Now, Lucius had initially planned to slow their fall by buying everyone a parachute from the shop. Much to his surprise, however, his fellows had no idea how to put them on, and the adrenaline of plummeting to their soon-to-be demise didn’t help much to calm their shaky hands. Fortunately, Miss Rhodes managed to wake from her blackout and quickly wove a large silk veil that wrapped around them and daintily floated in the air.

  The players descended into the large pit for some time, but even this murky darkness had to have a bottom. And so it was that the party of seven finally landed on solid ground. Barely a sliver of light reached them in the depths; and it would have ordinarily been difficult to see even an arm’s length in front of them… were it not for a separate source.

  Flowers. There were flowers of glowing white scattered about the former lake’s base, forming a soft meadow that gently illuminated the surroundings. Lucius was quite intrigued by them—how was it that such beauties could bloom in this chasm without light? Perhaps they received their energy from what laid below rather than above.

  The flowers weren’t the main star of this land, however. The players huddled together and gawked in awe, for all around them were the remains of what appeared to be an ancient ruin: dilapidated columns, sandy bricks, and engravings only the Saracens’ ancestors could have inscribed. This was a decrepit place, yet beautifully haunting all the same. It told of a rich history now lost to the annals of time.

  “Huh, so this dig was hidin’ beneath the city all this time?” Marco said, inspecting the structures.

  Harper reached toward one of the columns, only for it to turn to dust at the slightest touch. “Has to be at least a few hundred years old. Why’d they want to drop Roland here? I doubt a guy like him would die from something like a fall.”

  The others were just as confused. If the Saracens really wanted Sir Roland dead, they would have simply united their forces and trapped him in the city. There was no need for such an elaborate ruse… unless they were confident that someone, or something, in this pit could do their dirty work for them.

  Lucius’s suspicions were soon proven correct. The white flowers grew sparse the deeper into the ruin they stepped, and while there was still yet no sign of Roland or the other Peers, the party did come upon a startling discovery.

  There, latching onto a pillar like an invasive parasite, were the corrupted traces of the demons.

  Something sinister lurked in this fallen domain.

  >[Main Quest: Locate and Obtain the Second Fragment]<

  Your travels with Sir Roland have brought you to the resting grounds of the Saracens’ once mighty emirate, a sanctum of the desert people’s ancestors and a holy site that should have never been disturbed. Yet, something terrible has taken root in these ruins. A clue to obtaining the Demon King’s second fragment lies hidden within, but beware… you are not the only ones lingering in these bygone halls. Eliminate your enemies, retrieve the fragment, and a path to escape this pit might just reveal itself.

  Success: 1500 Cosmic Coins, + 5 unallocated stat points, and a Failure Protection Card.

  Failure: Death.

  The players looked amongst themselves, confirming the message window’s contents. It was all but certain now of what they would soon face. The Saracens weren’t their only enemy here.

  Miss Enapay was the first to speak, saying, “I do not like our chances. Even with the Franks’ expedition, we barely escaped alive procuring the first fragment. We must find the other Peers before we begin the search.”

  Everyone agreed with her, and so the party raised up their weapons and carefully delved farther into the sanctum. They tried to look for any traces of the Peers, but all they found was more rubble and debris. Scarcely a sound traveled through the air save for their nervous steps.

  It was after an hour of searching that the players began to notice something strange afoot. Surely this couldn’t be it, right? The silence, the lack of even a shout… the last they had seen Roland was of his battle with the Saracen Peer known as Ferragut. There should at least be traces of their scuffle, yet none among them had heard so much as a whisper.

  It was Mili who first turned their attention to this oddity. “Doesn’t it kinda feel like what happened with the Ears? I dunno, this place is off. There’s definitely something messing with the air.”

  Unfortunately, even with such warning, there was little the players could do but continue on. Only after a long period did they come across something new, something unexpected: a pyramid.

