Ch - 17 My chess pieces are in position to topple your little tea party.

As sudden as a thunderclap, three guards before Lewis were smashed to the ground by the monstrous chimera landing in their midst. Its eyes locked menacingly on Lewis, seeming to target him specifically. In a flash, the beast struck out with its heavy paw towards Lewis. The situation became dire, and Lewis knew he had to muster all his courage and wits to evade the impending danger.

Spying the blow at the last instant, Lewis hurled himself from the saddle, his horse perishing in his stead. He narrowly avoided the attack, feeling it whistle past by a hair's breadth as he hit the ground. Lewis quickly regained his footing, unsheathing his enchanted sword forged with runes. Grasping the hilt with both hands, he pressed the switch on the sword's pommel.

Fiery tendrils engulfed the blade, extending its reach. Lewis swung the flaming brand just in time to parry a strike from the serpent's head. His sword bit deep, unleashing an arc of sparks and eliciting an unearthly wail. The chimera reeled from the intense flames now consuming its serpentine appendage. The tide of battle had shifted, and Lewis seized the opportunity to press the attack.

The serpentine tail thrashed in agony as Lewis' eldritch flames consumed it. The snake attempted to smother the fire by writhing on the ground, but the mystical inferno only intensified. Meanwhile, the lion head unleashed a bellowing roar, as if challenging Lewis to pit his mettle.

But the young lord had already darted beneath the convulsing beast, his fiery blade carving deeply into its vulnerable underbelly. Potent flames burst forth within its bowels. The mortally-wounded chimera unleashed an unearthly shriek as the ravenous fire devoured it from the inside out.

In its death-throes, the chimera's wings unfurled, crashing through swathes of forest in a desperate attempt at flight. The surrounding trees caught flame, kindling an expanding wildfire in its wake. Just as the disintegrating beast became airborne, a flash of steel suddenly materialized above its mane.

Ser Green's longsword cleaved cleanly through sinew and vertebrae, decapitating the chimera. Its lifeless bulk collapsed mid-flight as the knight retrieved his gore-streaked weapon. The orphaned head tumbled back to earth, its baleful eyes finally dimming in death. Ser Green and the surviving men descended upon the smoking carcass, ensuring the threat was permanently neutralized.

Lewis tumbled to the ground, his breath escaping in visible wisps as Sickwid and Dell hurried to his side, urgently attempting to rouse him. Sickwid reached for Lewis' shoulders but promptly withdrew, startled by the intense heat emanating from his friend.

The severely injured Ser Green staggered over, blood cascading from a sizable shoulder wound. Despite his own condition, he assessed Lewis' pulse and breathing before retrieving the fallen longsword.

"What happened to him? He was battling and then suddenly collapsed, burning up!" Sickwid inquired, his dismay evident.

"These are side effects from wielding a powerful artifact beyond one's means," Ser Green explained between labored breaths. "Young master Lewis's sword is a highest-grade weapon - only chosen wielders may exploit their full potential without consequences. We are fortunate the blade accepted him partial enough to grant victory."

He grimaced, applying pressure to his freely bleeding shoulder. "Chimeras have frightful strength. At least ten knights or a royal guardian would be needed to slay one without such an asset."

Ser Green glanced at Lewis' comatose form with remorse. "The young lord was likely attempting to reach the fortress walls before fully unleashing the sword's power. But time was against us."

He leveraged himself up with his longsword. "We must depart quickly. That chilling cry of the dying chimera will attract more fell beasts hungry for man-flesh. We must bar the gates."

With great effort, the gravely injured Ser Green stood up and took command. "You ten, escort our young master back safely." Turning to the others, he said "The rest of you, collect our fallen brothers to give them proper funeral honors."

It took the group bearing Lewis another hour to reach the fortress gates, with his strange fever cooling somewhat in that time. Just as they passed beneath the towering walls, Lewis awoke with a start. Still disoriented, he was quickly ushered to his chambers by the relieved guards per his weary request for solitude.

Ser Green had collapsed from blood loss before arriving at the castle. Healers swarmed the courageous knight to stitch and dress his wounds. It took another two hours before the remaining guards returned, bearing the bodies of the fallen for proper funeral rites. The brave captain of guards had clung to life after the chimera attack but finally succumbed after five days of struggle.

