I Destroy the Empire

Chapter 5: Welcome to the Lair

Hours after the operation, the sun was just beginning to stain the smog of the common lands with a dirty, grey light.

This was the capital's underbelly, a place of gutters, cramped dwellings. You could smell the boiled cabbage and unwashed bodies.

But on one corner, there was a small, clean beacon known as the “Yunis Apothecary.”

It was a simple, two-storey building, its windows clean, its door painted a respectable blue.

Through the door, there was a small, tidy waiting room. Moving past the counter, you would come across a private backroom which was Kaelen’s actual examination office.

Against the far wall was a heavy oak bookshelf. But it wasn't a bookshelf.

A hand, Pyralis's, pressed a hidden latch. With a hiss of oiled hinges, the entire wall swung inward, revealing a flight of stone steps leading down into the dark.

He descended.

The cramped, herbal-smelling clinic above gave way to something else entirely.

The Lair.

It was a massive, magically lit subterranean chamber. Part high-tech laboratory, part alchemical workshop, part military command centre.

One wall was covered in weapons. Another held Kaelen's bubbling, glowing chemical station.

And the far wall... the far wall was a map.

A map of the Kingdom of Veridia.

On that map were five faces. Lord Commander Theron. Aelia Solara. Nefeli. Fenris Bloodfang. And Brog the Unbroken.

No one was crossed out.

Pyralis CInderfall stood before the map, his team assembled around him. He picked up a dagger, his new, metallic fingers glinting, then stared at the five faces of his betrayers.

“Right,” he said with a soft voice, the flirty facade gone, replaced by the cold, calculating mind of Seraph Ignis. “We've been quiet for nine months. It's time to make them remember us. The question is... who do we hit first?”

Pyralis scanned the room. The lair was in its usual downtime state.

 Lyra Ashwood was tipped back in a chair, thin legs kicked up on the command table, idly licking a red lollipop and flinching from time to time. She had gotten better at controlling the entity that possessed her.

On the far side of the room, Boudica ‘Bo’ Ironside in a simple tunic and was seated on a bar stool, his back to them, cleaning a massive Zweihänder. Kaelen and Elara looked far too comfortable slouched on the worn-out couch.

“So,” Pyralis said, his voice dripping with theatrical flair, “our little stunts over the past few weeks have been gaining a lot of attention.”

From the bar, Bo let out a deep, rumbling scoff. “Little? You’re not the one hauling unconscious knights into alleys every night, Seph.” He didn't even turn around, his deep voice vibrating with annoyance. He nodded toward Lyra. “Get a load of Seph.”

Pyralis’s eye twitched. “For the hundredth time, it’s Seraph— No! Goddammit! It’s Pyralis! Guys, come on!”

Elara muffled a laugh in a cushion. Kaelen just smiled.

Pyralis rubbed the bridge of his new nose, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. “Whatever. We need to focus. We have to figure out who Theron will send first. We’ve been poking the bear for weeks. Now, we're going to make it bite.”

He turned to a second map, a detailed layout of the capital city. On it were five noble estates, including Valgus’s and they were crossed out with a thick 'X'. The vertices formed a perfect, five-pointed star.

“Theron’s a chess player,” Pyralis said, his voice all business now. “He's not a brute like Brog. He’s a cold and arrogant bastard who thinks he’s three moves ahead of everyone. He’ll see this.” He traced the star on the city map.

Kaelen sat up, his analytical eyes gleaming. “The 'Star-Crossed Lover' plan. A bit on the nose, don't you think?”

“That’s the point,” Pyralis grinned, a flash of his old self. “It’s so on the nose, Theron will think he's the genius for figuring it out. Each noble we hit was famous for a tragic love affair. The public thinks 'The Shadows' are some kind of romantic vigilantes.”

“He’ll predict we’re hitting the centre,” Elara finished, now sitting up straight. She pointed to a location at the very heart of the star. “The old Astrea Warehouse.”

“Exactly,” Pyralis said. “He'll think it's our grand, theatrical finale. He’ll send the cavalry. But he’s too smart to send just one piece.”