  “Huh?” Mister Crowley mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Now what’s a damn pyramid doing here? It looks similar to the ones back on earth, but there’s a weird shape to it.”

  Indeed. Rather than a typical cone, the temple had an odd spiral form that stuck out ominously from the other structures, like a twisted combination between a pyramid and a Mesopotaniam ziggurat. Merely casting one’s eyes upon the thing caused an unsettling sense of anxiety to worm into their hearts; but with no other destination in mind, the players were forced to approach the massive, eerie monument.

  When they drew near a set of stone doors, they noticed a lone figure standing motionless in front.

  “Sir Astolfo? Is that you, my friend?” Lucius asked. The man, or thing, didn’t reply. He seemed as if to be in a trance.

  The gentleman briefly glanced at the others, silently telling them to stay back, before walking up and tapping the thing's shoulder.

  “Are you alright? Blink twice if you can hear me.”

  It did not, in fact, blink. The thing merely stood there, eyes glazed over as if caught in some sort of bewitchment.

  “...”

  No sooner did Lucius try to assist it that the figure broke into a run and dashed straight into the spiral pyramid. It never once even acknowledged the gentleman.

  “Okay… that was creepy as hell,” Harper said, shivering. “Should we follow him?”

  Marco shrugged. “Not much else for us to do.”

  Thus the party sprung to life and chased after Astolfo. The inside of the structure was just as bizarre as the outside; strange foreign symbols and grotesque architecture plagued the labyrinthine halls. The only illumination granted was from the occasional sprout of those white flowers they saw before, and as one never to let go of an opportunity, Lucius grabbed a couple of them and arranged the buds into a bouquet that served as a biological lantern. He gave one to each party member and continued their pursuit.

  Truth be told, though, he was much more interested in studying these curious flowers now in his possession, but his fellows didn’t need to know that.

  Eventually, after some more twists, climbing up stairs, and even jumping into a couple of holes, the party managed to corner Astolfo at a dead end. There was nowhere left to run.

  “Alright, let me handle this,” Marco said, cracking his knuckles. “Maybe the kid’ll snap out of it after I give him a gentle slap.”

  Before the old mobster had a chance to do so, Astolfo turned around, stared blankly at the party, and then dissolved into sand.

  All that was left of it was a small clump.

  “Wha—huh?” Mili stuttered. “What the heck’s going on?”

  Mister Crowley scowled and scratched his head. “I think we were just swindled. That thing was a fake.”

  Lucius walked up, inspecting the lump of sand. He touched the grains and ran it over his fingers, feeling the coarseness.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Hm, I do not believe this to be of the demons’ involvement,” he said. “This sand is natural. Were it to be from our demonic foes, it would no doubt be twisted by the corruption we saw before.”

  Although Lucius was not privy to the exact powers of the other Peers, he had a feeling the culprit of this little trick belonged to that Saracen giant they had briefly seen before. The only question being… where was he now?

  Lucius didn’t have much time to ponder that question, for a gush of sand suddenly poured out of the hall’s crevices behind him, before gathering, condensing, into a troop of Saracen warriors. They had no faces, no defining features: a deadly army that could be amassed without need for emotion. And those very beings lunged at the party now.

  “The hell are these things?” Marco grunted, winding his fist back and striking at their sandy assailants. It was no use. His hand was sucked into the thing’s chest seamlessly, and he barely managed to pull himself free before its gritty blade could slice into his flesh. Physical blows wouldn’t work.

  “Stand back, old fella!” Harper cried. She leapt into action and summoned her fire hydrant, planting it right in the middle of the hall and blasting their foes with a sharp jet of water. Their sandy bodies turned wet; their movements slowed, and all it took now was a light push from Lucius to send the thing crashing onto the floor.

  “Oho, very well thought, Miss Brooks!” The gentleman didn’t waste time and slipped in-between the legion, segmenting their bodies into even square chunks so that it would be difficult to revive. The ones far in the back were blasted into smoldering chunks by Miss Mili, whose electric rays were so hot that some were even turned into a brittle glass-like form.

