Chapter 1.1 – Death to the White Snakes

"Beneath every crown,

there slithers a serpent."

Nest Of Serpents

by E.S.Mare

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Assra Marian Sallister

The Kingdom of the White Snake, Elessmier

"Death to the White Snakes!"

I slammed my glass on the table and kept shouting, cheering for the group locked in a brutal fight.

One glance was all it took to know the Black Snakes were going to win. There were only three of them, but each one was massive. The White Snakes must've been counting on numbers, but even six of them couldn’t compare. They were hopeless.

Someone shoved more betting slips into my hand. I turned to see a man with a beard soaked in grease. Raising his fist in the air, he roared,

"For the Black Snakes!"

His hair was completely white, but I couldn’t tell if it was from age or if he really was one of them. Not that it was hard to tell the difference between the races, normally—but my brain was such a mess that for a moment, the guy looked like three people standing side by side.

What kind of White Snake would cheer for the Blacks anyway?

I thought I knew.

I threw my fist up.

"To the Black Snakes!"

The White Snakes were about to die here. All but one...

"Tell him!"

I turned and found a woman beside me. Her cloak's hood shadowed her face, but as I looked, she lifted her chin just enough for me to see. Not young, not old either.

And definitely not one of them. No glimmer of white scales.

Sharp nose.

Eyes the color of burning amber.

An Owl?

I must’ve drunk too much. There was no way an Owl would show up in White Snake territory, much less a hidden Black Snake tavern buried inside it. No way she’d risk that. My eyes were turning against me before my stomach did.

"Tell him!" she repeated.

Her voice grated like broken glass.

I scowled. "Tell who what? Besides, who are you? Why should I listen to you?"

"Tell him."

I downed another gulp, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and dropped the glass back on the table. "That’s it. No more for me," I mumbled, tongue thick. "Now I’m seeing owls. This is bad."

"He’s going the wrong way," she said, tilting her head like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her image flickered like candlelight.

"Tell him to kill you."

I burst out laughing.

"Sure, sure!" I slurred. "Tell him to kill me. Got it. Wait—‘him’? Who’s him?"

"The Ruler." Her voice echoed like it came from the walls.

"The Ruler," I repeated, grinning.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

What was The Ruler?

My thoughts were an absolute mess. But this imaginary Owl? She was even worse off than me.

"Kill me, The Ruler!" I shouted dramatically. "Is that it? Or maybe like this—" I lowered my voice. "Kill me, The Ruler! I... me..."

My tongue betrayed me.

The Owl didn’t laugh.

"Don’t forget," she said.

"I won’t," I giggled. "Kill me, The Ruler! Or I’ll kill you. Should I say it like that?"

"He has to kill you," she said, voice unsteady. "Otherwise, you’ll doom us all."

In the name of Lesster, Sovereign of the Soil!

"Exactly!" I shouted. It was too hard to hold my head up, so I let it fall onto the table.

"I'm the only madman here! Moelli! Get me another drink or I swear I’ll kill everyone in this room!"

A few minutes later, Fat Moelli slammed another glass down in front of me. I lifted my head, took a long pull. It burned all the way down. My stomach threatened to throw it right back up. I breathed through my nose and waited. Then emptied the rest of the glass in one go.

When the room finally stopped spinning, I realized all the White Snakes were gone. I turned to the Owl—but he was gone too.

"Praise the Sovereign of the Soil. Gone! That proves I can still drink! Proof! Or... whatever!"

I shrugged and rejoined the chaos.

The air was thick with swearing. Someone dumped their drink on a wounded White Snake. Another slammed their mug into the floor.

Moelli shoved another glass my way. I turned to her with a goofy grin.

"I love you!"

"Or maybe you're just drunk enough," she muttered.

Fair. She was pushing fifty, breasts hanging low and a mole like a second nose—but tonight, I loved her. Tomorrow, I might puke at the sight of her.

I reached for the glass—only for it to vanish.

A hand had taken it.

My eyes slowly climbed up that arm.

"Asra!" he barked.

"You’re just another hallucination," I slurred, reaching again.

"You’ll wish I was," he snapped.

Shit. Not a hallucination. Just my living nightmare.

"Busted," I said, smiling. I handed him the slips of money. "Here—take these and pretend you didn’t see me!"

He didn’t say a word. Just stared.

"C’mon," I said. "I won them fair. Gambling."I gestured toward the White Snakes writhing on the floor, blood leaking from busted noses and cracked lips.

"Shame. Look at them. Dragging our whole race down."

I dropped my voice to a whisper.

"Good thing everyone’s too drunk to—what’s the word—notice!"

"You’re drunk too," he growled.

My face twisted into something between a sneer and a squint.

I could barely make out his expression—but maybe I wouldn’t be able to even if I were sober.

"Do you have to find me every time and ruin my night? There are dozens of taverns in the Kingdom of White Snake. Dozens more that are off-limits! And I picked this one specifically to avoid you!"

I jabbed my finger inside.

"This is literal Black Snake turf. I—ch-chose—this dump!"

"Chose. Not 'ch-chose'. You chose it," he said flatly. He glanced around.

"And you sure picked a place that smells like snake shit."

He downed the glass.

Slammed it on the table.

Grabbed my arm.

"We’re leaving. Now."

When I yanked my arm back, he didn’t let go—so I stumbled.

The hood slipped off my head, and just like that, my face and hair were out in the open.

The second he saw me clearly, his brow furrowed.

“What happened to your face... Your hair... What did you do to yourself?”

“Oh, this?” I blurted out. “It’s coal. New look. Come on, ask me why!”

“I’m not asking,” he muttered, yanking me again.

“No—ask!” I snapped.

“Stop making this harder than it is. Let’s go.”

He tugged me forward, and I stumbled right into him.

When he turned, I smacked straight into his back, but he didn’t flinch.

I tilted my head and peeked around him. Three Black Snakes stood directly in front of Vilas—the same trio that had once ground the White Snakes into dust.

I grinned, grabbed Vilas’s arms, rose up on tiptoes, and whispered in his ear, “I told you to ask. They hate White Snakes around here.”

The men lunged at him. Vilas let me go and blocked the first punch, but the second—aimed at his stomach—landed hard. A hit like that from a brute could’ve shattered an ordinary man's ribs. Vilas just doubled over slightly and let out a curse.

“How rude,” I said, pouting. “Such foul language in front of a lady.”

I took a step back and plopped onto the ratty old chair I’d just left. Fat Moelli, as if he’d been waiting for the cue, slid another glass in front of me. I turned to him, puckered my lips, and blew a kiss. “Marry me.”

His thick, crooked lips split into a wheezing laugh. He pointed to Vilas, who was still fending off the men.

“And who is this White Snake?”

“Oh, just some freak in love with me. A White Snake, no less. Isn’t it vile?”

I turned to Vilas with mock revulsion and downed the entire glass in one go.

My stomach rebelled, but I ignored it.

Wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Raised my fist high.

“Death to the White Snakes!”