The princess, seated at Aeson's left, had watched them closely from the moment they entered.
Her light blonde hair cascaded past her tailbone, half gathered into an intricate braided bun while the rest flowed freely down her back. A few thin braids framed her face, their delicate weave contrasting with the strong presence she exuded.
She was stunning—her espresso-hued skin a striking contrast against the black and gold tunic that clung to her lithe frame, subtly accentuating her curves. There was no mistaking her lineage; she bore an uncanny resemblance to her father.
Her stormy gray eyes swept over Ceremus, taking his measure in a single glance, before shifting to Hael. Unlike before, her gaze lingered. A faint, indecipherable smile tugged at her lips before she finally looked away.
Aeson continued with a few more formalities before summoning his most trusted knight to deliver a report on the creature that plagued their gates.
"As you may already know, the beast—the Sphinx—has laid siege to our city's entrance, allowing passage only to those who solve its riddle. Any who fail are struck down instantly. No one has been able to answer it." The knight's voice grew tight. "We summoned our wisest scholars, our brightest minds… but none succeeded. None lived long enough to do so."
Ceremus, outwardly unimpressed, listened with sharp intent. A discrepancy in the knight's explanation made him narrow his eyes.
"How did you determine that answering the riddle was the key to survival?"
The knight flinched, flicking a nervous glance toward the king. Aeson gave a brief nod, granting permission to speak.
"We sent men out with communication stones," the knight admitted. "Through them, we were able to hear everything that transpired."
"I see." Ceremus exhaled slowly, tilting his head. "So I'm here because you've abandoned all attempts to solve the riddle and now seek brute force as your solution." His golden eyes gleamed with quiet menace. "Not once did it occur to you that I might be capable of answering it myself."
The knight paled. "O-Of course not, Your Majesty, I—I wasn't trying to—"
"Undermine my intelligence?" Ceremus cut in smoothly, voice deceptively light.
The air in the throne room grew heavy, silence stretching taut between them. Those gathered shifted uncomfortably, uncertain whether to intervene or remain still as the King of Trojas, his expression like carved ice, regarded them with cold amusement.
Princess Emani watched the exchange unfold, amusement flickering in her gray eyes. It was rare—if not unheard of—for her father, a man renowned for his silver tongue, to be at a loss for words. She had to resist the urge to laugh, instead pressing her lips together to stifle her amusement.
Her mother, the Queen, caught the subtle movement. A single glance was all it took for Emani to straighten, composing herself once more.
Meanwhile, Hael and Loki could feel the temperature in the room drop. A quiet, simmering rage emanated from Ceremus, though it was masked under a layer of mild amusement, it was obvious to the pair that his patience was thinning with every passing second, and that mask would unravel itself soon enough. Loki, ever perceptive, sensed that things would take a turn for the worse if the king was provoked any further. Had it not been for Hael's steady presence beside him, Ceremus might have already abandoned restraint.
~*~
They arrived at the city gates an hour later, now standing face-to-face with the beast.
The Sphinx was unlike anything Ceremus had ever seen.
It possessed the powerful body of a lion, the chest and head of a woman, and massive bird-like wings that stretched ominously behind it. A grotesque fusion of creatures—one that exuded an aura of malevolence so strong it prickled against the skin. Yet, unlike the sheer terror he had felt when facing the Kakoethes, this monster stirred something different within him. A deep-seated revulsion. A simmering, inexplicable rage.
"What kind of abomination is this?" he sneered.
The knights flinched, shifting uncomfortably as the Sphinx's piercing yellow eyes locked onto the king.
The creature's glare was sharp, filled with unmistakable fury—proof that it had understood him.
That, of course, was no surprise. This was no mindless beast; it had spoken to its victims, weaving riddles before delivering their doom.
Ceremus scoffed. "So it's not just another dumb monster, then."
Loki shot him a glare. "Could you please refrain from further enraging the beast?" he said, mirroring the unspoken plea of the surrounding knights.
