Noise blasted from the crowd as Arthur churned up the dirt patch underneath him to meet Hulvin’s aggressive motion.

The older knight didn’t charge because of his wooden leg and instead stamped his way forward, creating a wall of jangling metal and fury. His sword stayed raised in front of him, in a stance that Arthur didn’t recognize, though it made it hard to think about the best way to slip his cane through to the man.

Even as he tried to keep a level head about the fight, he had to force down the heat that burned through him as he thought about the threats the man had made. How he’d so casually stated the destruction of everything Arthur had worked for.

His skin itched all over as their weapons finally clashed. Hulvin’s swing was strong and precise, his training showing through even the drunkenness. Whatever he thought of the man, Arthur knew he had training he didn’t.

With speed, he swung up his cane to block, his empty hand grabbing the end so he could use both hands to stop the force of the blow. A hollow ringing sound filled the air, and from this close, he could see his opponent’s lip curl over his yellow teeth in a sneer.

Arthur did his best to keep his balance in the loose dirt, even as Hulvin shifted to keep his weight off his prosthetic leg.

“Pathetic.” This close, even that small growl was audible over the jeering crowd.

“Wha—”

Before Arthur could come up with a witty comeback, Hulvin stopped pressing with his sword and hopped to the side. Arthur stumbled forward, his cane held diagonally before him. Laughter and boos peppered the air, and he felt the flat of Hulvin’s blade slap at his back.

When he turned, his opponent had returned to his guard position, clearly ready to restart the fight. While the blow hadn’t hurt, it did little to curb the rage boiling in his chest. As he watched the knight grin from beneath his helmet, Arthur struggled not to scream at him. Once again, his opponent took the chance to speak first, this time with a voice loud enough for the crowd to hear him.

“Did you think there would be no consequences for bringing those monsters to our door? I don’t care what Alyssa says. They are all abominations. I’m doing us a favor by wiping them out.”

Roars of approval came from the knights that had escorted Hulvin into the area. Arthur felt the tide of the crowd turning against him, and he knew letting loose his rage would only cause it to slip further. The last thing he wanted to do was win the fight, but having the people of the compound be so far against him that any deals he struck wouldn’t matter.

No, he needed the book. He needed to make that deal with Cyrus, and most of all, he needed those crafters. They would be huge in setting up Davey’s construction business and all the money that was sure to flow from it.

So he did his best to control his breathing before yelling back. If the man wanted to talk, Arthur would let him. He was far more confident in that than he was in an actual brawl.

“Yeah? I didn’t bring them to your door; you came to mine. I fed your knights and gave them places to train, but your bigotry tore that away. It wasn’t me or mine who attacked your home.”

“They’re yours now!” Hulvin shouted out, once more stomping towards him. “Did you think we wouldn’t hear? You took control of our enemies, and you want to do the same to us!”

Arthur cursed, and this time, he struck first when the knight came into range. His cane whipped through the air, the end smacking into the man’s pauldron with a thunk that made Hulvin tilt and scramble for balance.

Cheers rose from the crowd, and he raised his cane high and brought it down once again with all of his strength. He wasn’t sure what Hulvin did, but with a flick of his sword, Arthur found his cane redirected into the dirt. He stood hunched over, surprised at the sudden change in momentum for a second too long, and Hulvin’s empty fist rocketed into his face.

His mouth tasted like blood as he fell, doing his best to roll away as Hulvin stabbed down. His expression was beyond fury, and Arthur knew there would be no more simple slaps with the flat of his blade. He could hardly think between his aching jaw and the crowd’s jeers.

All he could smell was blood and dirt, but he struggled up and flicked his cane so the shaft was running parallel to his arm. He held the claw-shaped head of his cane between two of his fingers. All the heat filling him caused his throat and head to feel like they were burning. The roar that escaped his mouth sounded brutal, pure rage at the injury.

Hulvin laughed.

“Do you see, Alyssa? You have backed nothing more than another monster from The Pit that wears human skin. Come beast! Your brethren took my leg. Do you think you can do better? Because if you don’t, I’m going to destroy those monsters you employ first, and—”

Arthur was beyond listening. It was time for this fight to change, he knew, and he would change it. With his sights set on the man who dared threaten what was his, he roared and charged, uncaring about any potential consequences.

