Filippus has spent the next following years of his life fulfilling the role he was assigned, but he's growing weary of the knighthood. It's time to retire, but he's too responsible to ever do that. Unbeknownst to him, destiny will force him to accept the fact that he needs some time to relax. Many thanks to   Silver-Stag / Twitter for this one. While I had the notion Filippus would grow big, this pic still blew my mind!

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Filippus had done it, another successful war campaign. This time it had been in order to fight against the barbarian invasion from the east nation of Karkothan.

The barbarian tribes had united after the late king passed and his land was overrun and drained of all its resources by the unruly warmongers. Wishing to for more food and pillage more cities of their wealth. The barbarian army moved on to attack the kingdom. But thanks to Filippus' expertise in the battlefield, the invasion was swiftly quelled in a matter of a month.

Back at his tent, as he unfastened the straps of his armor, he thought about how much faster this whole ordeal could've been dealt with if Lord Karver had been with him at the battlefield. Grimacing at the wound on his flank he had received from a sword earlier that day, he realized he wasn't as nimble as he used to be.

He had turned forty just a month ago and was already feeling the passage of time. Most of his former comrades had already retired to their lands to tend to them. Even Lord Karver had stepped down from being captain of the royal guard and instead decided to become an instructor for those still seeking to become knights themselves.

While it was true that war was a real factor that affected the land, it wasn't as big of a deal as it was before, everything nowadays was solved with diplomacy. The only reason they had to fight this time was because the other side was ruled by a pack of hardheaded morons.

His time as a knight was ending and he knew it, perhaps it was time for him to leave things to the next generation. He had a city to tend to as its lord after all. It was time for him to put on his title of Count to use.

******

Two years had gone by. After stepping down from his position as supreme commander of His Majesty’s royal army to the shock of many, he had spent his free time finally remodeling the castle he inherited from Lord Borzz. And governing the now prosperous city of Breggmorth.

He had poured all his money into making a marvelous city, but he had never actually bothered to fix his own living quarters, and it had become quite the gossip for tourists and other nobles who mistook the place for some ruins at the center of the beautiful city.

His citizens implored him to start thinking about himself a little. He felt really touched when everyone in the city decided to help him out with this task, but at the same time, he felt like he could be doing so much more for them.

His entire persona of a virtuous knight had become the dominant side of his entire being, selflessness and servitude were his cross to bear and no one else's. It was a maddening thought, but he didn't know how to break free of his own self-imposed order.

When a letter from Princess Amelinna arrived, urging him to go back to the capital, Filippus dusted off his old armor and headed out without a second thought. He had been waiting for a chance to be needed again, and this was it. He didn't know how much he would regret his own impetuousness despite his age.

The letter he received detailed how the King's mental health had been on the decline and how members of the royal court were starting to make their own movements in order to seize as much power as possible now that their monarch was so easily swayed.

The meeting with the princess was straight to the point, she had been gathering her allies in an effort to do some damage control around the kingdom and to keep the greedy royals from draining the land out of every resource imaginable.

Since Lord Karver was already helping her by keeping the war orphanage from closing due to lack of funds, her other concern was with the recently annexed kingdom from which the barbarians invaded from.

A year ago, a new dungeon had been discovered in the underground catacombs right under the ruins of King Attem's castle. The royal salamander was well known for his unfathomable greed and voracious appetite. His dealings in dark magic had also been well documented. The legend said that before he died, he cursed all of those who opposed his ways of living but at the same time invited them to an eternal feast inside his banquet hall.

While Filippus wasn't much for ghost stories, he had dealt with his fair share of sorcerers, and knew how much trouble they posed to anyone they deemed as their target. The story didn't end there though. This new dungeon was host to a very peculiar but nonetheless powerful curse that had claimed the lives of many adventures already. And one that a particular cunning lord was planning to use to gather him a huge revenue.

When she requested his aid, Princess Amelinna was hoping for Filippus to lead and train a group of devoted knights to form a rescue squad, to ensure the safety of the ones venturing inside the place to try and steal the rumored mountains of gold King Attem had amassed in this lifetime.

Feeling his need to be of use for those he served filled Filippus with enough conviction to accept her request, but before he could mobilize his forces, he inquired more about the curse in effect. Princess Amelinna took a long sip of her tea and with a side eye and a wry smile proceeded to explain the curse's effects as according to the report.

