They enter a large hall with several tables and chairs, where members of the court are seated on the sides, resembling a jury. Large, thick stained-glass windows protrude from the walls, depicting the figure of a phoenix and angelic beings.
Further ahead is the royal guard, with their blue cloaks, helmets adorned with a peacock feather, full armor, and armed with bayonets, positioned on either side of the throne, which is shaped like a flame and adorned with bird heads on each arm. Seated on the royal seat is the ruler of the Phoenix country: Solomon Lazarus.
The king is an older man with pointed mustaches, a robust body. He has a round face with wrinkles, his brown hair already showing some strands dyed white. His eyes are blue. He wears a white tunic with golden details and a red cape. And atop his head shines the golden crown with orange jewels.
The guards kneel and bow their heads in front of the king. Tonatiuh, still with his head bowed, discreetly peeks towards the throne, as if he wished to be seated there. Drake looks at his companions; they all remain calm, unlike him. The crimson warrior thinks of his father, praying to his spirit for some of his strength and courage, knowing him as a strong man who fears nothing.
Drake notices two familiar faces entering the throne room and standing beside the king; they are the inquisitor and the princess. The crimson guardian tries to disguise himself to avoid attracting attention; he is consumed by nervousness due to the high population in the hall.
"So, these are the guardians, eh?" says the inquisitor in a mocking tone, "they're just a bunch of kids. Well, most don't grow old. There are only like five or maybe ten who are older, and they're the ones leading them. Few call them suicidal heroes, but most say they're just a bunch of sociopaths."
"A bit of both, Mr. Inquisitor," Tonatiuh says with a mocking smile.
Both the king and the inquisitor chuckle in unison at the comment, even causing amusement in the crimson warrior, as it's a truthful statement. However, he remains on the sidelines. He can't let the inquisitor recognize him.
The inquisitor's name is Bastean Estraiker, a mature man of tall and sturdy stature. He has short, well-combed brown hair with some white strands. He sports a thick mustache that reaches his chin, and his skin is dark. He has harsh features, with some spiderwebs of scars on his right cheek, the result of a burn. His attire consists of a wide-brimmed hat, black to match a coat adorned with some ornaments: shoulder pads, a breastplate, wristbands, and a tactical belt with two revolvers holstered, carrying an unfurled mace. Dark pants, and brown boots with capped toes, and reinforced gloves with metal pieces.
The crimson warrior is afraid to deal with this man, as he is a sorcerer named the archmage of Lazarus; the king's right hand. But the person he really wants to avoid is the princess.
The king's young daughter measures one meter sixty, with a slender build, and seems to be in her late teens, with a very beautiful heart-shaped face. She has long, wavy blonde hair that reaches her shoulders, with two strands of hair masking her face, reaching the tip of her nose. Her eyes are large, green, with long lashes and thin eyebrows, but with dark circles, turned into bags under her eyes.
She wears a fluffy white dress with a neckline, and a tiara with a red crystal in the middle. Any man would want to marry her, but her father always rejects all the marriages offered, for some reason unknown. The princess has a tired look, as if she hasn't slept for several days.
"Dear guardians, please show your faces. I am not your king; I am just another client begging for your assistance," says Solomon, motioning for the guardians to stand up, and they do so. "Please uncover your faces, you three, I want to see your faces," he says, referring to Drake, Lance, and Sheila, "you first, the one dressed in black."
"I'm sorry, my lord," Lance replies, making a polite bow, "but I adhere to very strict vows. It is in honor of my master and fallen comrades. I beg your pardon."
"Do you dare to refuse His Majesty?" says the inquisitor, taking the dark guardian's refusal as an offense. "Those vows mean nothing in this place. I've read your file, and as far as I can discern, the reason for staying loyal to that regime, if you become a guardian."
"That's enough, Bast," the king snaps, ordering the inquisitor to stop. "Very well, I'll respect that. You, in the red armor; I highly doubt you have any vows. Your armor is quite intimidating; even my beautiful daughter has been frightened by such a sight. Please show that you are human."
"I have to do it, no matter what happens I'll have to stand firm. If they try to kill me, I'll have to flee, possibly being torn to pieces before even managing to leave the castle," Drake thinks.
"Come on, do it or I'll take off your helmet myself," says the inquisitor impatiently.