He lashed out in a move that was half punch and half swipe as he got close enough to reach the man’s face. The knight sidestepped, and he felt the sword slice down his back. Pain blossomed, and he screamed and turned far faster than he, or the knight it appeared, expected.

The claw, his claw, caught the man’s helmet, and he ripped upward in a move he vaguely remembered, as done by Augustus once upon a time. He saw the rest of the man’s face, expressing a mix of rage and terror, as Arthur pushed him away.

Smells hit him then, each breath bringing him the scents of sweat, blood, dirt, and something else. It was familiar, and then it hit him—literally. Gold. He could smell gold. It pulled his attention away from Hulvin as he scrambled to get away as he saw the coins landing in the dirt. Small disks, perfect and shiny.

They called to him, sung in his mind tunes of greed that made the fire inside him flicker and dance. Each time he picked one up, the fire grew, making it easy to ignore the others that pinged off his back and face. Only when he reached the edge of the arena did he look up to see the crowd where the gold had come from. 

He paused, staring at the crowd. They looked angry - no, frightened. His hand shook and his thoughts cleared. The warm coin he clutched was nothing compared to the fire that coursed through him, but he treasured it all the same.

“Monster!” Hulvin screamed, and he turned just in time to raise his arm that carried the cane.

The sword smashed against the shaft of his cane with enough force to shove his arm backward. His shoulder made a clicking sound, and laughter filled the air as the knight pointed toward the crowd, eyes wide as he continued to shout.

“You see them! They reject you, Pit Fiend! Your cursed coins lay scattered. You are nothing!”

“Shut up! This is on you. You wanted this!” Arthur cried, gasping as he slashed back and forth with his cane.

An ear-piercing shriek filled the air as it scratched along the man’s breastplate, and Hulvin stabbed out with his sword. Arthur shifted to the side, his own weapon aimed at what looked like a buckle. The claw caught, and he ripped with all of his strength.

Hulvin screamed. One of his bracers fell to the ground, exposing his arm. A rip ran down the length of his undershirt’s sleeve, and a trickle of blood oozed out of the shallow cut. Pride and satisfaction filled Arthur as he looked at the wound. The first of many to come.

“Don’t look so smug! You think you’ve won?” Hulvin screeched, his sword raised as he stamped forward.

His breathing was loud, and Arthur could see how shallow each quick breath was. More coins flew into the area, but the knight didn’t even appear to notice the few that pinged off his armor.

“I’m going to show you what happens to monsters. What we were trained for.”

“Do it,” Arthur snarled.

Light from the torches that surrounded the arena shone from the blade as it flicked out towards his face. Arthur stepped backward, doing his best to attack when he could. His claw scraped and nicked the armor, but Hulvin kept forcing him backward.

The knight’s swings were heavy, and each sought one of Arthur’s vital organs. The barrage of attacks forced him to block a thrust into his liver, a slash to his ribs, and some jabs at his face. All the while, the surrounding crowd screamed for blood.

His foot hit the barrier soon enough—a rope that signaled the edge of the area. As he did, he stopped, knowing he couldn’t go back any further. The screams were louder now; the knights stood only feet away, but he still couldn’t make out the individual words.

All of his rage and attention were on Hulvin, whose sword continued to almost dance through the air. Even with the heat lending him strength, it wasn’t enough. He took a reckless step forward, trying to get away from the barrier. It was the wrong move and one that Hulvin capitalized on.

With a swift stab downward, Arthur felt the blade enter his kneecap. He screamed as he collapsed, a boot to the face from Hulvin ensuring he ended up on his back. Pain flared as his nose broke, but he still barely felt it with the constant jolts of agony that ran up his leg. 

Never had he felt like this, and even the ever-warm fire couldn’t sway the ice-cold fear that filled him. He couldn’t bring himself to look down at the wound, not that it would have done much good through the tears. His vision blurred, but he still recognized Hulvin when the man crouched down to stare him in the eye. 

There was something else behind the man as well: Two men. Through the tears, he couldn’t make out their features, and he hoped they were coming to help. Their laughter told him otherwise, and that was when he noticed the sack they carried. That he recognized it was the one that he’d placed his money in when he’d gone to bet on Rab. 

What he couldn’t work out was why it was here. 

Hulvin gestured to the two men, his eyes wild as he stared down at Arthur. 