******

It's been four months since Filippus established his camp alongside his men. When he first learned of the inner workings of the curse he found himself more than a little dumbfounded. A curse that could fatten up people was certainly preposterous, but after witnessing its effects firsthand he had to believe it.

Foods appearing out of thin air, living floors and walls that change paths on a whim. Voices and apparitions beckoning you to indulge in the cursed meals. If it wasn't for the gifts bestowed upon them by St. Leenix of the Church of The Ashen Tree, they would've been amongst those being treated at the healers tent. Their big bellies pinning them to their beds, still drunk on the afterglow of their episode of ravenous hunger.

He saw many fit brave warriors enter the place only to come out as ball shaped, belt-buster buffoons. Their clothes and armor torn and warped by their rapidly expanding bodies. What's more, the curse slowly made them addicted, and the more times they tried their luck inside the place, the more they became seduced to the prospect of overindulging and kept on getting larger even outside of the dungeon.

The sheer notion of losing oneself on such undiluted desire was beyond someone's trained mind like that of Filippus. He felt sorry for the ones that didn't have any idea of what was happening, but then he thought about those who had already experienced the effects it had on their bodies and still wanted more, he only had harsh words for them.

But he wasn't here to feel sorry though, he was here to make sure no one fell prey to the dungeon. At first, he and his men tried to cut off the area, but there were so many stragglers trying to get inside that it became almost impossible to deal with them without getting into constant fights. So, they decided to open up the area again to avoid unnecessary casualties.

One of his men had the idea of creating a log to know which and how many adventures went inside the place. That way they would be able to monitor the situation in a way.

Closing off any other entrances and keeping watch in those tricking spots where others might try to sneak in, they managed to form a system around the whole thing.

They had issues at first, but after explaining what was happening and the effects of the curse to everyone present, they all reached an agreement. Since they couldn't stop all of the adventurers from trying to get inside, they would still limit the amount of people that could get in.

Many adventurers voiced their disapproval at first but seeing that Filippus and his men were the only ones able to retrieve them from the dungeon without getting lost or being affected by the curse made them realize they held the upper hand.

They also implemented the "number of attempts" system, which dictated that each adventurer had only three chances at trying to get the treasure; after that, their entrance to the dungeon would be denied. He didn't specify that the other reason was that at that point, the afflicted became too big for them to carry them all outside at once without leaving someone behind to keep on eating non-stop.

The magic food inside the accursed place was so addictive and fattening that just spending time there without protection guaranteed that you would put half your weight in less than an hour. When they tried to go back for the rest, they would be gone, transported to another part of the labyrinth that would take more time to explore and more time for the victim to get even bigger.

Looking for the massive ones becomes a waste of time, once they reach a certain size. They are whisked away to a place the morbidly obese adventurers call The Hall of Endless Banquets, where the chosen ones are able to partake in an endless buffet of decadence alongside King Attem for eternity, never to be seen again.

Speaking of this so-called Hall, former adventurers no longer allowed to enter the dungeon have formed some sort of cult centered around the late king. Their members are usually trying to sneak in to become part of the guest at his table, but given their large sizes, they are easily caught.

But while that might've been vexing, Filippus' biggest concern at the moment was the increasing number of charm and food vendors who have started surfacing all around the area, obviously trying to take advantage of the situation.

Filippus felt bad for having to revoke their permits, but they weren't helping dissuade the situation. But even his presence couldn't do anything against the ones that had the royal crest in their papers.

As princess Amelinna had predicted, some nobles were already taking advantage of the situation, and judging from where most of the ore and stones used in the amulets were from mines belonging to one noble family in particular, he knew why he wasn't able to do anything about the merchants littering the place.

As soon as Sir Filippus had reached a conclusion, one of his men told him there was a visitor in his tent. When he saw the emblem across the powerful chests of the horsemen pulling a gaudy carriage parked right outside his tent, he knew his suspicions were right, and that the person waiting inside was about to make his mission much more difficult.

Noble: "Oh, good afternoon Lord Filippus, apologize for intruding on your quarters. But I think we need to talk. Please have a seat. Care for a cup of tea?"

As soon as the slender crow said that he gestured to the empty seat across from him right at the edge of the table covered in a fancy tablecloth that hadn't been there when he left this morning. He sat with a heavy thud, his armor's clanking breaking the silence as the slick crow sipped on his cup of tea with a pleased expression.

