The Price of Peace (Completed)

[Farrelei]

There was now a black cloud to the east. Flashing of orange occasionally spluttered to life and died quickly, as though the cloud was a storm of red.
It looked somehow beautiful, but the officer that was dispatched thought it would have looked nicer at night.
He was slightly confused. They said the attack was only small-scale, and yet here he was, staring out as clusters of screaming civilians burst into his line of vision.
They were not far from the gate now.
He knew his measly unit would not survive whatever it was that was attacking right now alone.
He sent for backup, before sending in the first wave.
"What an irriatating dawn."


It was a while before the carriage, led by the Imperial escort arrived at Market Square.
Gradually, the seemingly abandoned city showed it's signs of life.
And here, at the heart of the square, the people were running and bustling about.
The escort knew they weren't supposed to go this way usually, but it felt odd for the representatives to be arriving without welcome.
Appareantly, word of the attack had gotten around. He could tell by the cloud in the distance that the fighting was still far from their position, but the faces of some certain people showed that all was not too well.
As the carriage pulled in, people pushed and shoved to glance inside, and some attempted to jump on, before being thrown to the ground by escorts.

It wasn't long before they reached the Imperial Square now.

[Frost]

The Imperial square was paved with beautiful sandstone-coloured bricks that surrounded deep-green coloured hedges cut to perfection, tall lampposts aligned the path all the way to the Palace's Gates.
Standing in the middle of this path was a magnificent fountain, it was incredibly tall, but it wasn't running at the moment.
The fountain was carved into a beautiful woman, who had her hands pressed against her chest and her head and eyes looked off into the distance. It gave this gloriously large space a mystical feel to it.

Straight ahead were the Palace Gates, they were about 20 feet high, and it led to the Palace Grounds just in front of the enormous tower that was this Great City's figurehead for centuries.
The Gates opened, creaking loudly for a moment as they opened, granting the carriages and their escorts passage to the Palace itself.

[Farrelei]

Fern hurriedly mumbled a "good morning" to Violet before heading down out the door to the hall in some of her best clothing.

She and the head of the Palace Servants stood waiting at the base of the stairs to the Palace as the carriage pulled up at the entrance.
"Representatives of Ranra, a most humble welcome to the great and grand Gardaine Palace." Spoke the servant boy,
"And, on behalf of her most gracious and loving Empress, and our father the King of Gardaine, I extend my hand to you, to serve and to protect. Welcome to our home. Your rooms are waiting inside." Smiled Fern.
"Allow our servants to carry your luggage. Please follow me."

Safroth had war on his mind. It tugged at him venomously, but he knew his place was here.
After being a man of blood his whole life, it was hard to give that up for handshakes and too many nice meals where the food was the best, but it was always the same every night with a different guest.
He was dressed though, nicely. Siberius would meet with the Representatives at dinnertime. In the meantime, he was their man.
But he had war on his mind. Secretly, silently, guiltfuly, he wished the bloodshed would reach the palace, just once.
It scared him, because he'd never felt that way before.

---

The old man had said he'd felt something horrible in the air.
He said it'd been haunting him for days, but that today he feared a storm was on the horizon.
So he locked himself in his room for prayer, and advised his colleagues to do so as well.
And then he pushed his old body through the open window, bruised his arm and thigh and made his way secretly onto the streets; all the while he begged forgiveness in his soul as he walked down the road to Hell.

