The Price of Peace (Completed)

[Farrelei]

As his throat burst, and his blood shot into the sky, she grit her teeth and prepared for the worst.
She hastily ducked, using the wall as a shield. There were shouts from the inside, and the guards inside returned fire out the now-smashed window. It passed above her head and into the distance.
Her heartbeat pressured her on. She looked up to find a pistol pointed at her forehead.
Then there was a shot, and blood covered her body.

She wiped the blood from her face, and the man who was about to kill her toppled out the window and onto she. She pushed his corpse away as his warm, sticky blood continued to leak all over her.
There was more fire from the distance. She saw him standing there, firing at the window above her.
He had saved her life.
"Eleanore!" He called, now heading straight for her.
"I did it!" She cried in response, "The mission's over!"
He threw his body against the wall beside her, and moved the reddened hair from her eyes, "Are you okay?"
"Yes.."
"You killed him?"
"Yes..."
She swallowed. She felt as though she were about to cry.
He pulled her in, and squeezed her tight.
"You know what this means, right? You'll be promoted for sure."
"I don't care," she pulled away, "You fucking saved my life. Again."
And with that, the two soldiers turned the corner, and fought their way back to base.

He fell into her body, the blood spurting out of his throat. He could feel the blood clogging up already, he couldn't breath at all.
He knew he was dead, now.
She wrapped her arms around him as he fell.
"Thank you for descending, little soldier. Now we can move on to a better future. I hope you have lovely memories to keep you company on the other side."
He pushed away from her violently. In his desperation, he reached for the gun there, on the floor. Was it his?
He didn't know. His blood was everywhere.
Everywhere.
And then, he twisted in agony. Shelrair knew he hadn't the strength to pull the trigger.

He died.

She looked down. Her clothes were soaking in blood. She knelt down to his side. The gun in his hand was hers. She suddenly knew fate was on her side.
So, he killed Vivian, it seems. I was too late, but I stopped him before it got too ugly.. Yes.
There were footsteps. Her heart leapt.
Oh god, they're back already?
Shelrair pulled herself behind the desk and tried to stifle her breathing.
But the voice she herd was comforting.
"Vivian!?"
"He's dead..."
"And Shelrair?"
She crawled out of her hiding space, and stared up at her husband's grief-stricken face.
He rushed over to her, and cradled her in his arms.
"What happened?"


((Is that okay? : >))

[Frost]

Down came the tears again.
"Oh, Trale...I...I didn't arrive on time I...the officer, he...he killed Vivian...but, I avenged him, he paid for it..." Shelrair stuttered into Trale's chest.
Trale took a deep breath, and then realised what this meant, releasing Shelrair.
"That means..." Trale started.
Shelrair smiled, "Yes, Trale, you are our leader now, you inherit the throne."

[Farrelei]

There was a crowd gathering outside Palace Square. Hundreds of soldiers were lined up at the entrance, where, almost an hour ago, the guards at the gate, and the gates itself, had been attacked.
There was still no agreement upon who had done it - the same people that were now attacking the East Gate, or another group of terrorists.
And this was, for the most part, all that the Imperial Army here in Gardaine was concerned about. An attack on the Palace was an extremely serious issue.
If they had known that, on the upper levels of the Palace, hundreds of their coworkers were dying, and that Lord Safroth Narshe himself had just been killed, well, there'd probably be tanks and even airships out and about, and they definately wouldn't be wasting their time protecting a reasonably small gate.

