The room was silent for all of five seconds. It was the silence of a dam about to burst.
"How much flesh?" Skarg bellowed, slamming his fists on the table. "Like, all of it? Or just the non-essential bits? I can regrow skin!"
"What if we make eye contact and the heavens cry?" Nock asked, clutching his chest dramatically. "How could you deny true romance, Captain? It is cruelty beyond measure!"
"What if I accidentally defiled him?" Andras mused aloud, his eyes tracking Zac's movements as he seemingly mapped out a series of highly improbable 'accidental' maneuvers involving shadows and slippery floors. "Just a slip, a trip… oops."
"Can he still touch me then?" Halphas asked, perking up. "He can defile me, right? That doesn't count against the wards, does it? I'm fine with being the objectified one here."
Bune looked around, seemingly furious. "NO! HE IS MINE!" the Middle Head howled, acidic spit flying across the tactical map.
Right Head: "The Captain's orders, everyone! I will ensure he is kept virgin and under strict control!"
Left Head: "Not on the maps! You're getting slobber everywhere! That's the supply line to the southern front!"
Middle Head: "THE VIRGIN IS MAKING ME LEAK! THE HOARD IS FINALLY COMPLETE!"
"YES!" Zac yelled, leaping onto his chair and joining the chaos. "Nock first! To open me up a bit! He has the manners! And then whatever order you want! Take a number! Form a line!"
Nock let out a strangled sound of pure ecstasy. "He chose me!" he cried, pressing a hand to his forehead. Then, with the grace of a swooning maiden, the armored lion collapsed backward in a dead faint, hitting the floor with a deafening crash of plate mail.
Andras and Skarg didn't hesitate. They lunged.
Skarg roared, charging like a freight train. Andras dissolved into shadow and reappeared mid-air, diving for Zac. They collided in a tangle of fur, feathers, and cursing, grappling mere feet from the prize.
Bune's three heads were now arguing violently with each other, four arms flailing as the butler tried to simultaneously protect the maps, enforce order, and claim the virgin for his hoard.
Marchosias didn't shout. He didn't use the Voice. He simply sat down heavily in his chair and slowly, deliberately, placed his forehead on the cool wood of the table. He stayed there, motionless, a monument to despair.
Zac sat back on his chair, grinning like a maniac. 'Any second now,' he thought, watching the brawl. 'Any second now, one of them will break through. I will be captured. I will be ravaged. It's finally happening. My tragic backstory ends here.'
However, before anyone could claim the victory, the war room doors, which had suffered enough abuse for one lifetime, blew open again.
A swarm of angry little puss covered bodies poured into the room.
"LIAR!" shrieked the lead imp, pointing a jagged claw at Zac. "HE LIED ABOUT BREAKFAST!"
"HE TRICKED US!" another yelled. "THERE WAS NO COFFEE!.. OR WAFFELS!"
"THE CAPTAIN SAID TO EAT HIM!" a third screamed, frothing at the mouth. "HE SAID WE COULD EAT HIM!"
The pack of imps, humiliated and hungry, surged forward, a wave of pebbled skin and gnashing teeth. They ignored the brawling lieutenants. They ignored the unconscious lion. They had one target.
Zac's eyes shot open, his grin vanishing. "Oh, shit."
The method acting was over. This wasn't a sexy wrestling match with a hot demon daddy. This was a horde of naked, boil-covered goblins intent on chewing his face off.
"Wait!" Zac yelled, scrambling backward over the table, scattering troop markers everywhere. "I meant… lunch! I meant get me lunch!"
As the first imp's claw snagged the hem of Zac's robe, he yelped, a sound devoid of fear but rich in annoyance. "Hey! These are my only clothes!"
Skarg reacted instantly. With a roar, he shoved Andras aside and lunged, slamming his fist onto the stone floor. A jagged spike of glacial ice erupted from the ground, encasing the lead imp mid-leap. The creature froze in a pose of eternal, toothy aggression.
Zac rolled off the table, scattering wooden battalions across the floor, but two more imps were already airborne.
"MINE!" Bune roared. The butler moved with terrifying speed. Two of his clawed hands snatched the first imp out of the air, crushing it with a wet crunch. His Middle Head lunged forward like a striking cobra, jaws snapping shut around the second imp with a sickening chomp. He shook his head like a dog with a chew toy.