He waited on the corner of the road, as people passed through their daily routine, and one or two people came around screaming something about ogres and war.
It seemed to pass over his head.
Time was slow; it was an old bitch to an old traitor.
And for a moment he thought that maybe he'd been late, he'd missed his chance, and that maybe they'd kill him for revenge in the morning.
And he thought that maybe that was a good thing.
But the sound of hooves clicking and clocking, and the wooden wheels slicing across the dodgy street alerted him to his reality.
The carriage pulled up, just as promised. The old man swallowed sadly.
His old, wrinkly hand extended shakily, to grab the handle of the carriage, whose entrance was veiled with a velvet curtain.
But surprisingly, gently, a hand slipped into his, and he darted his head upward as the curtain parted, and she smiled at him as a daughter smiles to her ageing father.
She helped him in, and the horses began to move again, and the carriage lurched, as his head didn't stop spinning.
But the gentle grip on his hand tightened warmly, and he looked back at her, with the beautiful eyes.
And her smile seemed more angelic to him than it should have really seemed, and she spoke to him with a voice that cushioned his deeply anxious heart,
"Everything will be alright, in the end... It'll all be over soon."
He couldn't find a way to smile, as Shelrair kept smiling warmly, and gently.
"It's the big day, now. I'm here for you... So it'll all be okay."

[Frost]

Herald smiled to Jezebel and took her hand.
Jezebel frowned slightly, as one-dimensional as Herald would seem, his hands were very soft and warm, and the feeling Jezebel experienced was unusually comforting.
"You're my daughter, remember?" Herald whispered to her as the impostors all came out from their carriages and began following the Head Maidservant.

The Gates creaked open again, and just as Herald and Jezebel were about to enter the Palace's great doors, Herald took a silent sigh of relief as other, different carriages began entering the Palace Grounds.
Herald smiled and continued to enter the Palace.

[Farrelei]

Their carriage pulled up, and they recieved a similar greeting to the others.
McKenzie was the last to depart from the carriage before it left off.
Shelrair linked his arm with hers, and helped him up the stairs, Vivian beside them. Shelrair was Vivian's wife ((in the disguise. Frost tell me if this is problematic)). McKenzie didn't know where he fit in to their little charade, but everyone in the Palace knew who he was, so he wore no diguise.

This caught Fern's eye as she finished with tending to the first round of guests and entered the main room again. Leaning over to Cassidy, she whispered, "Isn't that the Father?"
Cassidy squinted, "...Mm?"
Fern cocked her head a little, "Why's he here now?"
One of the eavesdropping maids bustled forward, "Well, the father's from Ranra originally, right? ((He's actually not, this girl's just a dumbass, but yeah..)) I heard that woman is his niece, or something along those lines.."
"Oh.. How nice," replied Fern, not thoroughly convinced, but not really caring either. She got back to work.

((Frost I have to talk to you about the rest at school))

[Frost]

((Sure, yeah everything is fine))

[Frost]

Herald, Jezebel and the other disguised Provocateurs were led off to their rooms, Jezebel, Herald and the woman were all in one room, one exceptionally large and wondrous room.
"Can I offer you anything else?" A servant boy asked, standing in the doorway.
"No. Thank you," Herald replied.
The servant boy smiled and bowed, before closing the door silently and leaving.

All 3 people in the room took a huge sigh of relief. The Woman slumped down onto her bed.
After a long, silent pause, the woman finally spoke.
"What's next in the plan?" She asked.
Herald sat down at a small table.
"Vivian is going to disable the communications main power core, so that no signals can be recieved or transmitted," Herald told her.

"I knew THAT," She replied, "What about US?"
Herald frowned.
"Excuse me?"

The Woman stood up.
"We all know of the 'oh-so-special descendants plans, and how they will use their oh-so-special powers to conquer this despicable city, have they even considered how they will do this politically? Through lies and slander? Hah, how pathetic, and then what? Sit around, doing paperwork, shaking hands and riding in carriages? Oh my, how blissful."

"Ursula! Enough!" Herald yelled.
"We're just the pawns...they've betrayed their own kind before...they'll do it again..." Ursula smiled.
"Ursula!"
"Slit our throats...in our sleep."
Herald stood up from his seat angrily, knocking his chair to the ground as he did so, fists clenched.
"Ursula! By casting doubt towards Vivian, you are casting doubt towards me! We have worked with these people for years! We were together in good times and in bad! You were there yourself! Ever since you were a child!"

"But that doesn't mean they won't-!"

"YOU'RE OWN MOTHER MARRIED A DESCENDANT!" Herald shouted, at the top of his voice.