Ser Green remained deep in a coma, not having awakened since collapsing from horrific wounds. Lewis largely recovered and resumed his lordly duties, but grief and unease still plagued his heart. He sent urgent missives to his father regarding the preternatural beast's incursion.

The formerly defiant Lord Silverfield, rattled by the news, finally relinquished the keys to the castle vaults and armories. He feared the chimera's appearance would implicate him for conjuring the monster against Lewis. Though suspicions lingered of Silverfield's potential conspiracy behind the attack, a responding letter from his father gave Lewis greater cause for worry. It contained ominous warnings.

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Three long years ago, in a secluded mountain summit far removed from any well-known trade routes, an unlikely trio gathered in secret, bond together only by mutual thirst for money. The rendezvous location was hidden in the shadowy corner of the Black Stag tavern, a dingy, ramshackle establishment nestled amidst the craggy, oft-snowcapped misty peaks. Though once a place waypoint for weary travelers bound to mountains of death, the village had shifted in recent decades into a well-guarded stronghold, with armored sentries posted at every winding passage between its towering cliffsides.

As dusk's dying crimson light filtered through dust-caked windows, it revealed two hardened men already seated inside the tavern's cracked timber walls, sagging under decades of ceaseless mountain gales. Sword hilts glinted from their waistbands as they tapped boots crusted with mud from distant marches. These two weathered souls hailed from western border kingdom of Ansdell, though any semblance of nobility or diplomacy had long since faded from their cold, flinty eyes. Across the table awaited the lone woman who had summoned them for this covert parley, her raven hair seeming to melt into tavern's flickering shadows. Though raised in this very village, her countenance and dress betrayed hints of her true heritage – the southern kingdom of Maridian. What bound this unlikely gathering was something deeper than mere borders, as each assessed the company with thinly veiled suspicion, the old buried desire for coins started to resurface from depth of their hearts.

"How fortuitous to find you both here!" lady vaela flashed an elegant smile.

"Dear vaela, we haven't had the pleasure since the spring hunts!" Lord Ethar raised a goblet with broad grin. "To finally share a drink in your company again after long months lifts this old sprit."

His battle-scarred companion nodded in agreement. "Here here. What ventures occupy the venerable house of Alyn these days? Still overseeing the northern mountain passes?"

Lady vaela smiled demurely over the rim of jeweled chalice. "But of course. Maridian would be quite lost without steady hand minding these borderlands." Her eyes glinted with well-practiced charm befitting her noble station. "The safety flow of trade have never been finer priorities. And what of you since… well, since stepping back from Ansdell's chaotic courts?"

Lord Ethar stroked his beard with a wry look exchanged toward his companion. "Oh, sipping wine and wiling away the hours as you see us now. Though restless minds linger on certain opportunities left unfulfilled…" 

Casual banter meandered between reminiscence of youthful ambitions and gentle prodding at veiled possibilities yet ahead for those patient enough, until an unspoken awareness permeated the unlikely reunion; while public roles positioned the trio as loyal servants of their kingdom, behind glided doors patient chaos might yet bloom when the forgotten could still inherit thrones of conquest, In due time…

The trio continued to exchange pleasantries and banters over honeyed wine, reminiscing fondly like the old friends they publicly posed as. But behind the jovial banter lay generations of patient cunning, biding time until schemes could unfold.

"Why make the long trek across the mountains though? Surely not just to enjoy this dingy tavern's company?" Vaela Alyn asked with a smile flashing on her mouth.

The bearded lord chuckled. "Perceptive as always, my lady Alyn. In truth, we hoped to discuss potential ventures now that peace had lasted so long between Maridian and Ansdell."

His scarred companion nodded, idly tapping a dagger hilt. "Borderlands remain quiet. No skirmishes means little need for steel shipments these days. We grow… restless."

"Restless?" Vaela raised one dark eyebrow coyly. "How fortunate our kingdoms aren't embroiled in open warfare then."

"Quite fortunate indeed…" Lord Ethar stroked his beard slowly. "Through conflict tends to nurture certain opportunities, you understand. If only there existed reasons to incite the people of Maridian against our Ansdell rule."

Vaela Alyn stared thoughtfully into hearth's flickering embers for a long moment before meeting their eyes with sudden resolve. "Then we must create reason that further… mutual interests."

The scheming nobles allowed silence to cloak their table as a new secret pact formed. The first seeds were subtly sown through clever hands long versed in patient, cunning statecraft… Now simply to wait for the coming harvest.

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