In the aftermath of the battle, Kalden led the others into the cave. None of them were particularly eager to enter, but the knight, despite his grievous wounds, wanted to make certain that the owner of the horse—or anyone else inside—might still be alive.
Within Argar's lair they discovered a hidden palace carved into the stone itself. Amphorae lined the halls, murals adorned the walls, magnificent woven carpets threaded with gold covered the floors, while paintings and marble busts stood throughout the chambers. Most of them depicted Argar himself, feeding the Minotaur's boundless vanity.
Other murals portrayed naked women running through moonlit forests. The air was thick with the scent of frankincense and myrrh, while steam drifted from hot springs flowing through the rock, where it mingled with flames burning in braziers and torches. Deeper inside they found headless corpses, bodies impaled on stakes, and others crucified upon towering poles, their blood completely drained from their flesh. The horse's master, along with everyone else, had been butchered in different ways—some ritually, others with crude, savage brutality.
Three women, however, were still alive.
Their figures were slender, their faces beautiful, and their skin gleamed with fragrant oils. Kalden rushed to help them, only to find them barely responsive. They had been drugged, saturated with unknown substances, kept by Argar in a perpetual haze of intoxication.
"We have to help them," he said, his gaze clouded and captivated by their beauty.
"Let's help ourselves first," Darma replied.
"Who are they?" Maynar asked as he prepared bandages and medicinal herbs. He picked up a discarded helmet and used it as a pot to brew a remedy.
"Noble ladies."
"How do you know?" Arsik asked.
"You can tell. Their clothes, their faces... the way they carry themselves. These women are bluebloods. They could be the daughters of a nobleman, a lord, a Castellan... perhaps even a Baron."
"They were certainly the Minotaur's brides," Darma said dryly, though the women's beauty was not lost on him.
Payl stood in one corner, his body torn to pieces. The smile had never left his face.
"You," Darma said.
Payl immediately straightened.
"Master?"
"I'm not... Stop calling me that. How did you do it?"
"What, Master?"
Darma stared at the Sirakrat's arm. It wasn't merely scarred—it had been split open to the bone. By all rights it should have been useless. Yet not only had the arteries and tendons somehow remained intact, Payl showed no sign of being hindered. If anything, the wound had already begun to close.
"By the gods..."
"It's Blood Magic, Master. It's called Kantas. All Sirakrat know it."
"It made you stronger. I saw it with my own eyes. None of us could match that beast, yet you did. You broke through its defenses... blinded it. How...?"
"I already told you, Master. The Blood Brothers are generous. They help us overcome every hardship. I am the Chosen of Blood. A... beast... would never stop me."
Darma fell silent. The others were too badly wounded to join the conversation.
"You," he said again, this time to Maynar.
The poet looked back at him, ashamed.
"If it weren't for the knight, you'd be dead."
"All of us would," Maynar admitted. "Sir, you fought with astonishing honor and brilliance. I've never seen swordsmanship like yours."
Darma spat and laughed.
"Hardly a battle. You talk like that because you've never seen a real bloodbath. He fought well, I'll give him that—but you're exaggerating."
"I'm not exaggerating at all. You should be thanking him. He kept the beast occupied while you struggled beneath that horse."
Darma grunted.
"Watch yourself, poet. I saw you piss yourself. If I come over there, I'll make sure you shit yourself too. You did nothing. You stood there while your companions fell one after another. We'd all have died... and then what? What would you have done?"
"I suppose... I would've died. Horribly."
"Enough!" Kalden shouted. "You're being unfair, Darma. He may not have fought much, but his knife struck the beast's second eye. He finished the Minotaur. He may not have fought from the beginning, but when the moment came, he did exactly what he had to do. That's enough for me. Now we need to decide what we're going to do with the women."
"They're useless."
"How dare you!"
Kalden rose in outrage, only for the pain of his wounds to remind him of his condition.
"I dare nothing, Knight. They've been violated, drugged, and unless I'm mistaken... they're still aroused. Who knows how long they've served as the Minotaur's brides? In the eyes of Lothen, they've lost all worth. Your land, your laws. On the islands they'd still have a place in society, if they wanted one."
"We're going to protect them and return them somewhere safe."
"What next? Marry them off?"
"Silence! I won't tolerate another insult to their honor."
Darma exhaled sharply.
"Very well. I yield. We'll do it your way, Knight. You're the hero, after all. You slew the monster, found the treasure, rescued the princesses. I'd tell you there's even a horse waiting for you outside... but I suppose it's a little too late for that."
Only Arsik laughed.
"What are you laughing at?"
"You got a problem?"
"The last time I saw you fight—and I'm not counting bandits and wolves—you at least knew how to swing a sword. You fought like shit, sure, but you had guts. Charged in like a demon. This time you went down after one hit."
"I've gotten old..."
"So quickly? Maybe you should cut back on the rum."
"The blow I took," Arsik continued, his face swollen, "had the strength of three men."
"And what about him?" Darma said, pointing at Payl.
"He's no man. I don't know what in the seven hells he is... but he isn't human."
Payl simply continued watching them, utterly content, still wearing that eternal smile.
"If I'd had three like you in my crew," Darma said to him, "I'd have conquered the world."