Smugglers and Dungeons!

They sprinted down the halls. There was no fighting the guards now. No, the head of the Commander was still dripping blood.

 Icarus refused to drop it. To let it be a distraction.

This man had insulted him. He had made him feel small. The horselord was going to do what he promised.

"Left!" Ingrid yelled, as she ran behind Basila and Icarus, taking out an axe from a rune.

It was as big as her. But she still twirled it around as if it were a feather.

Then she smiled.

"Wait! You can't leave her behind!" Basila yelled.

Icarus just shrugged.

"She's strong. We'll only get in the way," he said, taking a left turn. He could see it, the entrance to the canalization! Soon, they could get outside!

"But!"

Just as Basila was ready to protest some more, she heard it.

Screams.

None of them came from Ingrid.

The elven lady gulped.

"Is… is Ingrid really a Viking?" Basila asked. How was she going to compete with someone like that?

"Yep," Icarus told her.

Oh, he could have let his aura control him, but if one let their power control them, then they weren't in possession of it, now, were they?

Besides, Ingrid and Basila would never fall in love with some scheming scumbag! No, Icarus decided, not even realizing that this was scheming as well, it was better to be himself.

To get the slave runes off his clan. Then off the entire country. Marry his girls, get Basila's family to safety.

He sighed; his fingers sleek with the Commander's blood.

Oh, put like that, it was easy…

He looked at the dirty water. He was sure that they'll need deworming soon.

"Basila!" He yelled, taking a hold of her before she could guess exactly how they were going to run away. Pulling her closer and closer, until their noses were touching. "I'm glad I met you!"

The elven girl blinked.

Icarus leaned away and jumped into the water. Refusing to steal something so precious.

Letting the current wash them away.

0000

"I can't believe you dumped us in the sewers!" Basila yelled, as she attempted to clean her face. At least her face.

 Oh, she was going to become riddled with pimples!

"Well…" Icarus said, as he looked around. Ok, they were outside. But that didn't mean that the guards weren't going to hear Basila's yelling.

He spared a thought on Ingrid. Said a silent prayer for her.

He grabbed Basila by the hand.

"Come on! We have to go to the dungeon! We need the core," right now, his clan had to be the most important thing on his mind!

They had been under the slave runes for the past fifteen years! Longer than he was even alive, even, for some of them! If he didn't get rid of the runes, then they were soon going to end up undead!

As Lichs!

Icarus let that fear spur him on. Only for Basila to dig her feet in the mud and look at him.

"Do you… know where the dungeon is?" She asked him.

Icarus nodded, pulling out a map.

"Here! I stole it from Master Tang!" Oh, sure, he could have told Basila that earlier, but he didn't want to get in trouble with the old adventurer.

After all, he had planned to introduce Basila to Ingrid, his Ingrid, for a while now.

And, well, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…

Even if Basila was just a girl. No different from the Little Mistress.

As soon as he thought that, he saw the fire in her eyes, as she studied the map.

No, the Little Mistress didn't even deserve for him to call her by her name, so bratty and evil she was.

But Basila was different.

"Come on! I know a shortcut!" It was her tugging him now.

Icarus let her. He was her Champion. And yet…

But hadn't she earned his trust, he asked himself? Hadn't she heard his story, the story he knew, and just accepted it?

She was yet to break the contract. Even after Ingrid, even after the Commander's death.

Even after he had dunged them in the sewers to make their escape.

"Hey, Basila," he had never been in this part of the forest before. And yet, he felt strangely calm. "You know it's pointless, right? The People of the Desert… they are millions."

Basila stopped running, sucking in a breath.

"And no amount of dresses is worth the blood that is going to be spilled. Even if they were exactly 1,000," he continued.

He wanted for her to have better dreams. Dreams which wouldn't create rivers of blood.

"But these lands," he began, for his people had done this same trick before. To the Blood Elves, to be exact. "Are rich. They are well-connected. No people who settle here will ever starve."

Which was ironic because under the rule of the Emperor Constantine, people were dying of starvation in the streets like rats in the gutters.

"And," Icarus continued. His clan was already here. All they needed was to be free. "The locals hate their ruler."

Basila stomped her foot.

"You darn horselord," she spat the word.

"Most elves have nothing to do with blood magic, Heir of Romulus," he spat right back.

"You will never get to sit on the Parthian Throne!" Basila yelled because she was fed up with this boy. This boy who thought that he knew it all, but didn't even know his birthright!

"Sure, I will," he was being spiteful. Not knowing that the trees had ears. "But before I get to sit on it, I have to free my family. You can trust in one thing, my lady," he took in a deep breath and placed his hand on his heart.

Basila could recognize an Honor Oath when one was given. She still remembered marble halls and well-lit chambers.

She still remembered riches and glamour.

"I will be Emperor!" His eyes were flashing again. "And I will bring my people here! To these lands, where all people are celebrated!"

Basila sucked in a breath.

"As what?" She felt that her heart was going to stop beating any minute. No one was going to raise the banners for a female heir.

But a male one, even a bastard…

"As a liberator! As the one who is going to get rid of the slave runes! Smuggler Style!"

And the trees recorded Icarus' foolish vow.

The dungeon core heard it, smiled, and began to wake up its defenders…