Duke Lazarus Pontificus Alexander the Third, he had recently become head of his family's state, alongside inheriting the family mines, which was from where all those vendors were getting their supplies. He had made strong connections with other noble families and certainly had the ability to throw his weight around the royal court.

Despite his frail appearance and relatively young age, he was someone to be wary off, after all, he had managed to dispose of many obstacles on his way to get what he wanted, and the fact that he was talking to him right now only meant he was probably next on his list, unless…

Lord Lazarus: "I have a proposition that might be of interest to you, Lord Filippus, care to listen to me?"

To summarize, Filippus would stop interrupting his business and Lord Lazarus wouldn't have to disrupt his and Princess Amelinna's little rescue operation. Cooperate and everyone gets to be happy in the end.

It was simple, Filippus would turn a blind eye to Lazarus meddling, and he would continue trying to pretend to have everything under control. An easy order passed on as a request. All Filippus had to do was consent.

Captain Filippus: "No."

That was the word spoken by the older and imposing stallion. A resolute answer for sure, and one that was to be expected of him. All Sir Lazarus could do was chuckle a little. He mentioned he would depart in the morning. But before leaving the tent.

Lord Lazarus: "A fitting answer, as expected from the valiant and stern Sir Filippus whose armor shines so bright it blinds his enemies, too bad it also blinds the wearer of shadows he has cast around him."

And on that cryptic note, he left. Although Filippus knew when he was getting threatened, he couldn't do anything about it. Writing a letter to Princess Amelinna informing her of this development seemed like the most prudent choice. He was already exhausted and told his men he would be turning in for the night.

Falling asleep that night proved to be a monumental task, his mind still had a lot to ponder regarding what Sir Lazarus had spoken. He was well aware that corruption had seeped deep inside his own forces. A lot of his men were getting bribed, and some were charging for their rescue services. It wasn't all of them, but the fact that there were more than a few came to show how much honor and honesty had fallen out of fashion. Or perhaps he had been so blinded by his own portrayal of a perfect knight, that he never saw the signs in the first place, or maybe he refused to see them.

Moments before sunrise, he was awoken from his slumber by his men. Apparently Sir Lazarus had gone missing, and they were looking out for him. It happened a little after he went to his tent to rest. None knew where he was until a merchant already setting up her shop mentioned she saw the fancy dressed crow heading to the palace ruins unchaperoned.

Heading straight there, he questioned the guards standing post if they ever saw Sir Lazarus approaching the place. It didn't take long for Filippus to notice how the guards had been hypnotized by looking at their blank stares and the same slurred responses they gave word by word over and over.

He decided to go inside the labyrinth with his group of men scheduled to be on patrol at that hour. Blood rushing in, his mind racing a mile per hour. What was Sir Lazarus thinking? Was this another one of his ploys? Or was he actually curious about the place? No, he'd never do something so stupid as to walk inside this place alone.

Ringing the holy handbell given to them by the church's saint restructured the swirling path ahead of them. Filippus had seen it a lot of times already, but it never ceased to amuse him. Still, it had been twenty minutes since they entered, and there still was no sign of Sir Lazarus. At this point, adventures usually started up eating the food they brought with them in order to keep at bay the increasing hunger pangs.

While the sacraments of the handbell fixed the path, they didn't get rid of the luscious food that lined up passage from wall to wall. The rich aroma dominated the air and sent a chill down to the spines of the rescue squad. Even after they were being protected from the curse, they could still fall to it if they ever decided to eat a single morsel from the food inside the place.

You see, in order for the blessed medallions to work, each of them had to make a vow of complete abstinence, if they ever decided to break said vow and partake of feast this cursed place offered, the protection of the medallion would wear off and the rebound of the curse would be catastrophic for the offender.

But Filippus wasn't worried about that, he knew his men wouldn't break so easily, yet still, what was this nagging feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. Was he worried about Sir Lazarus, maybe, he was an unsavory fellow but even he didn't deserve to spend eternity eating all the… delicious things this place offered…

At the moment he thought of that, he realized he was calling the food of this place delicious looking. Was he hungry? He skipped supper last night after his meeting with Sir Lazarus, but even he couldn't be this hungry just because of that. He had spent a long time with no food when he was at the front lines during the war. Could it be the curse!?

The moment he thought of that, the more he could feel the pit forming in his stomach wasn't from worry, but hunger. He thought about leaving the place at once, but he knew how bad that would be for him, putting his leadership into question at this time was the best idea. So, he marched on, deciding to push through the labyrinth and get Sir Lazarus fancy feathers out of this place as fast as he could.