  Unbeknownst to those in the front, though, the warriors of sand began to amass from the other side of the hall as well. Miss Rhodes was caught in a blindspot, but Mister Crowley quickly came to her rescue and threw a barrage of mini bombs that pushed the horde back. His explosives didn’t quite have the same heat as Mili’s lightning due to the size. Still, they were effective in fending the sandy things off until one of the others could come to assist him.

  The mustached inventor had learned much during his experience with the expedition. If his bombs were too risky to be used in tight corridors, then he simply needed to lower the firepower.

  The party continued with their defense for some time. Yet, no matter how many of the things they destroyed, more would simply take their place. They couldn’t persist like this forever. They needed an escape.

  “I daresay there shall never be an end to this,” Lucius said, regrouping with his fellows and devising a plan. “Let us clear the way forth and search for a more convenient location than these slim passages.”

  Speed was of the essence. The party cleaved their way out of the sandy warriors’ encirclement and ran back into the pyramid’s countless twisting halls, leaving their pursuers to chase from close behind. Harper could do little to help now since her fire hydrant had to be stationary, so Mili and Mister Crowley combined efforts to defend their rear. Miss Rhodes also contributed a bit by stitching large pieces of fabric to throw at them. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.

  It was during their frantic escape that the group bumped into the fleeing body of Sir Astolfo: the real one this time.

  “Lucius?” he gasped. “So you found this place too—”

  “No time, my friend. We must be off.”

  The young Peer had been running from his own flock of foes, and one look behind Lucius’s party gave him all he needed to know of their shared predicament. With fellows once again reunited, the eight of them sprinted off, desperately searching for somewhere to escape the shifting swarm.

  Their efforts were rewarded in the end. Lucius’s group soon rushed into an open chamber higher up the pyramid. The walls here had no cracks from which the sand could leak from, so Miss Rhodes stitched a barrier and blocked off the only entrance. Their sandy assailants tried to break through it for some time; but eventually, the pounding faded, and the group was finally given a chance to take a rest.

  “Holy crud, they just never stopped coming,” Mili groaned, collapsing onto her back. “I don’t think those were demons. Didn’t feel any ickiness from them.”

  Sir Astolfo grabbed at his knees and took a deep breath. “You’re right. That was the Desert Legion commanded by Sir Ferragut. I’ve only heard tales of it from Roland and Angelica, but I don’t think he was that powerful before.”

  “Didn’t you say he was a Peer?” Harper asked. “I thought guys like him were supposed to be on our side.”

  “Only officially, but Sir Ferragut has never really been involved in the empire’s matters. I doubt his true allegiance lies with Francia. Still, to think he’d openly attack us…”

  Their brief encounter brought many questions, as well as much exhaustion, so Lucius gathered everyone around for a relaxing tea party, with snacks, pastries, and of course refreshing drinks to go around. It did much to lighten the mood, but their objective remained the same: find the other Peers, locate the fragment, and possibly come to blows with their mysterious enemy.

  “Is Lady Angelica not with you?” Lucius asked.

  Astolfo nodded. “We were separated after entering this strange temple. I thought I saw Sir Roland in the distance so I tried to follow after him, but it turned out to be one of Sir Ferragut’s distractions. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been so reckless.”

  “You only did what you thought was right, my friend. Rest assured: we will find the others in due time.”

  That seemed to cheer the young man up. He stood back up, refreshed, and ready to continue his search. The others were just as eager to depart; however, there was no other path out beside the one they just came from. To go back there would mean risking another confrontation with the so-called Desert Legion.

  Lucius had his doubts that it was truly the only exit, though. Toward the other end of the chamber was a large mural depicting what appeared to be a holy man garbed in a rainbow coat and holding some sort of written decree. The words weren’t quite the same as the Saracens current alphabet, but it held enough similarities for Lucius to translate the message.