Pyralis looked back at the main target board, at the two most brutish faces. “He’ll send one or two, but we’ll prepare for both. Brog as the hammer, with a garrison of knights to smash everything inside. But he’ll also send Fenris. The wolf. Theron knows we’re slippery. Fenris won't be there for the main fight. He'll be on the perimeter, waiting to hunt down anyone who escapes.”

Pyralis paused, letting the silence hang. His smile turned cold.

“And that’s the trap. Brog is a dumb distraction and I keep wondering why he’s not dead yet. The warehouse is a light show. Our real target... is the hunter.”

He turned to his alchemist. “Kaelen, I need the works. Your loudest, flashiest alchemy. Get with Lyra. I want her Echo to put on a real horror show. Make it big, make it loud, make it terrifying. I want Theron’s men to think they're walking into the maw of hell.”

Lyra pulled the lollipop from her mouth with a pop. A small, dangerous smile touched her lips.

Kaelen just nodded, already mentally drafting his shopping list.

Later, the underground lair felt suffocating. Pyralis stood on the flat roof of the clinic, breathing in the cold, smog-filled air of the common lands.

In the distance, the Royal Castle pierced the skyline, its towers a cluster of arrogant spears.

It was a monument to the life they'd stolen from him. Between him and that life was the great Wall, a massive, 100-foot-high line of stone that separated the glittering Capital from the grime of the lower districts.

Footsteps, light and familiar, sounded behind him. Elara. She came to stand beside him, leaning on the parapet.

“Why don’t you take a rest?” she said, her voice soft. “You’ve hardly slept these past few weeks.”

Pyralis let out a short, sharp laugh. “What are you talking about? Bo told me I sleep more than Lyra.”

Elara shot him a look, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. On the wyvern. On the way to a mission or from a mission. Don’t tell me that’s the only time you actually sleep?”

He didn't answer, which was answer enough. They stood in silence, watching the distant lights of the city.

“You were always such a good cook,” Pyralis said, his voice distant. “Remember when my mother would ask me to do the dishes before bed? But you were sleeping over, so I’d trick you into doing it by saying it was a 'secret mission'.”

Elara's expression soured. She hauled back and punched him, hard, in the arm.

CLANG.

The sound of her fist hitting his enchanted metal bicep was loud in the night air. She yelped, shaking her hand. “Ow! Shit, Pyralis!”

“Hey! Sorry, The fake flesh is a bit uncomfortable,” he laughed, rubbing the spot even though he hadn't felt it.

“I’m still mad about how much you used me back then,” she grumbled, but the anger was fake. “You taught me a lot, though...”

Her voice trailed off. A small, brown sparrow had landed on the railing nearby. Elara’s entire posture softened. The tough-as-nails thief who could slit a man’s throat without blinking held out a single, cautious finger.

The bird tilted its head. Then, with a small hop, it landed on her knuckle.

A genuine, unguarded smile lit up her face. It was a smile Pyralis hadn't seen in a very, very long time. He watched her, his own expression softening, the cold-blooded planner momentarily gone.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m sorry you had to become a thief at such a young age... because of your parents' deaths.”

Elara shook her head, her smile fading. The bird, sensing the change, flew off into the night.

“It wasn't because of my parents... Plus, the war killed yours, too.” She turned to face him, her hazel eyes serious. “It was actually because of you.”

Pyralis raised an eyebrow. “What?! What do you—”

“Pyralis!”

Kaelen’s voice echoed from the rooftop access door, sharp and urgent. “I need you to come see this.”

Pyralis thundered back down the stairs into the lair.

Kaelen, Lyra, and Bo were gathered around the central table. It was no longer a map. It was an armoury.

Kaelen had laid out a dozen glass vials filled with a thick, viscous purple liquid that smoked in the air. Lyra had placed a small, dark orb on the table which seemed to drink the light in the room, and whispers of the Echo emanated from it.

And next to it all, Bo had just placed a massive, iron bear trap, its teeth freshly oiled and sharpened.

Pyralis looked at the assembled tools. The bait for the warehouse. The ambush for the tannery.

He looked at his team. His real cohort.

A slow, cold smile spread across his new face.

“Let’s do this.”