Inside the barracks of the Xargian Guard, the air was thick with tension.

  Mongoose stood before the elite soldiers, his presence heavy and unwelcome. Beside him, Dragon remained silent, her posture rigid. The guards, clad in their snarling helmets, watched in stony silence.

  “I’m Mongoose,” the newly appointed captain announced. His voice carried no warmth, only authority. “By order of the king, I am now your captain.”

  No one responded.

  His gaze flicked toward Dragon before he laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “Dragon will serve as vice-captain,” he continued, then turned his attention elsewhere. His sharp eyes landed on one soldier in particular.

  “Bear.”

  The large man stiffened.

  “You’re demoted. From this moment on, you are no different from the rest—a regular guard.”

  Bear said nothing. He only nodded, the weight of his past failure at Niceland still pressing heavily on his shoulders.

  Mongoose took a step forward, surveying the assembled troops. “The king is concerned,” he declared. “He believes you have gone soft.” His voice hardened. “It is my duty to restore the Guard to its former glory.”

  A pause. Then, with cold amusement, he added, “There will be new rules.”

  Silence stretched across the barracks.

  “You will now be assigned numbers in addition to your names,” Mongoose continued. “The highest-performing soldiers will reap the rewards of their skill—wealth, comfort, status.” His tone then darkened. “And the lowest-ranked ones…” He let the words hang before delivering the final blow.

  “…shall perform the Duel of the Dragon.”

  Dragon’s body went rigid.

  “I won’t allow you to bring back that barbaric ritual,” she said sharply.

  Mongoose moved before she could react, his hand snapping to his belt. In one fluid motion, he unfurled his whip. The leather hissed as it cracked against the stone floor.

  “You dare question the king’s decision?”

  Dragon didn’t flinch. She didn’t answer.

  The tension in the room coiled tight.

  Mongoose cracked the whip again. This time, it wasn’t a warning—it was a command. The guards stilled, but their irritation simmered beneath the surface.

  He rolled the whip back up and extended it toward Dragon.

  “Prove your loyalty,” he ordered. “Whip the guards who failed the last mission.”

  Dragon inhaled slowly. “I refuse.”

  Mongoose began circling her like a predator. “So you’re disobeying orders?”

  She met his gaze but didn’t reply.

  He tossed the whip to the ground. “Then someone else will.”

  His voice rang through the barracks, daring them.

  “Any man who wants to claim the first-ranked number—pick up the whip.” He pointed straight at Dragon. “And punish the one who disobeys.”

  A long, heavy silence followed.

  No one moved.

  Then, finally—

  A voice broke through.

  “We’re not dogs that follow orders blindly.”

  A soldier stepped forward, his massive frame casting a shadow over the whip on the floor.

  “We are proud warriors of Xandria.”

  Elephant.

  He bent down, picking up the whip—only to snap it in half as though it were no more than a brittle twig. The broken pieces clattered to the ground.

  “I won’t stand for anyone threatening Dragon or my comrades with violence.” His voice was unwavering.

  Mongoose’s expression darkened.

  “I remember you.” He reached up, running a finger over the faded scars on his face. His narrowed eye gleamed with recognition.

  “This was your doing,” he said coldly. “All those years ago.”

  Elephant nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Then, with quiet defiance, he declared,

  “And Dragon is our commander. If you’re replacing her—then I will leave.”

  Mongoose turned to Dragon. “How many Xargian Guards remain?”

  She met his gaze without hesitation. “Besides you, thirty remain after the last mission.”

  Mongoose nodded, then shifted his attention to the assembled soldiers. His expression was unreadable, but his next words carried the weight of iron chains.

  “You seem to misunderstand something.” His voice was calm at first, measured. “You are not proud warriors of Xandria.” He took a step forward. “You are not free to do whatever you please.”

  Then, in a voice cold enough to cut, he delivered the truth as he saw it:

  “You are glorified slaves.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy as a death sentence.

  Elephant folded his arms. “That’s not how we live our lives.”

  Mongoose exhaled through his nose, as if dealing with disobedient children. “Whatever foolish ideals Dragon has planted in your heads, rid yourselves of them. You are loyal beasts of the crown.”

  His gaze locked onto Elephant. “I read the report on you.”

  He began listing off charges like a judge pronouncing a doomed man’s fate.