  May we want for naught coin can buy,

  Never see wealth’s river run dry,

  May we find fortune after life,

  For this we pray.

  Coincidentally, there was a small sand tablet underneath the mural. It looked just big enough for one to write a word in.

  Lucius walked up to the tablet and raised his finger. He thought to himself about what the message could be referring to, the intent behind these ancient Saracen engravings. What would they have wished to pass on to future generations? A treasure that couldn’t be bought, a spirit that encouraged others to prosper, and a legacy that persisted after life…

  Lucius smiled to himself, and he traced his answer in the sand.

  “Community.”

  No sooner did he finish the last letter that the mural began to tremble, and it rose up into the air, revealing a secret passage.

  “You know, I’m not even gonna ask anymore,” Mili said, skipping toward the passage and waving for everyone to follow her. Sir Astolfo opened his mouth—confused—but soon trailed after, not wanting to be left behind. Lucius’s tricks were simply an enigma.

  The rooms beyond the passage were quite different from the previous levels. There was no need to hold onto the flower lanterns anymore, for torches burning in a bright blue flame were affixed to every corner. The halls were more tidy, the decorations more elegant, and an unblemished white covered the premises. To the players, it felt as if they were trespassing on sacred ground, intruding on a realm reserved only for the Saracens’ devout.

  Thus did they continue their journey through this new section. They climbed more sets of stairs, discovered other passages leading back to the lower layers, and admired the paintings and glassware placed about. It was a marvel that the structure could remain so pristine despite centuries of being hidden underwater.

  Their leisurely tour would eventually come to an end. As they approached the next chamber, loud sounds of fighting blew past them, and the group soon rushed inside to discover a disgruntled Angelica fending back a mob of demons.

  “Curses, to think these foul things would be found here as well!”

  The lady, to her credit, didn’t seem to need much help at all. She swung around a giant spiked flail, tearing through her demonically nonsensical foes without so much as a sweat; and when one managed to slip through her gaps, she bashed them back with her greatshield, repeating the cycle until there were none left to block her way.

  By the time the players could reach her, the demons were already felled. Angelica stretched her shoulders and turned to face them: surprised, and also relieved.

  “Ah, Astolfo! Finally come to join me, have you?” she said with a light laugh. “I told you not to rush so far ahead by yourself.”

  “You were right. I’ve learned my lesson,” Astolfo nodded sagely. “But I also managed to find the otherworlders, so it wasn’t entirely useless!”

  “I suppose it wasn’t.”

  Angelica walked up to Lucius and softly patted his arm. “I am relieved to see you as well, Sir Lucius. I would not have blamed you had you chosen to remain above ground rather than delve into the unknown like the fool I was.”

  “Perish the thought, my lady. Of course I would follow you!” Lucius said with a bow. “Although it does appear we’ve found ourselves in quite a complicated situation.”

  “You speak true. Never would I have thought to encounter demons so deep below the city. The new Emir and Sir Ferragut will have much to answer for once we escape this pit.”

  “I share your sentiment, but first we must locate Sir Roland.”

  And, of course, obtain the Demon King’s fragment, but there was no need to inform the good lady about that matter for now. One step at a time.

  Angelica nodded and pointed to the room’s end. Rather than a mural or painting, a towering glass statue of the same rainbow-garbed holy man from before hung over a stairway leading all the way up to the highest point of the pyramid. There were no more halls or mazes to navigate. Beyond those steps lay their final destination.

  Lucius, the players, and the Peers acknowledged each other, before huddling into a careful formation and climbing the stairway toward a grand, final set of doors. They pushed it open and entered.

  “It is over, Sir Ferragut. You have lost.”

  What awaited them was the Roland's triumphant visage, cold and firm, whilst standing above the defeated body of the Saracen giant they had come so far to confront.

  The Esteemed Gentlepeople of the , to whom I am forever grateful.

  [The Distinguishedly Dandy Gentlemen Hall of Fame]