There was a fork in the hall up ahead. In the middle of it, a round table with numerous pies of different sizes piled on top of each other. One of Filippus' men asked what they should do. Keep going as a unit or divine in pairs. Filippus' wasn't listening though, he was looking at the table, specifically, the largest pie in the pile. It was potato pie, his favorite.

His mouth was watering the moment he thought about the savory flavor, involuntarily flaring his nostrils to get a better smell, but inadvertently getting hit by the aroma of the whole display around them.

A deep rumble coming from his own stomach brought him back to reality. His men looked at him with expressions of bewilderment. An awkward silence filled the room, and for the first time in a long time Filippus found himself lacking the words.

Knight: "O-Ok, The Captain and I will investigate the left corridor. You two go down the right one, we’ll meet back here in an hour. Ready Sir?"

Filippus could only nod as he followed his man down the path, still feeling the piercing stare of the rest of his squad from behind.

Sir Gustaf was the son of farmers hailing from the west. Like Filippus, he had been taken in by a noble and trained to become a knight. Similar backgrounds gave the two a sense of kinship, and his noble and sincere disposition made Filippus trust the much younger rooster.

Captain Filippus: "You have my gratitude Sir Gustaf. I… I think I lost myself there for a moment. Your ability to take over command and your fighting instincts are quite formidable. You would make a great leader one day. I would gladly put up a word of recommendation to Princess Amelinna about you being part of his Majesty's royal guard."

Gustaf: "You flatter me Captain, but I still have a lot to learn from the likes of you before I could join the royal guard. Besides, I'm just a knight, not a noble. I'm grateful to be able to serve the crown, even if it is from the sidelines."

Captain Filippus: "You just proved my point. Your humility and devotion make you the perfect candidate. So please, reconsider my offer. It is honest souls like yourself that are rare to come by during these changing times."

Saying this, Filippus took the lead, proud of the fact that knighthood would still be around with men like Sir Gustaf willing to uphold the creed. The imposing stallion felt so inspired that he fell to notice the pained look of guilt Sir Gustaf had painted across his face.

…

It had been almost an hour since Filippus had that exchange of words with Sir Gustaf, the inspiration he had felt had been slowly obscured by dread. The rumbling sounds of his stomach were hard to ignore. Everywhere he looked, temptation laid exposed for his taking. Cold sweat poured down his forehead as the steamy aroma of recently cooked meals and baked goods filled the air. Salivating but gritting his teeth, he marched on.

Sir Gustaf was keeping a close eye on him from the back. No doubt he was able to hear Filippus' cries of hunger coming from his midsection. Earlier, he had asked his Captain if he was wearing his medallion of protection, to which Filippus responded by showing it to him. At that point Filippus started believing that perhaps the curse had somehow affected him, or maybe, it was just a way of showing his own conviction was faltering. How shameful of him. If they didn't find the missing duke, Sir Filippus didn't know how much more he would be able to resist being there.

Reaching another fork in the road, they decided that perhaps it was best to go back when suddenly, at some distance away from them, they could hear the sound of metal hitting the ground, and with it, the sound of weak moaning. Rushing towards it, they noticed it came from behind a wall.On his Captain's order, Sir Gustaf rang the holy handbell. The wall immediately opened up and revealed a vestibule of sorts. As usual, a grand display of food lined up the walls, but in the middle, a circular table displayed various fancy cakes and sweets. Lord Lazarus was laying on the ground next to it, in a fetal position, a silver tray with various small confections laid on the floor next to him.

Relief washed over Filippus as he knew they would finally be able to get out of there. Kneeling next to him, he prepared to lift the passed-out duke in his big arms. He noticed Lord Lazarus's messy beak and his distended belly, as if someone had stuffed him with a loaf of bread. But it was expected from being in this accursed place. The question remained though, what on earth had possessed him to enter the dungeon in the first place.

Calling for help from Sir Gustaf who had stayed at the entrance, he immediately felt something was off, his battle senses activated but with his arms occupied, he wasn't able to react on time when he felt a pair of gauntlets forcing his mouth open from behind.

At that same moment, Lord Lazarus opened up his eyes and quickly grabbed the first edible thing his small taloned hands could get a hold of and shoved it down Filippus' throat before Sir Gustaf forced his muzzle shut, making the older stallion chew on the chocolatey confections he had just been fed on before performing and over shoulder thrown on Sir Gustaf that sent the armored rooster flying until he landed on the table in front of if them.