  “Elephant of the Xargian Guard. Disobeying orders on the mission to retrieve Niles and the Holy Crystal. Providing food to the enemy. Interrupting negotiations. Lacking courage on the battlefield.” Mongoose took a slow, deliberate breath. “Abandoning an ally. Engaging in battle with pirates and letting them escape. Freeing prisoners under the cover of night. Allowing Gingerbeard to flee.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Did I miss anything? What punishment do you think fits these crimes?”

  Before Elephant could respond, another voice cut in.

  “I was with him,” Jackal said. “His actions could have been my own.” His voice held no hesitation, no regret. “I know what you’re going to say, but listen—I allowed it to happen. Any punishment should be shared.”

  Then Bear spoke. “I take responsibility, too. As the mission commander, any blame falls on me first.”

  Jackal nudged Chameleon.

  “I want to stay out of this,” Chameleon hissed under his breath.

  Jackal didn’t back down. He fixed him with a hard stare, and Chameleon realized there was no slipping into the background this time.

  “Fine,” he muttered.

  Then, louder: “Me as well! Apparently!”

  And then—one by one—more voices joined. Soldiers who hadn’t even been on the mission stepped forward, asking to share the punishment.

  The weight of it stunned Mongoose. He took a step back, his composure cracking.

  “What… is this?” he muttered, disbelief creeping into his voice.

  Dragon’s eyes burned with something unshakable. “We defend together, we dine together, and we die together,” she said. Then, with quiet finality, “We are not the same soldiers you left behind years ago.”

  Mongoose clenched his fists, trying to regain control.

  “ANYONE WHO DISOBEYS ORDERS WILL BE PUNISHED!” he bellowed. His breathing was ragged. “I WILL PERSONALLY APPOINT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU TO PARTICIPATE IN THE—”

  Clink.

  The first helmet hit the ground.

  Then another.

  And another.

  The sound echoed through the barracks as, one by one, the Xargian Guard removed their beastly helmets and let them fall. A rain of snarling metal masks littered the floor.

  Elephant moved first, walking toward the exit. The others followed.

  Mongoose’s eyes darted around, his authority slipping like sand through his fingers.

  “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE WITHOUT YOUR HELMETS!” he roared, his voice desperate now. “THE MEETING IS NOT OVER!”

  But they did not look back.

  Elephant walked straight through Mongoose, forcing him to step aside. The newly appointed commander clenched his jaw, his authority slipping like sand.

  “STAND YOUR GROUND, SLAVES!” Mongoose bellowed, but his words bounced off them like pebbles against steel.

  Elephant didn’t even look back. “If you truly wish to resume the Duel of the Dragon…” He stopped just long enough to cast his shadow over Mongoose. “…then face me.”

  Mongoose had no response.

  The Xargian Guard left without another word.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Only Dragon remained. Grinning behind her helmet.

  At the castle grounds, the Xandrian soldiers halted their patrols. Their gazes fixed on the group emerging from the Xargian Guard barracks.

  No helmets.

  The armor was unmistakable, but stripped of their beastly masks, the warriors looked like strangers.

  The Xargian Guard walked toward the moat bridge. The Xandrian soldiers stationed there exchanged glances but ultimately stepped aside. The Xargian Guards at the bridge greeted them like old comrades.

  Jackal pushed his hair back, inhaling the crisp air. “Where are we headed, Brother Elephant?” Behind them, the rest of the Xargian Guard trailed like a silent storm.

  Elephant cracked a small smile. “I’m in the mood to visit my favorite café.”

  Jackal’s grin widened. “Now that’s a fine idea.”

  Elephant’s voice boomed. “We’re going for food and drinks!”

  The warriors erupted in cheers.

  From a high balcony of the castle, the royal children of Xerxes observed the scene unfold.

  Xemena’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… what’s happening?”

  Xander followed her gaze, his mind already working through the possibilities. “Is that… the Xargian Guard?”

  Xhiva barely spared them a glance, more interested in tearing into his roasted meat and ale. “So what? The guards are always patrolling down there.”

  Xemena’s tone was sharper now. “They’re not wearing their helmets. And… they’re leaving the fortress.”

  PFFFT—

  Xhiva spat out his drink in a full spray, gripping the railing with both hands. “WHAT? THAT’S AGAINST THE RULES!” He paused, frowning. “…I think?”

  Deciding this required sustenance, he grabbed a pastry off the table and shoved it into his mouth. “Should we do something?” he mumbled through a full bite.

  Xemena merely shrugged. “I’m sure their commander has it under control.”

  Xhiva exhaled in relief, pouring himself another drink. “Yeah. Dragon’s got it handled.” He took a sip.

  “Dragon was replaced by Mongoose.”