McKenzie shook feverishly as he sat in the guest room, even though he sat close to the comforting fireplace there. Descendants gave and relayed messages about him. He tried to listen to everything that was going on, but it was all too much for his old and feebling head to process.
Then he heard it, "The leader's been killed..!"
There was a huge ruckus in the room now.
The one who gave the message was yelling, but his words were drowned out.
McKenzie stood, and the arguing stopped.
"..What then? What else?"
"We believe he was murdered by the acting Viceroy.. Vizier Safroth. We found the leader on the throne."
The ruckus sparked up again now, cheers and insults were being tossed around like children at play.
McKenzie pushed through the throng of people, and managed to catch up with the giver of the message.
"Excuse me... Was anyone else there killed?"
The ruckus silenced itself a little, as some struggled to hear the finer details,
"The murderer was dispatched... By Mrs. Hemari. That is all. Trale is up there now. It seems he's ascended to Vivian's position, so to speak."
And with that, the messenger slipped back through the throng of loud, angry people, and the Father was left relieved that his friend was safe.
So it couldn't be stopped...

Down in the guests' kitchen, Purea was singing a song about spices and things, when the door swung open, and a girl drenched in blood stumbled in.
She screamed. The kitchen staff were suddenly in a panic. Purea rushed over to the girl and moved the hair from her eyes.
At first, she thought it was Fern. The resemblance was startling.
"Oh dear, girl! What in the world happened?"
The girl put a finger to her lips. Her eyes were desperate. Two more girls dashed through the door, quietly closed it.
"We made it, Violet..."
Purea recognised Cassidy.
"What's happened. Please tell me, now."
"They.. Killed... Everyone."
Purea's face darkened, "M-My baby Fern?"
Cassidy shook her head, "I don't know.."
Violet hugged Purea, "Oh my god, Fern..! And Siberius..! What if they...?"
The head waiter arrived just in time to see this odd spectacle.
Purea stood, "EVERYONE. There's been a coup, as we can all see here."
The other girl raised her voice, "I don't think they'll attack us down here.. It'd be impossible to fight the entire Empire if the military got involved.. It's a secret thing, all behind-the-scenes..."
The kitchen was silent. The kitchenhands stared at each other in horror.
"Okay, everyone..." Purea announced, "What we've seen here today, we were never meant to see. This spectacle is a defiance of Fate, you hear? And fate's one hell of a bitch when it doesn't get its way. So we never saw this incident. Ever, you hear?"
"But-"
"Please! If we do anything about this now, we'll be killed."
"But there's a chance-"
"Yes, there's a chance. There's always a chance. But gambling's a sin. And I'm not gonna be held responsible when you kids get yourselves killed. If you need to take some time out, go ahead. I can handle this kitchen on me own, anyways."
The three maidservants who were drenched in blood were led off quickly by the head waiter. They were miracles in their own right.

Severon had a heavy heart as the transports drove them into Palace Square. There were huge crowds there, wondering what had happened.
Safroth wasn't going to appreciate the work ahead of him. The East Gate and the blocks surrounding it had been totally ruined by the fighting. The final few thurguals in the army had escaped. Most had been wiped out. And one of the best men Severon had ever held the honour of meeting, now no longer lived.
His body was covered in one of the Immestrial Banners, his sword in his hand, as the transport reached its destination.

The sun began to recede, it's afternoon colour an orangey warm, spilling through the trees beautifully. It was a huge contrast to what they were all feeling then.

[Frost]

Savannah ran out of the Palace, in her stolen guard's uniform she took after knocking a woman out with one of the mops, gasped as she saw troops everywhere at the gates.
Are these more of the murderers!? Or are they Gardaine soldiers!? Maybe they're both...Maybe the military uprose...
She thought up all of these theories as she turned the corner, hiding from them.
Maybe there's a way out through the back... She thought, sneaking around the grounds.

She shrieked and almost fell to the ground in shock.
The once-beautiful tiger, powerful and majestic, lay on the ground, his right claw still clinging to the wall. His claws were all either snapped, broken or covered in blood. His beautiful blue eyes were closed shut, laying in a pool of blood mixed with loose fur that hangs off him, thanks to the two Spirit beasts that destroyed him.