Captain Filippus: "WHAT HAVE YOU DO- Arghh!?"

A furious Filippus doubled over in pain before he could stand up. His stomach was demanding attention and wouldn't be denied after having eaten that sweet treat. Savoring the sugary mix of chocolate and nuts in the back of his throat. With trepidation, he grabbed one of the fallen sweets and with a big bite, he devoured the whole thing. The nutmeggy sweetness of the spongy cake coupled with the cream cheese melted in his mouth. Next was the tart-sweet goodness of the lemon mini tarts, followed by the minty fresh cream inside the little chocolate squares.

Captain Filippus:(One more and I'll get up, just one more and I'll be able to focus again, just one more…)

Filippus kept on telling that to himself as the speed at which he was eating increased the more he consumed. Beside him stood Lord Lazarus, pulling out a piece of brioche bread from under his jacket while whipping his beak with a handkerchief.

Lord Lazarus: "Ugh, how I HATE having dirt in my face. You know how long I had to wait until you two jesters finally decided to come looking for me? Do you?! I almost died from boredom just walking aimlessly. Watching the walls and paths move loses its novelty after some time, you know. Thank heavens your voice carries; those armors aren't very stealthy either; I was able to hear you approaching and make my grand scene thanks to that… Not that me explaining this would serve a purpose since you obviously aren't listening."

He was right, Filippus had entered a ravenous state, his eyes darting from side to side looking for more things to stuff his mouth with.

Lord Lazarus: "How pathetic, the decorated former leader of His Majesty's royal army, the Count of Breggmorth, the Sentinel of the South, reduced to THIS. Just a starved glutton… HA! Serves you right, you old horse! You should've agreed to my proposal when you had the chance. Now look at you. Where's all that self-restraint and dignity you were so proud of, huh?...Again, you're not even listening to me, huh? Tsk, whatever. I'm tired of this place. Just how long are you going to sit on your ass and watch Sir Gustaf? I need someone to escort me out of this hellhole at once."

Gustaf, who was still laying on the remains of the table, just kept on looking with astonishment at his Capitan. To see him in such a degrading state filled him with guilt. After all, he was responsible for what had happened to him as much as Lord Lazarus.

Lord Lazarus: "Sir Gustaf, TODAY!"

The young duke had grown impatient with the rooster's unresponsiveness. Staggering to his feet, Sir Gustaf proceeded to take the lead. Turning their back to his captain one last time. The moment they stepped out of the vestibule, the wall closed behind them.

Filippus reached out with one of his free hands to them. In between ravenous bites, he told them to wait, but by then, it was already too late. Once he had cleaned the floor of all the food laying there, he stood up and proceeded to clear the dishes lining up the walls, mostly sweets and pastries.

Captain Filippus: (J-just a little more, just one more bite and then… I'll catch up to them…)

He said to himself as he felt his body temperature rise from the exertion along with the fastenings on his armor becoming tighter after each bite. After what it felt like both an eternity and just a moment, he had done it. Not a single morsel remained in sight, he could finally move albeit slowly, perhaps he would be able to look for them, hopefully they would still be nearby, but then for a fleeting moment he thought he could do something savory to go with the sweetness in mouth. As if reading his mind, the wall next to him warped and turned into a path leading to another room, where the smell of creamy radish soup and freshly baked sourdough buns beckoned him. With uneasy steps and holding his swollen stomach, he proceeded onward.

Captain Filippus: "Just one little taste and then I'll move on… I can do this, I can't let myself go, what would they think about me… so hungry. Just one bite, I don't need… more…"

******

Still conflicted over what had transpired, Gustaf guided Lord Lazarus out of the labyrinth. The young duke was getting tired of looking at the rooster's mortified face and after a long time, he finally spoke up.

Lord Lazarus: "Sir Gustaf quit sulking, it looks pathetic on someone of your stature. You surely knew what would transpire tonight, after all, we've been talking about it for weeks. It was you who came up with the idea of switching his medallion of protection for a fake, was it not? The reason I chose your proposal was because sending assassins after him would've been a waste of time, and while poisoning would've been faster, dealing with the aftermath of that would've been a pain in the arse to clean after. Your plan covers all the bases, because it takes care of the target and the cleanup. So be proud of yourself! The position of captain of His Majesty's rescue squad is yours for the taking, and with a little word of recommendation from me, is definitely guaranteed."