  PFFFT—

  Xhiva spat out his drink again, coughing violently. “WHAT?! When?!”

  Xemena’s glare could have pierced armor. “Brother. You were at the meeting. Did you not listen?!”

  “I HAVE A LOT ON MY MIND RIGHT NOW!” Xhiva protested. Xemena looked at her brother with disgust, “don’t you mean, a lot in your mouth right now?”. Xhiva just gawked at the insult, showing off the chewed food inside his mouth.

  Xander, who had remained quiet, kept watching the group. They had already crossed the bridge, heading straight for the city.

  “Should we follow them?” he mused aloud.

  Xemena stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “Brother, are you mad? If father finds out, he’ll be furious.”

  Xander’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I’m just going out for a stroll.”

  Xemena threw up her hands and walked off. “Talking to you both is like talking to trees,” she muttered.

  Xhiva turned to Xander. “What did she say?”

  Xander gave a nonchalant shrug. “No idea. But I’m pretty sure she said it was a great idea to go for a stroll.”

  Xhiva smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Brother, it’s never a good idea to go for a stroll. Waste of energy. I’ll stay right here.”

  Xander simply nodded and went on his way.

  The townspeople instinctively stepped aside as the soldiers advanced down the street. It was the first time anyone had seen the Xargian Guard without their helmets, and the sight was enough to hush even the liveliest conversations.

  Their march had a purpose—straight to Elephant’s favorite café.

  It was a modest little place, dotted with outdoor tables. Above the entrance hung a weathered wooden sign: a blue sea dragon, its finned body curled into a perfect circle, resembling a pastry. Beneath it, the name was painted in elegant script:

  Seadragon’s Café

  Elephant stepped inside. His presence alone seemed to shrink the space.

  “A table for thirty,” he said, his voice as steady as always.

  The woman behind the counter narrowed her eyes at him, taking in the massive frame, the heavy armor, the familiar baritone. She tilted her head, searching her memory.

  “You sound… familiar,” she mused, still trying to place him.

  Elephant smiled, warm as a sunrise. “I’ll have the usual. Bagel with shrimp, pressed ginger. And honeywater.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “ELEPHANT? IS THAT YOU?!”

  He chuckled and nodded. “It’s me.” Then he gestured behind him. “And my friends would also like to order.”

  The woman peered past him. Dozens of soldiers, their faces finally visible, waved at her in greeting.

  “…Why aren’t you wearing your helmets?”

  Elephant’s answer was simple. “Today is a special occasion.”

  The woman beamed. “I’ll get right on it! We’ll prepare tables outside for you.”

  Elephant gave a grateful nod. “Thank you for the wonderful service—just like always.”

  Inside the café, the staff burst into a flurry of movement, making space for the unexpected, but welcome, army of guests.

  Back at the moat bridge, Mongoose stood stiff as a board, watching the direction they had gone. His mind churned with indecision. Should he follow the Xargian Guard, the soldiers he had been entrusted to lead? Or should he go straight to King Xerxes and report his first impressions?

  A familiar presence approached.

  “I’m sure you’re trying to decide how to handle this.”

  Dragon’s voice was dry, unreadable. She took her place beside him.

  “And I’m also sure you’re thinking,” she continued, “that you could make an example out of me. Whip me in front of the soldiers and the royal family. That way, you’d have their respect. Their loyalty.”

  Mongoose gave a slow nod.

  Dragon’s eyes darkened. “But the Xargian Guard? They’re family. They wouldn’t just sit by and let that happen.”

  Mongoose coughed. His throat felt tight.

  “But I must force them,” he said, more to himself than to her.

  Dragon exhaled, shaking her head. “You can lead cattle to the river, Mongoose. But you can’t make them drink.”

  Mongoose stared ahead. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

  Dragon turned toward him, her voice unusually gentle.

  “Join them.”

  Mongoose reeled back. “WHAT?! BUT THE RULES—”

  “We defend together. Dine together. Die together,” Dragon said, unshaken. “If you truly want to change the Xargian Guard… then start with yourself.”

  She extended her hand to him, palm up. An invitation.

  A challenge.

  Leave the helmet behind.

  Mongoose hesitated. He had two choices.

  One: go to the king.

  Two: follow the rest of the Xargian Guard into the city.

  His mind raced, weighing every consequence, every possibility. His temples ached from the sheer force of his own thoughts. But deep down, he knew. He had to choose.

  In life, when faced with a challenge, most people take the comfortable route. If they can’t make a decision themselves, they push it up the hierarchy.