Ceremus ignored him, instead glancing at Hael. The guard returned a silent nod before stepping forward. He handed Loki over to a nearby knight, then moved in alongside his king.
The Sphinx regarded them with undisguised loathing. It bared its teeth in a sneer, already envisioning the agony that would soon twist across their faces—particularly Ceremus'. The thought alone sent a cruel thrill through its veins.
"I see you humans have once again come to throw your meaningless lives away," it said, its voice a deep, rumbling growl.
The words sent a shudder through the assembled knights, its sheer power sinking into their bones.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't compare me to the pathetic humans you've slaughtered," Ceremus said, his voice dripping with disinterest. "Now, give us your idiotic riddle already."
A snarl tore from the Sphinx's throat, its claws scraping against the stone as though it were seconds away from lunging at him. But then, something shifted. Amusement flickered behind its yellow eyes, a glint of sadistic pleasure replacing its initial fury.
"Very well," it said, its voice a thunderous echo through the air. It lifted its chin, sizing the king up.
"What walks on four feet in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three at night?"
Ceremus frowned. Is this thing serious?
The knights standing at a distance held their breath, awaiting the moment the king would cut the beast down. But what happened next would forever be etched into their memories.
"Man," Ceremus answered lazily. "As an infant, he crawls on all fours. As an adult, he walks on two legs. And in old age, he uses a walking stick. Isn't that obvious?"
The shift in the Sphinx's expression was almost comical. Its sadistic delight melted into stunned disbelief. It had never expected anyone to answer its riddle—let alone correctly. For centuries, its entire existence had hinged on this single question, an unshakable certainty that no one would solve it. And yet, here stood this man, effortlessly dismantling its power in mere seconds.
Shock twisted into rage. Its yellow eyes flared with fury.
Sensing the danger, Hael's hand flew to his sword, unsheathing it in one swift motion. But before he could charge, Ceremus stopped him with a raised hand.
"Did I answer correctly?" he asked, his golden eyes shimmering with taunting amusement.
The sheer arrogance in his tone only enraged the beast further.
"What is wrong with King Ceremus?!" one of the knights blurted in a panic. "Why does he keep provoking that monster?!"
Loki let out an exaggerated sigh, ruffling his feathers. "Because he's a barbarous monster himself—one who takes pleasure in annoying others," he muttered.
To the knights, however, it only sounded like the unintelligible coos of a bird.
The Sphinx let out a piercing roar, flapping its wings with such force that the ground beneath them trembled. A violent gust of wind surged through the air, sand whipping in all directions. With a single, mighty push, it launched itself from its stone perch, soaring toward them.
It landed with a thunderous crash, shaking the earth beneath its massive lion's body, muscles rippling beneath its golden fur. Its humanoid face twisted in unbridled rage, wings spread wide like a shadow of death.
And it glared down at the two men, ready to tear them apart.
Its eyes gleam with intense displeasure, its lips curling into a feral snarl. The ground trembled with every step it took. The knights on standby could feel their body shaking as they felt its tremendous power even from afar. They were silently glad they weren't the ones having to face the beast, and in awe that the king and his guard were able to stand so firmly even when face to face with its daunting glare.
"I shall destroy you for your arrogance, you stupid human," it said. With a terrifying roar, the Sphinx launched itself forward, its powerful legs propelling it at lightning speed.
Ceremus finally let Hael go as he charged towards the Sphinx, sword in hand. The king on the other hand begrudgingly took out a weapon of his own as he attacked the monster. Its massive claws flashed towards Ceremus, aimed to tear him apart in an instant. But the king was quick on his feet. He dropped low, rolling under the creature's sweeping strike. The Sphinx's claws raked through the air, leaving only dust behind as Hael moved forward, drawing his sword, ready to cut its arms down.
The two men fought hand to hand as they dodged and invaded its attacks with perfect coordination. But the monster wasn't going to let itself get defeated.