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Final fight piece!  Mr. Fox Man gives me Anton from Sonic the Hedgehog (SATAM) vibes.

Chapter 8- Battle of the Bedroom

"If any of you knew about it, tell me."  Junior paced his bedroom floor in a velvet night robe, kicking aside crumpled gift wrapping.  "Tell me now and I'll show mercy."

The three Crimsons remained kneeling amidst the curtains and cabinets.

Junior grasped his engraved sword, the one with the gold filigree, and pointed it like a scepter at the face of the girl on the left.

"You took an oath.  To die protecting me."

"Yes, Lord Gr-"

"Well so did Vritra.  She took an oath.  And then she turned on me."

The kneeling bodyguard glanced up.  The tip of Greenwell's sword was resting between her eyes.

"But she could not prevail, my Lord," said the Crimson.  "Not against you."

Greenwell's chest swelled with air, the tang of superiority spicing his wrath.  Because she was right.  Vritra, deadliest of the deadly, and he'd killed her himself.

"But she tried- for some selfish fucking duke!" Junior said.  "It doesn't matter to these people, doesn't matter that I'm making this land a credit to the Empire.  That I keep this town safe from invaders, safe from rebels and agitators."

Righteous indignation suffused him like a narcotic.  Greenwell stepped to his bedside table and took a swig of birthday brandy.

"They've all got food, a roof over their heads, a great ruler-  I'm throwing a party for the whole miserable town!  Cake.  Fireworks.  Gods’ sake.  But it's never enough.  Because greed knows no bounds, no gratitude."

One of the Crimsons risked speaking.

"They will be less inclined towards greed, my Lord, when they no longer take their blessings for granted."

Junior sank into the satin-swathed bed, fingering his katana hilt.

"Take your clothes off.  I have to search you- all of you.  Swords in the corner."

Shrewd move to separate them from their weapons- just in case.  Even if they tried to grab his katana away, he had a dagger and a gun hidden in his robe.  It was that kind of thinking that kept him on top.

He watched them peeling away their robes and armor.

Granted Vritra had probably been working alone- why split the payoff?  But it never hurt to remind people who was in charge.

And anyways- it was his birthday.

They sidled up to the bed just the way he liked.  The bolder Crimson, also the youngest, spoke again.

"My Lord, do I look...  trustworthy?"

"Well," said Junior, "That all depends.  You ought to think up some way to... display your devotion."

Not the Merchants Guild, not the miners with their pathetic uprising, not his brothers, not even the lethal Vritra- he'd survived them all.  He was smarter.  Better.  There was a reason he was the Lord.

Greenwell luxuriated under a blanket of sighs and laughs as his anger crystallized into triumph.

It all shattered with the quiet click of his bedroom door unlocking.

*  *  *  *  *

Xyk followed Rosa into the chamber, his eyes adjusting to the candlelight.  The room was cluttered, and he got the impression of mismatched finery, conveying wealth without taste.  Wallowing in the center was an immense, veiled bed.

They’d been spotted.  In the bed, Junior and a trio of nude Crimsons bolted upright.

The nearest fox dove to the corner, reaching for a cluster of swords.  Rosa darted to intercept, but not fast enough.  The Silk came to her feet, drawing steel as Rosa’s throwing knife flashed across the room like a silent bolt of lightning.

The Crimson's unsheathing strike shifted to deflect the dagger, allowing Rosa to slip close and snap a vicious clawed strike into the fox's bare throat.  Rosa's fist clenched and twisted, sharp.

Blood spurted from the Crimson's mouth.  Rosa didn't hesitate, thrusting her hip and pivoting to throw her assailant against the other two fighters.

Something clattered across the waxed floorboards- the fallen fox had hooked the remaining swords with her foot, pulling them within reach of the others.

The bodyguards retrieved them in a heartbeat, twin gleams flashing in the room.  Junior tumbled from the bed and retreated behind them, his own katana held forth.  Rosa's fan snapped open as she stepped back, calculating.

Xyk suppressed a grunt of irritation.  Everyone with a weapon except him.  Typical.

On the upside, the two Crimsons kept their focus on Rosa.

One drifted right, a sneer stealing over her features.  "All that scorn was justified after all- you traitorous milk-sucking stray."

Her comrade cracked a grin and edged closer.  "You're about to find out why you were the bottom rung, Rosa."

The tips of their swords flashed and feinted, keeping Rosa at bay.  She made feints of her own, metal-backed fan dancing and flaring.  Clicks and tings sounded.  Even so, nips of red began to line Rosa's limbs.  Xyk was outclassed- if he tried to bumble in, he'd disrupt Rosa's precariously maintained range and give the foxes two easy kills.

Junior was standing well back from the duo, near the window.  Xyk locked eyes with him, quirked an eyebrow, and opened his greatest weapon.

"So you're the spoiled moron who killed his own bodyguard out of sheer gibbering stupidity- if I slipped a note in your robe, wouldja give us a repeat performance?"

Junior's eyes went wide, mouth flapping wordlessly as he tried to think around the insults to assess what he'd heard.

He didn't seem to like it.

Uttering a howl of outrage, Junior charged, sword held forward like a pointing finger as he shouldered past his bodyguards. The coyote sidestepped the thrust and put Junior’s sword arm in a bear hug, levering him into a dresser, drawers rattling.  The young Lord thrashed and roared incoherently.  Xyk kept his grip tight, grabbing to keep that elbow locked in place.  Junior pushed with his legs, crashing them both against the cabinetry.

With a sudden clang, Junior's sword flew from his grip.  They looked to see the cause-

Rosa.  Eyes blazing, a katana in one hand, her fan in the other, rivulets of red crazing her ivory limbs.  Behind, the bodies of her opponents settled motionless amidst discarded ribbons and party paper.

Junior wrenched himself free and backpedaled, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.  Nostrils flaring, he looked from Rosa to the dead foxes- as though what he saw was a mistake, an affront that would correct itself if condemned properly.

"You- you bitch!  What the hell!  Look what you did, Rosa!"

She advanced, dribbles of red from her blade tracing a path across the floor.  He took small jerky steps back, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"What, you want money?" he said.  "Are you trying to make a point?  Tell me!"

"Do I need more blood on my face for you to see the resemblance?" asked Rosa, glacial.

"I don't- what?  What?   Listen, I can pay you.  You know I can-"

"You have her father's ring," said Xyk, "Around your neck."

It was almost comical, the mask of confusion that came over Junior's face.  It faded as comprehension dawned, his expression going slack.  Then he snarled.

"You're kidding me!  That was years- you fucking backstabber.  Over that entitled prick?  You gods-damned backstabber!”

"That's not where I plan to start," Rosa murmured.  She drew closer.

Junior stumbled back.  With nowhere left to go, he gripped the sides of the window and leapt into darkness.  Rosa vaulted after him- and, trying not to think about how many staircases they had climbed, Xyk followed.

The night erupted around them in glittering incandescent color.