Ursula got up from her bed, and walked over to Herald slowly.
She kept walking until their noses practically touched, and said 3 words that sent chills up Herald's spine, 3 words that not a single Provocateur had dared to mention to Herald or anyone for that matter, so unnerving that they were considered as forbidden to be spoken.

"...Remember the Brotherhood?" Ursula whispered.

A haunting silence filled the room.
Filled with anguish and regret. On both, Herald's and Ursula's minds.
Jezebel, who had been standing awkwardly in the corner of the room this whole time, wanted to know more about this association.

Ursula and Herald were still silently staring at each other.
Tears began forming in Herald's eyes.
Ursula turned her back to him.
"Such a powerful little crew...weren't they?...So infamous for their loyalty...or naivity. It depends on how you look at it. Before. Or After the little incident with two young brothers"

Ursula strode over to the door and opened it.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts. tears. memories. Whatever you want to call them. They're all synonymous to the word 'regrets' at this given time."
She slammed the door behind her.

"...Herald..." Jezebel spoke after an even longer silence.
She took a step closer to him.
"We won't...hurt you..." Jezebel told him softly, taking another step.
Herald's fists were clenched.
She smiled, and hesitantly, gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

Herald raised his arm and placed his hand on top of hers.
Suddenly, Jezebel's hand shook lightly.
Herald, through tearful eyes, frowned a little, but still hadn't turned around.
It started shaking even more verociously.

Herald turned around, and gasped as he saw the girl.
She was shaking violently all over.
Her eyes were completely dialated and a deep black-coloured.
Her face was pale, and her small wings concealed in her back ripped through her dress and spread themselves out, growing incredibly larger than before, almost touching both sides of the room.
They fluttered delicately, raising her off the floor so that she was just levitating.
Blood trickled down her lips, eyes and nose, much darker than any humans.

Herald staggered to the ground in fear, backing himself away slowly.

"Herald Rosen Greene," Jezebel spoke, much more mature and much more powerful than before.
Her hair grew much longer, and it blew around the room, as if wind had picked up.

"Born: Michfilden. 8:37PM. Father: Rosen Greene. Mother: Tennese Suut. Brotherhood members. Assisted in the summoning of the demon Desday. Failure occured. Asmon, brother of Vivian Waurd, had a half-life henceforth. Cursed for not providing correct ingredients. Vivian Waurd convinced his comrades that they failed to collect the appropriate materials inentionally.
War erupted. Rosen Greene and Tennese Suut were killed. You became an orphan. You escaped from the orphanage. Met Ursula. Formed the Provocateurs. Loyal to us to this day..."

Herald staggered up and stared through starstruck eyes.
"How did you...what ha-"

"If coming in contact with an Appropriate Host, I have the ability to see what they have seen. Felt what they've experienced. And re-tell any given story of my choosing. I grew curious of what the Brotherhood was. I searched through your compiled memories and collected those that I need. Do you have any other questions?"

Herald gasped and stuttered, not knowing what to do. Speechless.
"Wh-why now? Why have you ch-changed your appearancd?" Herald asked with absolute awe and wonder.

"My human form cannot contain my powers. When I choose to use them. I must change myself to a more stable form in order to fully use these abilities. I am not some little girl. I am one of the most respected demons of all time. Every demon has come to me for information. For memories. For knowledge. All but one."

Herald shook his head, lips trembling.
"Do you have any other questions that you wish for me to answer?" Jezebel asked with a majestic tone. Her voice was mature, smart, powerful, yet soft.

Herald shook his head again, too dumbfounded to think of anything he wanted to ask.

"By your will. Thank you."
Jezebel's eyes reverted to their usual, unique way.
Her wings shrunk and disappeared into her back.
Her hair grew shorter, back to it's normal length.
And as her feet pressed against the floor once more, she staggered weakly, before collapsing onto the ground.

Blood dripped onto the ground. Herald sat as frozen as ice. Jezebel lay ominously still.

