At the end of the hall sat King Alaric the Pious. He was a man who looked like a portrait of a king—long white beard, a crown of heavy platinum, and a silk robe that cost more than a small village. Beside him stood a man in a sharp, grey doublet holding a clipboard. He didn't look like a courtier; he looked like a mid-level manager.
Jessica stepped forward, her cape swirling. she drove her holy sword's scabbard into the floor with a resounding thud.
"King Alaric of Ashvilliah!" Jessica's voice boomed, echoing off the marble. "We are the Summoned Saviors of Durmount. We come to you under the mandate of King of Durmount kingdom King Selamendra himself. We seek passage to the Demon Lands and a war-tithe to fund the final eradication of the Shadow!"
The King didn't speak. He looked at the man with the clipboard.
The man cleared his throat. "Regarding the 'mandate' of the Durmount Crown... we have a small clerical issue. Lord Thomas, if you would?"
Thomas stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "I am the strategist for this party. What 'clerical issue' could possibly override the survival of humanity?"
"Well," the official said, tapping his pen against his chin. "According to the Amended Continental Trade and Sovereignty Act signed four months ago, the 'Kingdom of Durmount' technically no longer exists as a sovereign debtor. It has been restructured as the Avangard Administrative District. As such, any 'mandates' issued by the previous administration—specifically by the late King—are now considered unsecured liabilities."
The silence that followed was so heavy it felt physical.
"Late... King?" Anna's voice was a ghost of a sound.
"Yes," the official said, almost bored. "Died of a 'sudden onset of reality' during a restructuring. Tragic. The new Ruler or governor, Lady Natalie Sulina, has actually issued a warrant for your return. She's quite concerned about the 'misuse of state-funded holy artifacts' currently strapped to your waists."
"You lie!" Jennifer roared, her hand flying to her blade. The Holy Magic flared white around her, cracking the floorboards. "The King is waiting for us! Leornars is a thief, a usurper!"
King Alaric finally spoke, his voice thin and shaky. "Peace, Hero. Please. I... I have no quarrel with you. But you must understand. Ashvilliah's grain is stored in Avangard silos. Our knights' armor is forged in Avangard foundries. My own crown... well, it was refinanced last month at a very competitive rate."
He looked at them with a mixture of pity and terror. "To grant you an audience is a tradition. To grant you gold... is an act of bankruptcy."
Jessica's face went pale, then a deep, furious red. "We are the world's only hope against the Demon King! Do you think your 'refinanced crown' will save you when the demon hordes burn these walls?"
The official with the clipboard stepped forward again. "Actually, the Demon kins signed a Non-Aggression and Trade Pact with the Auditor three weeks ago. It turns out the Demon Lands are rich in rare earth minerals required for Golem cores. Why would he burn a kingdom that provides him with high-quality agricultural exports and a 4% return on his sovereign wealth fund?"
Thomas felt his knees go weak. The "Great War" between Good and Evil—the very reason they had been ripped from their homes in the US and the UK—had been settled at a conference table.
"So..." Jason stammered, his American bravado crumbling. "We're... we're what? We're just runaway equipment?"
"In the eyes of the law?" The official smiled thinly. "You are 'unaccounted-for capital.' You represent a significant investment by the former Durmount taxpayer, and you have yet to provide a return on that investment."
King Alaric sighed, leaning back into his plush, expensive throne. "I can offer you one night of hospitality. It is a gift, not a tithe. Tomorrow, you must leave Ashvilliah. If you stay, I am contractually obligated to hand you over to the Avangard Recovery Team."
"Recovery Team?" Anna whispered.
"Debt collectors," the official clarified. "With very large Golems."
As the heroes were ushered out of the throne room—not as legends, but as nuisances—the reality finally began to sink in.
They stood in the courtyard, the cheers of the people now sounding like mocking laughter.
"We're going to the Demon Lands," Jessica whispered, her voice trembling with a terrifying intensity. She gripped her sword so hard her knuckles turned white.
"Jessica, did you hear them?" Anna cried. "The Demon King is a business partner now! There is no war! It's over!"
"No!" Jessica turned, her eyes flashing with a light that wasn't holy anymore. "If there is no war, we will start one. If the Demon King won't fight, we'll slaughter his people until he has to. We are Heroes! We have to be Heroes! Because if we aren't..."
She looked at the golden 'A' on a passing guard's shield.
"...then we're just thieves who owe a dead man's debt to a monster in a suit."
Jennifer nodded, her face like stone. "Pack the bags. We leave at midnight. We aren't fighting for Durmount anymore. We're fighting for our right to exist."