“You wanted gold, monster? Then have it all, and may you drown in it.”

Arthur heard a hissing and the sounds of a horse that sounded so furious. Whatever was happening, he couldn’t avoid it as the men tipped the sack, and his vision was nothing but falling gold.

***

All around him were darkness and heat. The strange golden cocoon even muffled the noise of the crowd. Not even the heat was enough to stop the itchy feeling that covered his body. His skin felt like it was trying to crawl away, but he couldn’t bring himself to scratch.

Pain filled him, both emotional and literal, as he tried to deal with the fact he’d lost. Hulvin would kill him at any moment, he knew. A blade of steel would worm its way through the gold and find his heart. He wondered if it would be cold, such a difference to the heat that radiated from the coins—all five hundred and fifty-six of them.

Arthur wasn’t sure why he knew the exact count, but it hardly mattered now. Pain radiated from his leg, and he held back the urge to cry as the pile shifted around him. His mind raced as he thought about his store. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the mural of the woodland creatures Nyssa had worked so hard to complete going up in flames as Hulvin torched the place.

It would be his last act to cleanse the monstrosities that he believed caused all his problems and a statement to those who might try again. Once again, the gold shifted, causing another wave of pain. He struggled to breathe as they covered his face.

“Would that be how Jemima feels when they take her down? At least Carly hasn’t transformed yet. Perhaps they won’t chase her down for thinking about getting the procedure. Dr. Muriler is away too, though; if they hurt Nyssa, he won’t be for long.”

Weak laughter forced itself out of his throat as he tried to picture what would happen when Dr. Kunibert found out what Hulvin planned. Whatever benefits the sewer entrance got would vanish, along with the knights themselves. It would be bloodshed on a wide scale.

Another shift, and he could see a pinprick of light. All he wanted to do was grasp for it, but he couldn’t move his arms. Still, he focused on it the best he could, willing it to grow. It didn’t, and so he did the only thing he could think of.

He closed his eyes, and he prayed as he lay on the ground, surrounded by gold.

“Epyrth. Mother of dragons. Goddess of trade. I want to make a deal, a trade. Help me, and I will make sure my store survives, so you can continue to collect your tribute. Take it or leave it.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and then, so quietly he thought he’d imagined it, he heard the familiar popping sound.

Do you wish to make a deal?  Cost: Five-Hundred and fifty-six golden pennies Reward: Strength
Yes	No

The message was so different from anything he’d seen before, the shortness of it almost making it appear terse. Without bothering to worry about it, he selected yes. He wanted the strength to save what was his, to protect his hoard, and to stop Hulvin from his plans.

All around him, the coins exploded into balls of fire, and he felt his skin shift. The itching intensified, and it felt like a thousand ants were crawling over him. Inside, the embers roiled, and tiny balls of fire flickered around his body. His suit clung to him, feeling so much tighter than it had been mere moments before.

But the best part of all was that he could no longer feel the pain. Arthur’s laugh sounded strange and gravelly as he rose to his feet. He could hear screams and shouting, and the look of shock and fear on Hulvin’s face made him grin even wider.

His cane was nothing more than a stick, and as he looked down at the green scales that poked out from under his skin, he could see his hands had become clawed. Another look around saw Augustus and Theobold holding off a collection of knights, his employees’ rage clear as they battered anyone who stood before them.

Alyssa stood nearby, screaming orders, though no one appeared to pay her any mind. Mob mentality had taken over, and each wanted nothing more than to escape. As they fled, someone knocked over a torch that spilled oil and flames onto the arena’s rope. It went up, and Arthur couldn’t help but appreciate the warmth on his back.

“MONSTER!” Hulvin screamed. “PIT FIEND! DEMON!”

“NO!” Arthur roared back as he reached up and adjusted his cap, which now sat on his scaled head. “I am no monster. I am no demon. I am no Pit Fiend!”

“Then what are you?” Hulvin’s rage appeared to waver as he stepped back at Arthur’s advance.

“I am the owner of Apocalypse Assortments. I am the conqueror of Diaboli Theatrum. I am the one who will figure out the goddess secrets and end the dragon in the sewer.”

The words poured out of him as he continued to advance on the retreating knight.

“Most importantly? I am the one who will end you.”

Hulvin’s screams of rage cut through the air with the only louder sound being Arthur’s joyful laughter.