It was true, Gustaf's envy and his desire to be recognized had turned him into a glory-seeking traitor. In his mind, he would never be able to shine next to someone like Lord Filippus in command. Everyone was always comparing their similar backgrounds, always reminding him of how much more Lord Filippus had accomplished at his age and his gallantry.

Listening to those comments ate at Gustaf's soul, so when he was approached by Duke Lazarus, asking him if he ever wanted to be something more than what he was, he jumped right into the idea. But still, he never imagined he would feel like this after having done what he did. All those months he had spent getting closer to Lord Filippus had made him truly appreciate how the imposing stallion was able to command his forces, pushing mental fatigue aside and always with enough conviction to move mountains. What's more, the old knight was actually very kind to him, always willing to listen to him and provide him with good advice when needed. In return, Gustaf would listen to his old stories and his thoughts concerning knighthood, that while some would call them outdated, Gustaf took them as a basis to guide his own approach to the title. None of that mattered though, he had just thrown that away just to be able to make himself feel superior. And yet, he felt just the opposite.

Gustaf: "Captain Gustaf, huh? What a joke…"

Reaching the familiar fork from a couple hours ago, Gustaf saw the two other knights still there, playing cards. They hadn't moved from that spot ever since he departed with Captain Filippus, after all, they were in cahoots with the duke.

A warthog named Eustace and a rat named Laurence. They both wanted to get rid of Captain Filippus so they wouldn't have to worry about getting caught in their little extortion business. They were also tired of what they considered Captain Filippus' holier-than-thou attitude. Immediately, they came flocking to Lord Lazarus like flies to fresh excrement. Fools, they didn't know that by doing what they just did, they had become nothing more than his tools, which he could discard at any moment he pleased. Yet again, he wasn't any better. As soon as he was appointed as the new captain, this him, the soldiers of the rescue squad and the whole place in general was about to become Lord Lazarus' property.

Lord Lazarus: "Well, that was fun. Let us just hope next month, you buffoons behave less conspicuously and do a swift job getting rid of your next target."

Gustaf: "Next target?..."

Lord Lazarus: "Why of course, you didn't think this was a one-time deal did you. The Marquess of Drunst has become a thorn on my side for a while. I've been hearing he'd sound a little more than fascinated with getting to know this place. Certainly, a well-known glutton like him would end up getting lost inside a labyrinth full of food."

Just as Gustaf had imagined, Lord Lazarus was about to use this place to get rid of all his enemies at the royal court and Gustaf himself gave him the means to do so. This whole thing was wrong. Even if he claimed the ladder to success, he'd never be able to look at himself in the mirror and pretend to be an ideal knight like Lord Filippus was. At that moment he did what he thought was best to try to fix this mess. While Eustace and Laurence were flocking around Lord Lazarus in an act of shameless pandering, he got close enough to the warthog and snatched his holy handbell out of his belt while pushing the much bigger knight towards the Duke and his other goon.

Lord Lazarus: "Get off of me you smelly big oaf! And what are you doing!? HE'S GETTING AWAY!!"

Laurence had managed to free himself from under his partner's bulk and gave chase to Gustaf but was stopped when the wall of the corridor he went into started twisting and shifting, until it gave way to a set of stairs. He called for the holy handbell, but the warthog didn't have it on him anymore.

A furious Lord Lazarus started cursing at them both for their stupidity and immediately demanded a way out. At that moment, both the rat and warthog looked at each other nervously. Laurence quickly started inspecting the walls, while Eustace stood there looking at the fancy crow with the rustle feathers.

Lord Lazarus: "What are you standing there for you big oaf, this is all your fault, start looking for a way out now!"

Eustace: "Y-Yes my lord!... Umm, Ahh-"

Lord Lazarus: "WHAT! If you have something to say, SAY IT!!"

Eustace: "YEs! Um, you got something on your beak."

At that moment, with a quick movement of his taloned fingers, he whipped something smeared on the left side of his ebony beak. Out of reflex, he licked the thing that was in his finger.

Lord Lazarus: "Ugh, raspberry jam. I hate raspberries… !!"

He didn't notice until it had already happened. He had partaken of the feast inside the labyrinth, and by the time he realized that tiny cracks formed on his own medallion of protection.

