The morning soon came, but despite Pilos’ assurances, his promised guide hadn’t arrived.

    “Wait just a little longer, King Leon, I’ll have him fetched,” Pilos promised.

    Leon, already aware of how much time was passing—half of the time he had to return to Artorion had already been burned—was reluctant to give him extra time to find this guide, but without knowing enough about the city, he thought that finding a guide on his own would take too long. Waiting an extra few hours, in his mind, would be worth it if it saved him time on the ascent up the Lance.

    After making his displeasure known with his expression alone, Leon gave Pilos the extra time he asked for.

    However, by the time noon came, no guide had been presented to him. With growing frustration, Leon went to Pilos to thank him for his hospitality, and to inform him that it was time for him to attempt the ascent either with only his party or with whatever guide he could scrounge up on short notice. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

    Pilos, looking panicked, accepted his decision, but at least told him where the guide he spoke of could be found, and offered to have one of his Red Sashes escort him there. Leon found it a little odd that he knew where the guide was yet couldn’t get him to the estate, but in the end, didn’t press the harried-looking Azadan for too many details, and simply accepted the man’s offer to have him taken to the guide instead of bringing the guide to him.

    Regardless of how the meeting went, though, he and his people had to begin their ascent. Artorion remained stable, but that could change at any time.

    ---

    “What a seedy place,” Cosmo muttered as they laid their eyes on their destination, and Leon couldn’t help but agree.

    Their Red Sash guard was a fifth-tier mage and not particularly talkative, but he escorted them quickly through the streets, taking them from the higher-class district in the center of the city to the chaotic outskirts, where the streets were dirty, narrow, and crowded. The people didn’t look particularly wealthy, wearing mostly plain clothes with faded dye, but here and there Leon saw an armed and armored party heading somewhere—usually east, toward Kavad’s Lance.

    The specific place their Red Sash took them to was a rather rundown building mostly made of timber, though with a stone foundation. The windows were small, diamond-shaped panes of dirty, nearly opaque glass held in wooden frames, through which Leon couldn’t believe much light passed. Above the door was a sign devoid of any words but depicted some fierce-looking animal with a lance thrust through the eye. Hardly any enchantments could be sensed coming from the building itself, though Leon could sense some fairly powerful auras inside. The only one that caught his eye was the shaky aura of an eighth-tier mage.

    “‘Seedy’?” Alix responded with some incredulousness. “I’d say it has character. I like it!”

    Drily, the Red Sash said, “Maybe save some judgment for after you meet the shitstains inside?”

    Alix shrugged while Gaius spared the man a quick glare. Jumping ahead of any potential problems, Leon said to the Red Sash, “What is this place?”

    “It’s obviously a bar,” Alix stated.

    “It’ll either be the best one in town,” Anna added, “or one of the worst.”

    “It’s the latter,” the Red Sash dispassionately remarked. “On average, the boys have to handle no less than twelve murders a year in this establishment alone. The limpwrist who owns the place serves uncrushed lanceberries, which can make grown men act like my youngest when she wants a sweet.”

    Leon cocked an eyebrow, but it was Valeria who asked the question on his mind.

    “What are lanceberries?”

    The Red Sash briefly scowled before answering. “Wild berries from the mountains around the Lance. Good to make you forget your troubles for a time, but they can make even the stoutest foot slip and the strongest hand lose its grip.”

    “Are they tasty, at least?” Alix leadingly asked.

    “As tasty as tixen shit,” the Red Sash stated.

    Leon snorted, not needing to know what a tixen was to get the idea. “Let’s lay off the berries, then, and find our guide.”

    “Really?” Alix unseriously complained. “Not even one?”

    Leon spared her a cheeky smirk before giving the Red Sash an expectant look.

    Red Sash spared Alix a quick, judgmental look before heading into the bar, Leon and his entourage right behind him.

    The inside of the bar was just as dingy as Leon was expecting, without much light making it through the windows and the magic lanterns being wholly inadequate to light up the wide serving space within. About a dozen round tables large enough to seat four were around the main floor, and enough space at the bar itself for twenty people, though only a handful were present at this relatively early time. The barkeeper himself looked up as they walked into his nearly empty place, pausing a moment in his rather futile attempt to clean the bar’s surface with a dirty rag, but he conspicuously averted his gaze and went back to what he was doing when he caught sight of the red sash.

    Red Sash looked around as they entered, then pointed to what looked to be little more than a dark spot in a corner. However, once his eyes settled on it, that spot resolved into the form of a man lying face-down on the table he sat at, his forehead resting against his forearms. On the table were three bowls, two empty and one partially filled with what looked like dark blue cherries. He wore plain, dark clothing, with equally dark hair spilled from his head. Leon, as he inspected this dirty, quite disheveled man, realized that his was the eighth-tier aura he’d been sensing.

    “He was deep into the bush last night,” Red Sash said as he made for this apparently sleeping man.

    “Those berries must be potent if they can affect a mage of his power,” Leon observed.

    “They’ll affect anyone and everyone,” Red Sash critically said.

    When they reached the table, Red Sash, without any warning, slammed his hands down on the table.

    “Wake up, stonebrain! Some folk want to climb!”

    The man hardly even moved, but Leon heard a muted, “Fugg off...” from behind his folded arms. “Not climbing today...”

    Red Sash gave Leon an apologetic look. “Usually, it’s almost impossible to get this mountain mind back into town, not the other way around.”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Leon said with a wave of his hand. A few sparks of silver-blue lightning flit from his fingertips and gave the guide a quick jolt, causing him to jerk off the table with a rather baleful glare.