Zac scrambled across the floor, having no time to breathe as the rest of the swarm poured into the room, pointing and screaming accusations of breakfast betrayal. He rolled under the heavy war table, crawling over discarded maps and boots, emerging on the other side to jump over Nock just as the lion knight began to stir.
The lion blinked open his golden eyes, only to find himself staring directly up Zac's robes. A dreamy, dazed smile spread across his muzzle. "Oh," he purred, "I am in heaven again, aren't I? What a view…"
The imps chasing Zac didn't pause for romance. They trampled over the prone lion, their claws scrabbling on his armor.
Zac turned back just in time to see a gruesome miracle. The imps that had touched Nock's armor collapsed, shrieking. Their legs were bleeding profusely, the flesh turning necrotic and filling with pus instantly. He was just as fascinated as he was disgusted but there were still a pack of imps trying to disembowel him.
Zac backed away, but the remaining imps fanned out, surrounding him against the wall. He felt the cold stone against his back. There was nowhere to go.
Suddenly, the world went black and cold. He felt a wrenching sensation in his gut, like being pulled through a straw.
He stumbled, gasping, and found himself on the opposite side of the room. He blinked, dizzy. Where he had been standing a second ago, Andras now stood, wreathed in shadow and surrounded by confused lesser demons. The owlman winked at zac from across the room, his cutlass flashing. With a single, fluid swing, five imps were decapitated before they even realized their prey had swapped places.
Zac staggered, trying to regain his balance, his head spinning from the shadow-swap. He scrambled away from the carnage, but the lack of fear-adrenaline made his movements sluggish and clumsy. It was, he decided, really, really shitty to be running for your life while feeling as calm as a monk on sedatives.
The final three imps rushed at him with jagged shanks.
BANG-BANG-BANG.
The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. The three imps were laying on the floor, motionless, smoking holes blown clean through their chests. Zac stared, shocked. A gun? Who the hell brought a gun to a sword fight?
He looked over to see Halphas standing by the window, blowing smoke from the barrel of a massive, wooden-handled pistol. The eagle smirked, holstering the weapon and flexing a bicep that threatened to tear his uniform.
'Okay,' Zac thought, dazed. 'Guns feel like cheating when everyone else has swords and horses. But buff eagle in a military outfit with a hand-cannon? I'll allow it. I will definitely allow it.'
He started to walk toward the eagle, intending to offer a very personal thank you involving gun oil and fraternal bonding, when a high-pitched shriek made him turn.
An imp, half-crushed but still alive, had crawled out from under the table. It launched itself at Zac, a rusty dagger clutched in its hand, plunging toward his face.
'Oh no,' was all Zac's fear-castrated mind could muster. 'That's going to leave a mark.'
He didn't feel the blade. Instead, he felt a sudden, radiant warmth, like stepping out of a dark room directly into the noon sun.
A massive arm hooked around his waist from behind, lifting him effortlessly into the air. There was a shink of steel, a flash of silver light, and a wet thud.
Zac looked down. The imp lay on the floor in two perfectly symmetrical halves, severed cleanly down the middle.
He looked up. Marchosias was holding him, his other hand gripping his longsword, the blade glowing faintly with holy fire that was quickly fading to black. The wolf was breathing hard, his amber eyes wide.
"Did… did you just save me?" Zac asked, breathless.
Marchosias nodded, his voice rough. "You are… important."
Zac blushed, his heart doing that frantic, wonderful thing again. He leaned back against the solid wall of the Captain's chest, letting his head rest on the wolf's shoulder. "My hero," he whispered. "I'll let you do whatever you want to me. Anything."
Marchosias's fur stood on end. He stiffened, every muscle going rigid. He leaned in, burying his nose in the crook of Zac's neck, inhaling deeply of the clean, untouched scent that was driving him mad.
"You do not mean that," the wolf growled, the sound vibrating against Zac's spine.
Zac reached up, boldly stroking the side of the wolf's muzzle. "I mean it," he murmured. "You can totally knot me if you want. Right here. On the table."
Marchosias made a strangled noise. He dropped Zac.
Zac hit the floor with a grunt. "Ow."
He looked up to see Marchosias walking quickly and stiffly back to his seat, his tail sticking straight out behind him, his gait awkward and pained, and oddly enough some smoke was wafting off his shoulders. The Captain practically threw himself into his chair and buried his face in his hands again.
"Bune," he mumbled through his paws. "Clean up this mess. And get the Avatar a chair. A high chair. With straps."