[Frost]

((Silver, if you have any problems with anything I just posted, feel free to tell me. Same goes to anybody else))

[Farrelei]

Vivian and Shelrair were greeted with an honourable gesture by Fern, who also welcomed McKenzie, telling him how nice it was to see him again.
Shelrair's grip on the hand of her childhood mentor was increasingly warm, and comforting. She didn't want it to be hard on him. They were all nervous, but she was most worried for him, as she hated seeing the man whom she considered quite literally to be her father abused and struggling.

They were led to their rooms. Shelrair and Vivian got a room to themselves in a more honoured suite than most of the other Descendants, as per the status of their false identities.
The door was opened and Shelrair stepped in first, letting go of McKenzie's arm and gasping at the size and beauty of the room. Vivian followed at a more mature pace, chuckling aloud a little, "Very hospitable."
The room alone made Shelrair wish she were actually a representative from some foreign country - and then it occurred to her how wonderful the throne room must be, and her heart leapt for a moment.
Fern spoke up, "Is there any other way I can be of assistance for now?"
Vivian turned and smiled, "Please just make sure our bags are brought up on time, thank you. The Father wants to accompany my wife on a bit of a personal tour through the Grounds, if that's alright?"
Fern bowed once more, "Of course."

Shelrair pulled open the heavy, blood-red curtains to reveal a large balcony that lead from their bedroom to their bathroom, accompanied by a quaint outside table, topped with a selection of national flora. It was darker on this side, because the Sun was rising on the other side of the Palace.
"The sunset will be lovely," Vivian brushed past her and stepped out onto the balcony, leaning over it's railing and peering out at the city in the distance, and then back to the smoke cloud that lingered further away.
She couldn't tell whether he was referring to the view from their balcony, or the view that would be from the throne. This sent a slight shiver down her spine, before she shook it off a little and joined him,
"Damnit, Vivi.. Can't I have a little time to unwind?"
Vivian didn't look too amused, "..Maybe later. The first step is extremely important, and relies on your initiative."
As he said this, he eyed McKenzie, still standing in the doorway of their room, like a scared, feeble kitten.
Except really old.
Shelrair sighed, "I know.. I was just wonderin'."
Vivian stretched a little, and went back inside to explore the niches of his oh-so-temporary room. Shelrair approached McKenzie, and attempted to slip back into character, "You were going to take me on that tour, yes, Uncle?"
McKenzie frowned grimly, as if a last plea and dictation of his grief, "Oh, yes, if you're ready, Mishelle."

---

Lilly didn't pray.
She always found it slightly frustrating that all these men talked to the very same god, when she herself had her Inspiration to talk to.
Besides, God never talked back to her. She tried to reach out to him at first, when she first moved in to the Chapel months ago, but she quickly grew tired of trying. Sometimes she thought that maybe, if she'd been born with a working body, like everyone else, He would talk to her.
But in the end she decided that she probably wasn't made by God, because her body didn't all work quite properly, and maybe she was made by someone else, like her Inspiration, or something. She just didn't feel like everyone else, and she didn't know if they knew, but she didn't care if she wasn't human. No-one ever asked, so she didn't bother to talk about it, not even to her nightly friend.
Treed explained to her that by praying to God with enough faith, he would twist Fate for her. But she didn't feel like she belonged a part of Fate, either.
Only her Inspiration mattered to her, really. Everything else was too fragile to delve into.
And so, as the priests prayed all morning for salvation and protection and for revelation over the Eies, Lilly just sat in her chair, hoping to fall asleep so she could see him again that night.

---

As they began down the second flight of stairs, McKenzie and Shelrair were met by a guard and a servant boy, asking if they could be of assistance.
The guard was Trale. They servant boy was just a servant boy. McKenzie had begun to dismiss him when Shelrair pointed out that it might be helpful to recieve help with the tour from a palace staff member himself.
The four of them followed some flights of stairs, and McKenzie strained to come up with helpful imformation about the Place, which was elaborated quite vexingly upon by the servant boy, all the while still trying to lead them to the Communications Room.
McKenzie himself had never been in there, but they all knew that the Communications were determined and ran on a complicated 'Energy' structure - the utilisation of what they knew as myst by machines designed nearly a decade ago by Immestrian weapons researchers.
McKenzie had, however, studied very thoroughly and agonisingly the maps handed to him by Vivian, and recognised exactly where he was going.