    “The fuck...” he whispered without too much heat.

    Leon shrugged. “Unless there are any special things we have to prepare, we’re ready.”

    “Good, good, good...” Grandin repeated as he led the way out of the bar, seemingly only a little unsteady on his feet.

    “Are you sure we shouldn’t wait a little while for you to sober up?” Valeria sharply inquired.

    “I’m fine,” Grandin said reassuringly. “The lower bits of the Lance aren’t dangerous, and I’ll be climbing steady by the time we get anywhere worth going.”

    “You don’t inspire confidence,” she responded.

    “You’ll see when we get there,” Grandin stated.

    “I’d rather you said it now,” Valeria shot back. “You should see to your demeanor, it’s unbefitting of someone guiding a King.”

    “Your King seems fine with it,” Grandin stated.

    “My husband enjoys informality,” Valeria growled. “That doesn’t give you license to be informal until it has been given.”

    Leon laid a hand on Valeria’s shoulder as Grandin said, “Ah, you’re married, then? Well, good for you both.”

    “Be careful, Grandin,” Leon said, cold killing intent leaking into his aura that had Grandin, and many of the throngs of people that surrounded them once out onto the street, stumbling. “I can ignore disrespect toward me. Disrespect toward any of my wives is another thing entirely.”

    Grandin laughed, but after a moment, seemed to realize that Leon wasn’t joking. “Right. Ehh, yeah. Ok. Apologies. I’ll, eh, be more respectful, then. Your King and Queenliness.”

    The rest of the way to the pavilion from which the ascent up the mountain began was passed in silence. As they drew closer to the pavilion, they passed more and more shops and stalls hawking wares claimed to help on the mountain, but Grandin passed them all. He was apparently confident that they wouldn’t need supplies.

    Only when they finally reached the pavilion did he speak again.

    “All right,” he said as he led them to one of the quieter corners of the pavilion, “there are a few rules we have to follow when climbing the mountain. They should be easy enough, but if you break any of them, I won’t be blamed for your inevitable trip down an Aesii.

    “The first rule is the easiest: don’t fly. Flying out there is an awful idea. The storm around the mountain will tear most mages to shreds, and only gets more intense the further up you go. There are a ton of other flying beasts on the mountain or those floating around it, and they’ll love nothing more than to snap up some foolish human who thinks they can just fly past everything.”

    “Sounds almost like this whole thing was designed to be a challenge,” Alix stated as she stared at the gargantuan pillar of stone they were soon to begin scaling.

    “Maybe it was,” Grandin said with a shrug. “The lance at the top had to get there somehow.”

    “And still there, apparently,” Leon said. “Hard to imagine something strong enough to keep mountains flying through the air for tens of thousands of years not being snatched up by some Basileus or Anax by now.”

    “Aye,” Grandin agreed. “Take that as a lesson, then. This mountain’s fucking dangerous, so keep these here rules in mind. Speaking of...

    “Rule number two: stay in a group. No one goes off alone. You gotta piss, have a piss buddy there with you. Lots of things on this mountain will be watching us, ready to pick off any stragglers.

    “Rule three: do what I tell you to do. If I don’t tell you to do anything, then just do as I do.

    “We keep these three rules in mind, we’ll all come out of this alive.”

    “And with one less monster lairing upon it,” Leon pointedly stated. “Why don’t you tell us a bit more about this thing we’ll be hunting? Where does it live? What kind of other threats should we expect to face when running it down?”

    Grandin scowled and averted his eyes for a moment before answering. “It doesn’t live on the Lance, but one of these other mountains...” He looked up at the sky searchingly for a moment. “Can’t see it now or I’d point it out. Fucker’s territorial, so no other beasts around it. Sometimes some people bring fancy shit onto the mountain, and leave it there when they die. Sometimes, that fancy shit makes for obstacles unto themselves. With these numbers, we won’t have to worry about other beasts that much, but this fancy shit might be problematic.”

    Leon nodded, preparing himself for manmade threats in addition to threats of a more monstrous variety.

    “You lot look strong, though. I wouldn’t worry about it,” Grandin finished.

    “What about other climbers?” Anna asked. “There’s a bunch around. Won’t they get in our way?”

    “Nahh,” Grandin dismissively replied. “The mountain’s mostly treated like a challenge, but not something that can actually be overcome. Most people rarely leave the bottom regions. Few ever make it to the cloud boundary. We’re all largely here for the same thing, so most people will support each other on the mountain. Unless it’s a competition year, then people can get nasty.”

    “What competition?” Anna further asked.

    “Once a decade, the city will hold a competition to see who can climb the highest. Mostly for bragging rights, but a lot can be gained on the mountain, and some of the city’s haul will be put up as a prize.”

    “There’s treasure up there?” Alix inquired, her eyes practically glittering.

    “Just what’s been left by the dead,” Grandin explained. “There are things that can be grown and harvested up there. Even a couple Hesperidic Apple groves, if you can believe it. This is what’s put up for those competitions. Along with a huge prize in coin. Last competition six years ago had a prize of five million khosrids. Not much for even Strategoi to get excited about, but still a great sum for average folk. If the next competition started today, you’d have more people being... competitive.”

    “Lucky us, then,” Leon stated. “So. You’re eager to see this monster dead. I’m eager to get to the top. Shall we get going?”

    Grandin grinned and turned toward the mountain. “I’m coming for you, you mud eater.” Without another word, he began striding toward the edge of the pavilion. Leon and his party fell in behind him.

    It was time to climb a titanic mountain.