She ran toward him, tripping into the ground, collapsing onto him, his thick fur still warm.
"Link...Link, please...Wake up," Savannah gasped, shaking his large body.
But, his eyes remained shut and his body lifeless.
"Link! Montecore! Please!" Savannah shook him harder, tears dripping onto his sliced fur.
She tapped his face, shook him harder, yelled at her last chain to her past.
"Montecore, please, I need you, and...I love you, please, please, no!" Savannah mourned as she buried her face into him, embracing him tightly, moaning hauntingly.

She pulled his right paw off of the wall, claw marks ran all the way up the Palace, and placed his arm comfortably beside him.
She wiped her tears and hummed a soothing lullaby to him, petting him as she did so.
Little One, Little One,
Close your eyes,
Feel the skies,
I am near,
I am hear,
Please don't cry,
Please don't mourn,
Beside you I'll sit, Beside you I'll wait,
Until I see the Dawn
For I am here, For I am near...
Oh, Little One, Little One...

She weeped as she hummed, saying goodbye to her only true friend.
Savannah's hands passed through his fur, warm and thick, up behind his ears, Montecore's favourite place to be pet.

His ear twitched.

---

"I'm going to check on her," John told Mini, standing up and growing impatient of any news at all from the attacks that were happening above him.
He opened the door just, creaking ever-so-slightly as he did.
The demon that was on the small loungechair on the left side of the room was no longer there.
He opened the door wider, just a little, and still couldn't see her.

She couldn't of escaped, there's no windows or doors or anything..."
He opened the door completely, and, sitting at Vivian's desk, was the immovable woman, her frilly hat covering two thirds of her face, revealing just a small smile on her face.
Nothing of her moved, and it seemed to John that even he was frozen.
He bowed and closed his eyes, an act of respect and acknowledgement, but he also didn't want to look upon the intimidating figure any longer.

"I do apologise, milady," John told her, "Do you need anything? A refreshment? Food?"
She hadn't replied.
"Milady?" John asked again.
Still nothing.
He let go of the door handle and took a few steps forward, wondering what was wrong.
"Is something wrong? Why aren't you replying? Are you feeling okay?" He continued to ask, but his attempts of any sign of the demon's attention had failed.
He muttered something offensive about Demon's lack of respect, before turning around and closing the door. Almost.
He looked through the creak in the door once more.

And, to his surprise, the small smile, seen upon the woman's face...Was no longer there...

[Farrelei]

((-demon noise-))

McKenzie was the only one of those who went in today that left that day.
Anyone else would have been suspicious.
One of the carriages the Palace kept for honoured guests personally escorted him to a street nearby the chapel per his wishes.
And he entered the chapel the way he came, without being seen, except by the little girl in the wheelchair by the gravestones.
But she never questioned life - it was mystery enough as it were.

The day ended, night began. People slept, the Nightbird awoke. Lovers shared their love.
Those who had seen what had happened that day - they couldn't sleep.
Lest they be already entered into sleep eternal.
Not even the descendants could sleep, not all. But from excitement or horror?
Or guilt?

Trale checked on his treasured prey before returning to the body of Vivian that night. He was cold, now. They'd cleaned his body up for the most part. They still hadn't decided what to do with his body for now.
Trale wanted to wait until their position in the Empire was announced, then give him a proper funeral at the Chapel. It was tragic.

Shelrair made herself at home on the Empress' bed. She didn't feel half as excited as she should have. Perhaps if Trale weren't so preoccupied..
Oh well. They had a busy week ahead of them, anyway.

---

Fern shivered. It was cold. The footsteps of the Immestrian guards outside her room were far too uncomforting for what they were worth.
Two times she found herself standing at the door to her room, staring at the doorknob. Placing her hand upon it's colder surface. Then taking it away slowly, and climbing back into her bed.
She was too frightened. She was alone. Is mum dead? Is Violet dead? Is Siberius dead?
She tried to sleep but couldn't She told herself that these Immestrian guards would, when morning came, alert the rest of the army to their situation despite their Communication failure.
But still, she felt trapped. Even if this were the most secure part of the Palace now (which of course, it was not), she felt naked under her bedsheets. At any time, she could die.
At any time.