Drake has no other alternative, and his body trembles. He doesn't mentally remove the helmet as he's accustomed to. He materializes a release under the helmet, loosens it, and pretends to remove it, when in reality he gives the order to the entity to remove it. As the face of the crimson warrior is revealed, the king doesn't seem surprised, but the inquisitor grimaces with displeasure and grips his rifle tighter, eager to empty the magazine. The princess, on the other hand, her tired expression turns into a cold gaze.
"Your Majesty..."
Bast contains a scream, calling his king. Both men exchange silent looks, and Solomon's serene expression turns into one of surprise, gradually darkening into seriousness.
"That was in the past... and we made a pact. Whatever you do, nothing will change. If they brought you here, it must be on the recommendation of the guardian leaders, and they studied our situation. They are the representatives of Munraimund, who was once the best friend of our sacred traveler; everything happens for a reason," the king sighs wearily, massaging his temples from the headache caused by the telepathic message sent by the inquisitor. "Perhaps the holy traveler has granted you a new opportunity, boy... don't waste it and fulfill your duty this time."
"Yes, sir..." Drake lowers his head, ashamed of the mistakes of the past weighing on his shoulders.
"Well, it's your turn, mysterious hooded one, let me see your face," the king requests, focusing on Sheila.
As she stands up, the woman removes her hood, and in that instant, all the smiles and mocking from the nobles die down, due to the physical appearance of the scarlet woman. Solomon himself rises from his seat, angry with his eyes fixed on the guardian.
"I've read the reports about you..." says the inquisitor with a curious air, almost holding back a laugh, "unlike all your comrades, it doesn't exactly specify the nature of your race; it simply states as inhuman hybrid. What are you supposed to be?"
"Let me show you," Sheila responds seriously.
The atmosphere becomes heavy and warm, and after a heartbeat, two bulges form on the young woman's forehead, which grow at an alarming rate until they take the form of two horns, and the skin that surrounds them dissolves into a whitish glow, changing into a segmented crimson tone.
"A demon!" shouts one of the court members.
"Quick! Someone does something!" exclaims another.
The guard's step-in front of the king, in a defensive position with rifles ready and pointed towards the scarlet girl. Sheila doesn't hesitate to get into a combat position, raising her clenched fists. The rest of the guardians also stand in front of their companion, in case a confrontation arises.
"Stop at once! If she came on behalf of Trisary, it means she's tamed and she's on our side. So, stop at once; there will be no bloodshed in front of His Majesty," the inquisitor commands authoritatively, ordering his men to lower their weapons, and he is seconded by the king. "This girl is a hybrid or an altered one, just like the rest."
"It's not like that, Mr. Inquisitor," Sheila speaks with steel composure; a growing flame burns in her eyes, and without hesitation, she continues, "My name is Sheila Aldibán, the daughter of fire; the blood of a dragon runs through my veins, and I will become the greatest guardian that has ever existed."
The onlookers murmur among themselves, stunned by such a revelation; they can't believe that a being of the ancient race of dragons still exists; however, the fact of being a medium undermines credibility about her true nature.
There have been rumors of people possessing dragon characteristics in some parts of the world, especially in the empire, due to experiments by witches. Most theorize that it's pure bragging, classifying her as a mutant or a demon hybrid, so the impression gradually fades.
Drake lets out a small laugh at the dragon's enormous ego, that she's able to openly shout it. She realizes instantly and glares at him; those ears are not for decoration. The race of the scarlet girl sparks some curiosity in the crimson warrior, so he intends to observe her closely and find out if she really is what she claims to be.
Unexpectedly, the king of Lazarus lets out a resounding laugh, holding his stomach. That laughter spreads among the members of the royal court, becoming a raucous orchestra of mockery aimed at the dragoness, whose gaze drips with bloodlust, with clenched fists.
Maria approaches to touch her shoulder, and they both look at each other; the medium wears a look of pity, silently begging her to calm down, while the dragoness's face is one of cold rage, but she understands the implications, so she decides not to do anything.
"Strong statements, especially in front of a king," the inquisitor says disdainfully, with a hint of a smile on his face.
"Forgive me... daughter... you are accepted into my ranks," the king manages to regain his composure, and he raises his hand to stop the mockery, "whether you're a hybrid or a pure being, for the protection granted by Trisary, you and yours are welcome."