It took much longer than it should have had. Trale was particularly - yet silently - frustrated with the timing. Their action was extremely necessary and urgent.
When they finally came upon the military checkpoint in the Palace, Trale let them through and the guards didn't think it too suspicious, as they were highly-honoured guests.
After that, the Communications room wasn't too hard to find.

Another guard unlocked the door, and the four of them entered - the time-consuming and horribly annoying servant boy, Shelrair, McKenzie and lastly Trale.
The door was closed, and down a hall they went until the reached the room.
Inside were five guards. Two - loafing around. Two - desk work. One - a female - looking pissed at the world and probably at that time of month again.
Trale sent the loafers out tiredly, telling them they were taking up unnecessary space.
The woman complained about representatives and their overwhelming priviliges, and then sat down in a chair, observing the people in the room as if they were all wild animals and eager to bite.

McKenzie began to talk to the grup about the Communications, and mainly, about the complexities of Energy and how such a unique and wonderous world element worked in all living things every day - the workings of their god.
As he talked, the servant boy, who had honestly never been this far down before, gawked at the machine in the room beyond them - it's spinning dials, wheels, and jerkings all made it seem as if it were alive. It was one of the most valuable and most brilliant inventions in all time.
Occasionally, valves on the machine burst open, and different colours of what looked like steam wheezed out of the machine - the myst.

Then, out of nowhere, there was a muted crunch, a grunt, and a muffled scream, before body number 1 was thrown to the floor. Trale, standing above him, then unholestered his gun and pointed it directly at the man's face.
Shelrair's heart leapt like a panther attack, and she unsheathed the dagger she'd been supplied with and sliced herself a nice, gaping hole in body number 2's throat.
Mckenzie stopped talking, and, horrified, could not control his urge to just weep as it all happened.
He turned away, and came into direct contact with the gun of body number 3 - the pissy lady one.
He raised his hands in protest, and luckily too, for they saved his life when the bullet pushed through his right and then lodged itself deeply into his left hand.
Trale fired at body number 1, raised the gun and fired at body number 3, who collapsed to the ground, and run over to the panicking Shelrair, pushed over body number 2 and lodged three bullets in their back - merely for theatrics if one were to question the knife wound.
Servant boy screamed and jumped at the rope that rang the emergency bell outside the Communications room.
Trale shot him, too, jogged up to his stunned, collapsed soon-to-be-corpse, and placed the gun firmly in his right hand before he died.
McKenzie was supposed to attempt to disturb the flow of myst. He denied his ability to do this long before the day came - for he knew he had little Talent, but now, wounded and crying on his knees, he was forced to be replaced by Trale.
My God, I have to do everything for these sissies..
Trale focused on the machine. It took only a second or two before he was hit with the shocking realisation of the amount of myst being burned in that thing. It almost hurt him when he felt it, when he connected with it inside.
It was sickening. They were only supposed to alter the flow, but Trale hit it with such a force ((lol get it? force?)) that it was pretty much irreversible by the end. The machine erupted with steam that turned to flame and then changed colour instantly, and the rear of the machine blew apart before it seemed to stop moving altogether.
The Descent could begin, now.

The crying, wounded Father, lead by a panicking, startled Shelrair, followed Trale out of the room and into the open military checkpoint.
Tens of soldiers began to flock. Trale told them all what had happened. History wrote itself:
They attacked at the East gate, early in the morning. As the Representatives arrived, disguised members of staff lead began to infiltrate the Palace.
One would-be servant boy managed to accompany a touring group of the representatives into the Communications room, before attempting to assasainate them then and there and destroy the military's main stronghold with it. If it wasn't for one soldier - maybe the Empire would have fallen that day.