..At any time.
She finally fell asleep.

((In the morning she can wake to gunshots and the soldiers can die and she can hide from the provocs <3
And then she can try and escape but run into Shelly who can be like "Cute <<<<3! Come hide over here with these nice men we're a secret group and we're going to stop these baddies taking over the palace okay sweetie have a chocolate."
That's how they can meet ))

[Frost]

(("bahahah okay then," Said Montecore.))

The sun slowly began to rise, it was a freezing cold night, frost had gathered and formed on every window, covering every roof and road.
Asmoday was up all night and morning, eliminating anyone who was still alive in the now-empty Spire.
The brilliant light shone through the large windows of the Empress' bedchambers, illuminating Shelrair who found herself waking up next to Trale, who must of climbed into bed with her after she fell asleep.
"Trale, you should've woken me up when you got into bed," Shelrair told him.
He smiled, but Shelrair knew it wasn't a real one, her excellent judge of character had taught her otherwise.

She ignored the thought, however, and quickly jumped out of bed(literally), and got dressed into an elegant gown clearly belonging to the Empress.
"Ugh," Grunted Shelrair, "It's too big, oh well, nonetheless."
She skipped(literally) over to her husband who shall soon be called Emperor and kissed him.

"I have to go see our captive, stay in bed, and rest, my lord," Shelrair said to him before running off to find Siberius.

---

His deep blue eyes opened, his heart was aching and it made him yelp in pain by just sitting up, his vision blurred.
I'm alive. That's good to know.
He rubbed his eyes, they were sore, and his vision was returning, but everything was still a massive blur.

Something moved in front of him. He jumped in shock.
Whatever it was giggled, "It's just me, silly," It spoke.
For a moment Siberius thought it was Savannah sitting at the foot of his bed with a tray of hot tea and biscuits, but he was wrong. Instead he found a very beautiful black-haired woman wearing what seemed to be Eleanore's robes.

"Uhm...where am I? Who are you?" Siberius asked, not knowing which one he wanted to find out more importantly.
The woman lurched forward and put her fingers to his lips.
"Don't talk, stay rested," Her voice was incredibly elegant and dictated.
"Here, drink this."

Siberius hesitated, but realised now that he was parched, and after taking a miniscule sip of the tea, found himself drinking it very quickly.
"Now have some of these."
She handed him the small plate full of shortbread(or whatever they had back then), Siberius' favourite.
He immediately ate them quickly too, this time not hesitating at all.

"And finally, how about some of these?" Shelrair asked, unbuttoning the Empress' bedrobes and showing Siberius' her large cleaveage.
((lol just kidding, ignore that part))

"I'm Lucinda," Shelrair told him.

"I'm the leader of the Midknights, an organisation that only the Empress knew about. We're like invisible bodyguards, we stopped the attack on the Palace and made sure they all paid terribly for their serious crime."

Siberius kept eating, listening, and believing everything she said.
"You're in the Palace, resting at the moment, your body went through a lot. You won't be able to walk for a few weeks, and your eyesight will not return for at least a month. Also, standing up may result in some heart failure, so refraim from doing that too."

Siberius stopped, staring at the still-blurred woman.
"You mean, it will take months before I can leave this room!?" He asked angrily, immediately thinking of Savannah and Montecore and the others, too.

Shelrair nodded, "I...I'm sorry, but, in the mean time, I am here for you, I promise to sit by you for as long as you need me."
Siberius frowned.
How am I supposed to rescue Savannah now? I don't even know where Montecore is...Or Violet, and why hasn't there been any word from Safroth or Recko or Eleanore even?

"Where is Safroth? Can I speak to him? It's urgent..." Siberius asked.
Shelrair looked down, "Safroth...I'm sorry, he's dead."
It took this news a long time to sink in.
"Commander Recko? Where is he?" Siberius asked again.
"...Also dead."
"Severon? Please, Severon, Please tell me he's alive."