  Mongoose was no different.

  Just another middle manager under pressure.

  Mongoose turned on his heel and strode toward the throne room.

  Dragon watched him go, then slowly withdrew her hand. With a quiet sigh, she turned the other way—Mongoose to the king, and she, to her soldiers.

  She approached one of the moat guards.

  “Would you mind holding this for me?” she asked.

  The guard blinked. “Holding what?”

  She reached for her helmet, fingers brushing against the clasps, just a breath away from removing it—

  “Commander Dragon,” a voice called from behind.

  She turned.

  “Vice-commander now,” she corrected, bowing slightly as she fastened the helmet back into place. “Prince Xander.”

  The prince smiled. “I saw something unusual,” he said, voice light but knowing. “If I’m not mistaken, the Xargian Guard just crossed the moat bridge without their helmets and walked into town.”

  Dragon exhaled. “The change in leadership is having… unforeseen effects.”

  Xander chuckled. “I can tell. I ran into Mongoose on the way here. Even with his helmet on, his rage was obvious.”

  He changed the subject. “Would you care to walk with me? I’d like to see what the guards are up to.”

  Dragon nodded. “Of course, my prince.”

  Together, they made their way into the city.

  By the time they reached the café, the air was filled with a warm hum of conversation. Laughter, the clink of mugs, the shuffle of chairs on stone.

  The small establishment was packed—Xargian soldiers squeezed around tables, drinking, eating, enjoying themselves.

  “I’ve always wanted to try this place,” Xander mused.

  A woman approached them, treating them like any other customer. “How many are you?”

  Xander responded just as casually. “Two, please.”

  She nodded and pulled out two chairs, setting them near the others. Then, glancing at Dragon’s helmet, she asked, “Are you two also with the Xargian Guard?” Her eyes flickered to Xander.

  Xander smiled. “Well, I’m the prince, but Dragon here is from the Xargian Guard.”

  The woman gave an amused nod. “The prince? Oh, how exciting.”

  Then her expression froze. Her body stiffened.

  “THE PRINCE?!?”

  Xander laughed gently, raising his hands to calm her. “Please, I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  The waiter went pale. “N-No, of course not! It’s just that we’ve never served royalty before!”

  Xander tilted his head, thoughtful. “I’m fairly certain my sister has a servant pick up pastries from here from time to time.”

  The woman looked horrified at the revelation. “I—I’m so sorry we didn’t know that!”

  Xander chuckled. “No need to apologize.” He gestured lightly. “And no need to be nervous either.”

  The waiter inhaled sharply. “It’s on the house!”

  Xander shook his head. “That’s kind, but unnecessary. Please, treat us as any other customers.”

  The waiter hesitated before nodding and hurrying back inside.

  Xander watched her go, then furrowed his brow. “She didn’t even take our orders.”

  A quiet laugh echoed from inside Dragon’s helmet. “No wonder.”

  Xander sighed, shrugging. “Well, I suppose she’ll come back.”

  The rest of the Xargian Guards had witnessed the exchange, and laughter rippled through the crowd.

  "Welcome, Prince!" one called out.

  "Welcome, Dragon!" another shouted.

  Then, as if nothing had happened, they returned to their feast.

  Dragon leaned forward over the table, studying Xander.

  The prince met her gaze, brow slightly raised. “What are you looking for?”

  Dragon exhaled. “I’m thankful.”

  Xander blinked. “Thankful?”

  She nodded. “After all these years… you’re still kind.”

  Xander opened his mouth, but Dragon continued before he could speak—this time, more calculating. “I also expect you to pay for my order.”

  Xander blinked again. “Is it because you’re a woman?”

  Dragon laughed. “No.” She leaned back. “It’s because I beat you in our duel. During the chaos in the capital. At the bridge—remember?”

  A murmur of excitement ran through the gathered guards, a few of them grinning and nudging each other.

  “I’m pretty sure that ended in a draw,” Xander said, crossing his arms. “The duel got interrupted.”

  Dragon nodded. “Yes, but it ended with me at an advantage.”

  The prince scoffed. “I didn’t even have my usual swo—”

  Dragon gasped, dramatically clamping a hand over her helmeted mouth. “Dear me! Is the prince making excuses?”

  The murmuring swelled into full-blown jeers.

  “How unbecoming of a future king!” someone called.

  “Take responsibility, Prince!” another added.

  Xander, suddenly finding himself on the losing side of a battle far more dangerous than any fought with steel, smiled in surrender.

  “All right, Dragon. I’ll pay for your order.”