Or so they teach in the schools, nowdays, anyway.


Mckenzie was taken to the medical bay, where they attempted to bandage and remove the bullet from his hand. The rest of the guards in the Palace were alerted that there may have been an infiltration. This was the sign for the rest of the Descendants to begin their acts.
The maidservants were called, and Fern arrived just in time to bump into Shelrair, the woman from earlier. She seemed stunned and shocked, and was breathing irrationally.
"It's okay, miss, I'll take you back to your room, please follow me. Could I get some guard escort!?"
Trale lead the group of Immestrial soldiers to find other intruders.
And only later would that same group of soldiers be the only ones to know who the real intruders were, before they were all slaughtered by the very hero that they believed saved their nation's allies.

---

There was a knock at the door. A time-concerned Vivian breathed a sigh of relief and set his glass upon the bedside table.
He opened the door, and there, with a smile of surprising thrill, stood Shelrair,
"Let's make this descent.."

[Frost]

Of course, to Vivian's knowledge, he thought that Shelrair was referring to the downfall of Gardaine.
Shelrair knew otherwise.
Vivian abruptly pushed past Shelrair(without excusing himself) and trudged down the hallway.
Shelrair muttered something quite horrible and insulting as he walked down the hallway, before closing the door behind her.

Vivian kept walking until he found a wandering Maidservant.
It was Cassidy, doing something much more valuable than what she was about to be told to do.
"Excuse me, maid, but can you alert the High Officers that The International Guards are moving themselves around the various floors of the Palace, they want to ensure that all the assailants are gone, and will assist them in the clearly-needed protection of us. Thank you."

Vivian was correct, just as he had told the disguised Internation Guards to do the night before, they began outstretching themselves around the Palace, some went below the main floors, others above, until on almost every floor stood these assassins.

[Silverlining]

Kitharis ran through the streets quickly, carrying a file full of information he had gathered for Kyou. He winced, and swore quietly, as he heard his ribs click against the splint on his side. As he turned the corner, heading towards the old abandoned house, he saw a body on the street.

"Shit..."
As he came closer, features began to stand out.
The hair, the body shape...

"No... Shit, this can't be happening..."

He bent down, and turned him over.

"Sire..."

[Farrelei]

Kyou looked up and tried to get his eyes to focus on the face in front of him.
It was Kitharis. He thought.
You're dead? Or something.. Why are you here now?
He raised his arms and pulled himself to his knees using Kitharis.
"I have to get to.. The.. Serenfas'.. Building now, please..." His voice struggled out.

((I was gonna post more but I have to go, I'll post it after the next post [It was about Eleanore by the way so it won't affect whatever happens next]))

[Frost]

Vivian rushed back to his room, passing several disguised Descendants as he did so.
He grabbed the golden(but slightly smudged) doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open quietly.
"Shelrair," Vivian started.
Shelrair was standing on the balcony of their room, taking off her Representative clothes and into her International Guard uniform.
It looked similar to that of a dining suit. It was grey-coloured, and outlined with a deep red.
A black, leather belt was strapped on tightly around her waist, an intricately designed cutlass and longsword was attached.
There was no tie, instead it was buttoned up quite tightly all the way up to her chin, and a small hat containing all of Shelrair's luscious hair inside.

She straightened her clothing and turned around, facing Vivian, and saluted cutely towards him.
"Ready for orders, my Lord."

"To the Throne Room," Vivian ordered.
Shelrair walked over to her bed and picked up her handgun, 16 bullets were inside
The bullets were from the International Guard also, they were incredibly thick, and had the potential to fire straight through a wall if fired properly.

Vivian opened the door wider for Shelrair to pass, and then exited himself.


Trale looked down several corridors, this wasn't the first time he had been inside, but he wasn't quite sure where the King's office was.
He knew where the High Officer's was, though, but that wouldn't be useful.