A slight smile curved into Shelrair's lips, though her hair was covering it, fortunately. Just this morning, an operative had reported the Commander's death, being assassinated in his sleep.

"I'm sorry..." Shelrair told him, her cold hands touching his.
Siberius clenched his hands.
"This...can't be happening...No! This can't be!" He shouted, throwing off the covers of his bed and attempting to stand up.
"No, Siberius you must not get up!" Shelrair yelled, trying to push him back down.
Siberius knocked her off him, and stood up, and for a split second, nothing was wrong, but after that, his leg automatically gave way and blood spewed from his bandaged wounds.

His leg's ligaments were being torn.

He collapsed onto the ground, wheezing and moaning in pain, tears dripped down his face.

"...What...about...Vendarn?"
No answer.
"Also killed."

Once again, Siberius felt terribly lonely, no-one he had known in his position was left, everyone he knew was once again taken from him.

"Just pee in the cup."

[Farrelei]

Eleanore found her sleep disturbed abruptly.
She was having such a nice dream, too.
"Elle?"
Bowen. Why. Just why. It's still dark outside.
She peered out the window for a while, pretending to be asleep.
Then, suddenly, there was a body beside her, and she was vigorously shook until she summoned up enough strength to slam her Vizier in the gut.
"What!?"
"H-Hey! I just came to say we were nearing Eau Marché... I just thought you'd like to see it, that's all... You can go back to sleep if it doesn-"
"Bowen, shut up and get out of my room."
"..Will you be coming?"
Eleanore pulled herself out of bed, and glared at him. Bowen left.

Even the maidservants are still asleep, damnit. I have to do my own hair for once.
As much as she complained, she preferred the privacy.
Her usually long and tedious beauty session she completed in roughly 10 minutes.
Content, he left for the main balcony.
Only guards, Bowen, and a very few number of other passengers were out at this time. Bowen smiled when he saw her.
"You look.. Different."
As he spoke, Eleanoe noticed two of the maidservants on the deck playing some kind of game. She felt cheated.
"Why are you up, Bowen?"
"I wanted to see the town."
"How much sleep did you get?"
"Almost three hours?"
Eleanore sighed. This guy never seemed to tire.
Peering over the edge, though, Eleanore saw speckles of light below her. It was as though she were looking down into the stars rather than up.
"How much longer?"
"Maybe an hour?"

Eleanore went back to bed.

[Frost]

Siberius was now in his bed once again, his leg re-stitched and his blood had been cleaned.
Shelrair walked through the Palace's hallways as if it were a playground, tomorrow, they will leave the Palace and reveal themselves to the people. Not formally. That will take place in a few weeks time when all the commotion has been calmed. Then the real shock would be displayed.

---

"Use the intercom! Quick! Call the military! Call everyone!" A soldier yelled at another soldier, who was madly haywiring a small electronic device that was previously a heap of metals and cords.
Suddenly, golden strings stabbed themselves into both of the troops' shoulder blades, before pulling them up and latching themselves to the wall behind them.
Asmoday walked up to them, silently, with his left hand stretched out at them. Five fingers, five strings.
3 for the man, 2 for the girl.
Not all pyre was manipulated this way, it was simply the way that they were taught, proving to be one of the most useful ways, but also the harshest on the conjurer's memories. Asmoday doesn't remember anything before he was 11 years old. He rejoiced at this, though, for his curse that which he suffers every day of his life was now eradicated from his mind.

"I applaude you for surviving for this long," Asmoday told them, wondering how they had the resources to create their own communicating device whilst remaining well hidden.
"Because of this, I will end your lives quickly."
He raised his right arm, 5 more strings of pyre came forth from his hand.
2 more strings wrapped themselves around the man's neck, 3 around the girl's. He didn't want to be sexist.
The man's hand somehow managed to get into his pocket and take out the gun he concealed there.
He unprecisely aimed the gun toward Asmoday, and fired.
The bullet pierced his upper arm, but, because of his condition, pain wasn't something rare, so Asmoday merely gritted his teeth.
He curled his fingertips until they met with his palms, causing the memory-filled strings to tighten sharply, slicing the two soldier's heads right off of their bodies, not before the gun fired once or twice more, this time toward the ground.