******

It had been two hours since Gustaf departed in search for Captain Filippus, he never remembered the labyrinth taking someone so far in. It was as if the place was trying to prevent him from finding his Capitan. He had to keep ringing his handbell constantly to keep the halls from changing constantly. If he had to put it into perspective, he imagined it as what being inside the innards of a beast would be like. When he walked into a section of interconnect rooms, he knew he was getting closer. He kept on moving, going from room to room, until he saw empty trays and platters scattered and then on bigger piles in each subsequent room. He could barely get through the last room due to all the empty plates. Finally out, he saw the path turned left, and the faint sound of armor and chainmail clanking. Feeling hopeful, Gustaf turned the corner, yelling his captain's name when:

“BRRRAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUURRRRP!!”

He stopped in his tracks, that had been the loudest burp he had ever heard in his entire life, he could still hear it echoing through the whole place, but what really caught him off guard was the immense figure blocking the path ahead of him.

Gustaf: "...Captain Filippus, is that you?"

Captain Filippus: "*Huff* Who's…there?"

Even his already deep voice sounded thicker, Gustaf thought to himself as he tried maneuvering his way past his bulk to look at him. Blushing a little when he saw the captain’s pants had ripped at the seat, and his cape was doing a poor job trying to cover his massive orbs. He would have to find something to cover him up later to avoid indecent exposure and further shame of what definitely was ahead for poor Captain Filippus. Once he was in front of him, Gustaf had to take a deep breath so he could take in what he was seeing. Captain Filippus looked already huge from the back, but looking at him from the front made his proportions look even more outrageous. He couldn't believe someone could grow to be his size in such a short amount of time. The chausses and hose had both ripped apart at various places like cheap rags due to the tremendous size of his newly fattened legs. The new flab in his arms had buried all the muscle and Gustaf suspected that the reason some of his armor pieces remained there was because they had become stuck.

By a miracle he was still wearing his chest plate, custom made to safeguard the captain's proud chest, but now, the sturdy piece of metal couldn't contain his abundant breast meat spilling from underneath it. But even his new superfluous chest couldn't compare to the sheer monstrosity of his new gut. Fully exposed for anyone to see. Alone, it almost dragged to his feet and blocked most of the path. Gustaf was almost crushed by it when he was moving past his captain. No wonder his gambeson and hauberk looked like child's clothing trying to cover it.

Now wasn't the time to stare in shock, though. Looking past that chin that had swallowed his neck, past the big, bearded cheeks squeezing his face. Just a glimpse into his unfocused eyes. Gustaf saw how much in distress Captain Filippus was. Forehead beaded with sweat; in fact he was sweaty overall; carrying all the new mass he had gained must be a monumental task. This was all his fault, but he would make it right.

Gustaf: "Captain! It's me Gustaf… I-I know I'm the least rooster you'd like to see, but I'm here to get you out of this place!"

Capitan Filippus: "Sir Gustaf!?... I can't see you… I can't see anything past myself…"

The poor lighting of the place and its narrow space added to Gustaf being much shorter and Captain Filippus' drastic increase in size; all together put the rooster in a sort of blind spot.

Gustaf: "Yes, it's me, Captain! I'm not an illusion. Erm… excuse me if this feels uncomfortable! Do you feel me touching you?"

Gustaf placed his hands on his captain's belly, slightly marveling at how soft yet firm it felt.

Captain Filippus: "Yes, I- I can feel you… Oh, Sir Gustaf, look at me… I- I'm such a failure of a leader, of a knight. Had I known your troubles well enough I could've stopped you from getting involved with the likes of Duke Lazarus. Please forgive me, forgive me, forgive me… I can't do anything now, other than eating. How can I serve the people and the crown like this?... forgive me.."

Gustaf felt anguish in his heart after hearing those words being repeated like a fanatical prayer over and over, but then it turned into worry when a deep rumble from the older stallion's stomach was heard.

Captain Filippus: "Forgive me, forgive me… for I hunger. Can you smell it, Sir Gustaf? Kaiser rolls and onion soup with cheese, mmm… It's waiting for us in the next room."

Drool escaped from Captain Filippus' mouth as he spoke and waddled his way down the dark path. Pushing Gustaf along the way with his bulk, the rooster looked at his face. Eyes glossed over as his thoughts were focused on his next meal. It seemed that the food delirium this place afflicted its victims with had gotten onto him. He needed to act quickly. Getting his captain out of this place and without help would probably be the most complicated task Gustaf had ever done. He was determined though. One way or another, he was going to get him out of here and properly apologize. He had too. For both their sakes.