[Farrelei]

"What the hell do you mean!?" Vendarn was furious, "How the hell did anyone manage to get inside the Palace unnoticed!?"
The messenger shook his head in annoyance, "They must have already been working inside the Palace! Maybe the were hired, maybe they were always planning for something like this all along!"
Safroth entered the room, followed by some guards assigned to protecting officials. There were now about 7 people in the moderately-sized office, and all of them were Imperials.
The door was left open.
"I don't how they got in," Safroth began, directing his orders at whomever would listen, "But we need to know who we're being attacked by! How's the situation at the East Gate?"
The messenger saluted the Vizier before replying, "Sir, it doesn't look too good.."
"Do we know what their aim is? Why does someone attack without any message, or any question? How are we supposed to resolve a conflict without even knowing what the conflict is about!? It makes no sense.."
One of the guards, though he knew it was rude, raised his voice awkwardly, "Unless the attack is directed at Ranra, and they know of this conflict already. What if there's something we haven't been told? Maybe... Maybe this is.. Well.."
Vendarn lurched in his seat, "We're being attacked by Ranra?"
Safroth was silent.
The guard hesitantly spoke again, this time to the High Officer, "Well, yes.. With the Empress gone, if they were somehow able to take the country, they'd have enormous influence and power..."
Vendarn cursed aloud, "And so the Representatives we're housing here are all wolves in sheep's clothing.."
Safroth shook his head, "It's all just theory.. We can't tell for sure if this is right!"
"It's the only lead we have," argued Vendarn, "In any case, we have to make sure we keep an eye on them! I want teams to go and round up every Official and bring them to the Dining Hall. Tell them it's important!"
Safroth sighed, "This is horrible.."
"And make sure any international guard goes there too. In fifteen minutes I want these halls surveyed, and if I see anyone with a weapon that isn't part of the Imperial Force, so help me, I'll fucking kill them. Make it happen!"
"The messenger broke out in a sweat, "Y-Yes, sir.."

---

Fern noticed Violet out of the corner of her eye. She was running.
"Vio! Violet!? You haven't been assigned anything yet!!"
The message just came in. The maidservants were going to relay the orders to the representatives, along with the Imperial Guard. Siberius had no doubt already been alerted to the situation.
Violet wanted to be with him if anything happened. He protected her in the forest, and she owed something back to him. Secretly, she wanted something to happen, if it brought them together. She didn't care how selfish that thought was.

Safroth returned to his room, and it was promptly guarded on the outside. He reached into his drawers and retrieved the first gun he ever recieved back when he was still a child, one of the kidnapped children trained into elites for the Imperial future, or whatever it was described as nowdays.
He loved that gun, as much as he hated his past. He knew a lot of the children, including Eleanore, still kept that gun (if they were lucky enough to be issued one). He didn't really want to use it, but it had a symbolic feel to it. He strapped on his old belt from his military days, and slid the gun into the holster.
He smiled. It wasn't like anything major would happen, he thought, but it felt good to be back in the action again.

---

"You lucky swine."
No matter how many times they played, Bowen always seemed to beat her at cards.
"I thought you said you were good at this!"
Eleanore sneered, "I've been of incredibly ill luck ever since I met you. Well, now that I think about it, that's when it all started, wasn't it?"
Bowen's laughter died down, and he stared a little at his mostly-full teacup beside him (he hated the stuff).
Eleanore pondered what she had just said for a moment, before deciding she didn't want to get depressed on her holiday again, and stood to stretch her back a little.
Bowen could see her body through the reflection in the clear glass of the cup.
His heart beat a little faster. He still didn't know where it'd gone wrong. Probably something about being Empress, and all that, but he felt like she still liked him, as she used to like him.
They hadn't gone back to that place since she became Empress. They probably couldn't, anyway, due to security to some crap. But even when they were alone like this, he missed being able to say 'I love you'..
She really was beautiful.
Maybe, if things had been a little different...

