the craft," the man said. His voice was dry, as if he hadn’t used it in years. "Once worn, it cannot be taken off."
"That sounds awful," Taria replied. "Not being able to remove it. Why would anyone agree to that?"
"So I will always be ready to fight."
Kaedros wanted to ask why, but held his tongue. What business was it of his? They needed food. They needed a way out, not meddling in the affairs of the strange place and people.
But the man seemed to read his silence.
"Long ago, when the sky was always brewing with storms... an armor worn to sleep could save your life. This one resists mana. To a certain degree. It saves my life and my master’s."
"Still sounds terrible," Taria muttered.
And lonely, she thought. How could someone live like that? But then again, wasn’t she doing the same thing? Living just to survive another day?
Kaedros frowned. He understood that. In the Draconic, you had to be aware of everything. That’s why he cast spells faster than anyone else, why his senses were honed razor sharp. It was because that was the only way he could survive.
But maybe he couldn’t truly relate. The man before them wasn’t hiding, he was ready for whatever was to come.
Hadn’t I always lived like that? Rauk wondered. Always ready to run, always looking for a hole to vanish into. Just surviving.
All of them were, in their own ways.
"Is it terrible?" the man said softly. "I thought it was... good times."
Kaedros coughed. "Wouldn’t call mine good times."
"That aside," the man said, and it was strange, his voice came from the smooth helmet face, as though the armor itself spoke.
"Welcome, Candidates, to Throne of Ruinlight! It’s been so long we thought we were lost in the sea of time."
"You three... who smell of different things."
"Smell?" Taria wrinkled her nose. "Do we stink that bad?"
"I smell the blood of the divine, thin, but undeniable. Another carries the scent of a royal line. And there’s a warrior of old among you. And one of you... smells of the impossible."
Kaedros was baffled, but not surprised. Ever since entering this place, nothing had come with a straight answer.
"What are you talking about?" he asked. Maybe this time, he’d get a real explanation.
"You’ll know in due time."
Kaedros nearly rolled his eyes. Of course.
"And your name?" Taria asked.
"My name is Thalso." the armored man replied. "And in the absence of my master, I rule this place in his name."
"Where’s your master?" Rauk asked.
But Kaedros was already thinking the more important question. "Who is your master?"
Because if this man served him...just how powerful would such being be?
Greylord simply shrugged in response to both questions. Then he turned to Taria with a hint of amusement.
"How about we see... if you’ll eat today?"