He marched off as soon as he awakened.
Al tugged his arm, but he brushed her off like a child.
"Will you just listen?" She shouted, the others still gathering their gear. "You don't even know if he's in the palace!"
"He's likely not alive," he snapped, slamming his shield into the ground, "and if he is he's not much time. The night was late when we were gutted like trout, and he might not make it to see the next one!"
'Dammit!' He cursed within his thoughts. 'Son of a toothless fuckin' whore!'
The lad saved his life more than once, and all he had to show for it was losing his head when it mattered most. An entire party and an overgrown gargoyle made little difference, and he was in no mood to waste anymore of the night.
"Stop!" Dany shouted.
He turned her as she approached, sword drawn.
"We make for the tunnels," she insisted. "That's where they'll take him."
He snorted, "How the fuck could you know that?"
"We saw it for ourselves," Al said, touching his arm, "all the best kept folk they feed on, they won't waste Nathan to a cluttered pen."
Fingers squeezing his eyes, he turned to the wall.
A few bashes with his shield, and he waved for them to lead the way.
William was insistent on going as well, and he allowed it, for anything and all things were worth the risk to retrieve his brother.
Along the northern wall it was colder.
The moon shined, though it appeared darker. Their breaths were white, it reeked of something like shit mounded with day old fish piled within a privy. Among the worst of it whiffed within his nostrils when they arrived at a hole in the wall, one so small he almost couldn't fit in.
He needed to remove his helm, which he strapped to his waist while holding his breath.
"It gets wider," Al promised, pulling a mask up over her nose. "Stay a few paces apart."
"You said something else was down here," he murmured. "Whatever it is, we can't take more than one chance at it."
"I know," Al said, stopping to light a torch. "Take the lead. We'll stay behind you, and William will blind it. Then we'll take care of the rest."
"Do not believe it so simple," the vampyre warned, a voice shaking the rot festered walls.
He took point regardless, shield shining.
Several paces ahead he saw them chained, men and women covered in dirt, ankle deep in their own piss. A few moaned, like a wailing cow. Some were so thin their ribs showed, while others were so well-fed their faces were round, as were their bellies. Yet every one of them was heavy in the eyes.
Bright red coals rose before him, the shades eyes a hot scowl.
Behind him iron and steel collided, yet silver light rang bright.
"Curse you!" The vampyre shouted, soaring back.
Arthur charged it, and he rammed the shade with his shield.
So close to prisoners he didn't want to risk using his flail, he ran the shade against the tunnel walls. It slipped between the cracks, and the vampyre disappeared.
"Do as you must, ye' of fireborne scum!" He whined. "Your precious ally, so young and ripe with substance rests within her highness's throne room…"
"Hurry!" He demanded.
"Wait!" Al shouted, hurrying to the nearest prisoner. "We have to-."
"Dammit, do ya' need a fuckin' clout? He's right where we need to be!"
Al hesitated, and Arthur grasped her hand.
"He's right. They won't be coming through the tunnels anytime soon, not with William here."
They young father nodded. "They don't take well to an anointed man. I'll stay behind and help these folk."
"I'll stay with him," Arthur said, handing off his spear to Dany. "Get Nathan back, and kill the First Sword."
With a short sword and the holiest hand in all the kingdom Arthur remained in the tunnels, going so far until a torch lit doorway appeared.
While the others entered the door, the young father and spearman unchained prisoners. Many were capable of speaking, tears in their eyes, at the mere touch of William.
Through the door was a dark hallway, short, leading to a lit round stairway. There were rats crawling along the walls, and a few bats screeching above the party's head. Upon reaching a rusty iron door, they opened it to find themselves within the north wing of the palace halls.
A pair of hellhounds, shaved coats with golden collars, growled at them, laying a few paces ahead of the door. He split the mutts' skulls open with a slam of his shield.
So far down from the southern entrance, there was no way to know whether or not the throne was near. They pressed onward west, hoping to find any sign of a grand entryway. Yet almost an hour passed and they found nothing.
Upon turning a corner down the eastern wing, ashes scattered about the ceiling and walls.
Cloaks laid soaked with blood, claw marks carved into ground, golden hilts laid ridden in soot, and a hole was open revealing a midnight Mavrryvia sky.
"Armless," he said to himself, approaching the gargoyle head.
Hung on a dark doorway, the gargoyle's eyes were gouged.
The rest of the gargoyle's corpse was nowhere to be found, and he believed it was used for some sort of vampyric feast. He shook his head, looking at Armless' face, believing it would smile at any moment. There must have been dozens of vampyres dead within the halls, all leading to the doorway.
One grasp of the doors knob, and chills took his spine.
He removed his hand, grasping his flask from his waist belt. After a swig, he handed the dark sharded carved cylinder bottle to Dany. She took a sip, then handed it to Al, who held her breath before drinking.
Al beat her chest, coughing with a red face, then nodded.
He donned his helm, then opened the door, revealing light bright like the morning.