  Just then, the waiter returned, looking flustered. “I’m so sorry—I forgot to take your orders.” She slid a menu onto the table.

  Xander grabbed it quickly, scanning the options. There weren’t many. “I’ll have the chicken salad, the dragon pretzel, and a glass of water.”

  The waiter scribbled it down, then turned to Dragon. “And for you?”

  Dragon glanced at the menu.

  “Thirty shrimp bagels. All toppings. Thirty goblets of your finest wine. Thirty cream desserts. Thirty small bowls of nuts. And a drawing of a dragon, hand-drawn by your chef.”

  The waiter smiled as if nothing was amiss. “Coming right up!”

  She left.

  Xander stared at Dragon. “Why the drawing?”

  Beneath her helmet, Dragon was clearly smirking. “To distract you from the rest of the order.”

  The entire Xargian Guard erupted in laughter.

  Xander sighed, shaking his head. “And are you actually planning to eat all of that?”

  Dragon shrugged. “If I can’t finish it, my friends will help me.”

  The guards cheered, raising their drinks to their demoted captain.

  Dragon exhaled, her voice steady. “We defend together. We dine together. And we die together.”

  The cheers only grew louder.

  Xander smiled. “Then I suppose this is my total victory.”

  Dragon tilted her head. “Don’t you mean your loss?”

  He shook his head. “Getting to dine with the Xargian Guard…” He glanced at her. “It’s a privilege.”

  She scoffed but didn’t argue.

  Xander leaned back in his chair. “So, what do you think of your new commander? Mongoose?”

  Dragon exhaled. “I’d prefer a different subject, if possible.”

  Xander nodded, unfazed. “How’s your friendship with Xemena?”

  Dragon sighed again. “An easy question would be nice.”

  Xander didn’t press her, simply waiting.

  Eventually, she gave in. “It’s… frosty.” She tapped her fingers against the table. “Ever since I joined the Xargian Guard—well, that was years ago now. I still cherish our childhood memories, but I have never once regretted my decision. It was my choice.” Her voice lowered. “I just hope that everything we built back then doesn’t get destroyed under the new leadership.”

  The waiter arrived, placing their meals in front of them. Xander took a bite of his chicken salad. Dragon, with practiced ease, lifted a piece of her sandwich under her helmet, guiding it to her mouth from beneath her chin.

  Xander swallowed. “How’s your family?”

  Dragon let out a long breath. “Another difficult question?”

  Xander merely waited.

  She finally answered. “It’s… complicated.” A pause. “They still send letters from time to time.” Her fingers drummed against her goblet. “But my parents never approved of their daughter—a noble—choosing to join the Guard.”

  The waiter placed a goblet of wine before her, complete with a straw, a common courtesy when serving a Xargian Guard. She took a sip.

  The waiter hesitated before asking, “Excuse me, Miss Dragon, where would you like the remaining food to go?”

  Dragon gestured toward the surrounding soldiers. “Share it with the rest.”

  A cheer erupted.

  “Dragon is the best!”

  “Forever our leader!”

  Xander watched the display, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Their loyalty was unwavering.

  After a moment, he spoke again. “So why did you join the Xargian Guard?”

  The mood shifted. The warmth of conversation and laughter cooled, replaced by something heavier.

  Utensils paused. Drinks were set down.

  Xander glanced around. The entire place had stilled.

  Dragon leaned in slightly. “I’ll tell you later.”

  And just like that, the tension dispersed. Conversation resumed, and the night carried on.

  Hours passed.

  When the time came to leave, Xander called over the waiter. “I’ll cover everything.” He pulled out his pouch.

  The waiter beamed. “Thank you, Prince!”

  As the Guard filed out, each soldier clapped Dragon on the shoulder as they passed.

  Then, Chameleon strode by with a smirk far too wide. “ENJOY YOUR DATE, DRAGON!” His voice dripped with amusement—too much amusement.

  Without missing a beat, Dragon muttered, “Toss him into the moat from the bridge.”

  Immediately, several Xargian Guards grabbed him like well-practiced executioners.

  “AGAIN?!” Chameleon yelped, thrashing in their grip. “HOW MANY TIMES MUST I SUFFER?!”

  “Until you learn to think before you speak.” Dragon took another sip of her wine through the straw.

  The guards, unbothered, hauled the shrieking Chameleon away, heading back to the castle.

  Dragon stood once they were gone. “Regarding your question—care for a walk?”

  Xander rose as well. “Of course.”

  And so, the two began their stroll through the capital.