---

Eleanore swung a fist across his face, and smiled in satisfaction at the thwack that followed when his face collided with the ground.
Sebastion ((happy now, assface? ;D)) laughed, "You're gonna kill him if you're not careful, y'know."
She smiled, "Maybe then he'll learn to close his little mouth, won't he?"
Hiro rubbed his aching head and pulled himself together, "..Yeah, well, at least I didn't go hitting you wh-"
The door opened, and the familiar face of their friend Kale smiled, and he waltzed over to them melodramatically.
Eleanore smiled teasingly, "Someone's in a good mood. What happened? Did you get lucky with the Prince?"
As she said this, she turned her head and winked back at Hiro, who blushed and then tried to hide it by attacking Eleanore in retaliation.
The newcomer laughed and wrapped his arms wround Hiro's chest before pulling him away from Eleanore, "Naww, not even for the Prince would I give up my Hiro~"
Eleanore pretended to gag at their romance, and Sebastion placed his hand on hers. She smiled gingerly toward him.
Safroth, who was also with the little group, pouted, "Oh don't you all get lovey-dovey around here and leave me out of it."
They all laughed, and Kale blew a kiss toward Safroth, to the annoyance of Hiro, who forced a kiss back.
They were, for the most part, happy. Eleanore was almost 16 now. Their tightly-knit friendship group spent a lot of days together, and most of them were closely tied in their combat training, also.
Safroth and Hiro were the only two who didn't quite live up to the others when it came to their ability in training and field missions.
Well, Eleanore didn't think she lived up to it, either. But she didn't realise that it was her brain, not necessarily her brawn, that she was so highly favoured for.
Kale was regarded as one of the most skilled swordsmen in the Empire for his age, and he personally trained with Prince Sei twice a week when his own personal trainer paid him a visit.

It was all happy days. But, inside, they still knew they were slaves of the Empire. And the day would come, soon, where it would all fall apart.

[Frost]

Vivian and Shelrair rushed up more and more flights of stairs, almost running to the upcoming throne room.
"Remember..." Vivian told Shelrair as they rushed along another corridor, "Everyone. Serenfas, Provocateurs, and our people will begin the attack as soon as that gun of yours fires. It has the loudest and most powerful bullets in this Country, understand?"

Shelrair nodded, "Of course, I knew that from the beginning..."
"I'm just reminding you," Vivian replied.

They turned another corner, and then were shocked to find themselves colliding with a passing servant boy and maidservant.
After apologizing promptly to each other and straightening themselves up, the servant boy spoke.
"Excuse me, lady and lord, but, there is a gathering of everyone in the Palace down on floor 14, we must ask you to come with us."

"Access Denied," Vivian told him evilly.
((LOLOLOL jokes))
Vivian frowned and exchanged glances with Shelrair. This would definitely cause problems for their cause.
Hesitantly, but swiftly, Vivian raised his arm and shot a blast of aura at the servant boy, knocking him back and slamming him to the ground.
The child screamed as the force burned his body.

The Maidservant screamed and ran back the way she came.
Shelrair panicked and raised her handgun, pointing towards the fleeing girl.
"No!" Vivian yelled, pushing her arm away.
Vivian raised his arm and fired more aura at the girl.
It struck her back, and she fell to the ground.

Shelrair winced as Vivian finished off the young boy, and then the girl.

"We need to hurry, let's go!" Vivian told her, before running, checking each direction as he did so.
Shelrair nodded and followed close behind him.


At last Trale had found the right room.
He took a deep breath, and paused, before opening the door to the King's Office.


There was Siberius. Sitting at his desk, papers were in his hands, he was frowning, and was still frowning as Trale entered his room.
"...Yes?" Siberius asked as Trale took a step closer.

This...is him? The last Ancient? Trale thought to himself surprisingly.

"Uhm..." Trale began after a short pause.
Siberius frowned again and put down the papers he was holding.
"Is it a message about the attack on the East Gate?" Siberius asked.
"...Yes...Yes it is, uh, the situation has worsened, sir, they are pushing further and further into the city..." Trale told him, not sure if it was true or not.

"And...what shall we do?" Replied a concerned Siberius.
Trale just stood there...Not quite sure how to respond.