[Farrelei]

Fern's eyes shot open.
What's the time..?
She sat herself up, still under the sheetcovers. She wondered what was going on outside. Maybe they'd stopped the attack already.
Bang... Bang.
A shiver crept down her spine. Now she knew what had woken her up after such little sleep.
She could hear splashes of liquid outside the door, and thumps.
She was shivering.
Silently, quickly.. Please, Fern!
She forced her tired body out of the bed. She skipped, barefoot, to the door.
She placed her ear up to it's surface.
One, two steps. Toward her door, she heard.
Simply the thumping of her heart was loud enough to suffocate her sense of hearing.
She ran to the bed. She got down on her hands and knees and squeezed her foot into the small space beneath.
She pushed her leg further in, and inserted the second foot. Her skin scraped against the metal.
She managed to fit her skinny body into the space. Kept pushing, kept pushing. She struggled with her shoulders.
The doorknob rattled. She held her breath.

...It rattled some more.
It's locked!?
Her heart skipped a beat. She pulled one shoulder through, then another. The unberable pain was softened by her desperation. Her neck slid in with ease. Then she realised...
...Her head could not fit through.
The door rattled once more. Only this time, the knob fell onto the ground with an assortment of little pieces and bolts.
Pure agony.
She struggled, and she pulled one arm free from the bed quickly. She winced. Blood spilled down her arm. She quickly grasped what she felt was the sheets, and pulled them down. All of it, down, messily, over the gap in the bed.
And she was covered. She heard the footsteps as the entered the room. She remained completely still, and prayed, prayed to whoever was watching her, that they would protect her.
The person in the room roamed freely for a while. Then, finding nothing, it appeared they went for the door. But then they stopped.

The footsteps grew closer.
And then there was a rustling above her.
The sheets were being moved!
But the sheets.. Never came off her head.
Because no person worth bothering about would be able to even vaguely fit inside that gap.
The intruder left.

For the next 10 minutes, Fern struggled out of the space. Several times did she contemplate allowing herself to die. The thought of her friends, and Purea, kept her squirming. She was scratched and scathed.
And then she moved to the door, peered down the hallway. She resisted the urge to be sick at the sight of the gore that was her once-home. And then she set off down the hallway, flying down.

Then..
Thump!
She hit something! No,
Someone..
Then she slid and collapsed to a stop. She looked up instincitvely, quickly. She was ready to run, but she was ready to die.
The woman turned and stared at her in shock.
Fern stared into the womans' eyes.
"..P-Please!"
The woman smiled.

[Frost]

"Aww! And what's your name? You're so cute! Come with me, I won't hurt you, promise!" Shelrair exclaimed, immediately taking her by the hand forcefully and dragging her off behind her, giggling.

Trale rose out of bed, he hadn't wanted to do this, never had he wanted to, but it was expected to happen many years ago.
She's been alive long enough, pulling strings, manipulating and lying and disgracing our name, I must put her out of her misery, once and for all, and for the good of this Country.

Shelrair sat Fern down in a large chair in the Main Dining Room.
"So, who are you!?" Shelrair asked cutely, whoever this girl was, to Shelrair, she looked to be utmost valuable, possibly a maid or a slave, and she had always wanted one of those.

[Farrelei]

((LOL.))

Fern was horrified. She knew this woman was going to kill her. Probably.
"M-My name is.. Fern Rose. Please.. They're going to kill me.. They killed the others... I saw them..! You're going to kill me... I'm just a maidservant! It's my job not to question things! I-I.. Please..."
She trailed off, at a loss for words. Whatever she said didn't matter. And she knew that.
This woman - these people - had already made up their minds.
The woman in front of her already knew whether or not Fern was to die.
All she was doing was catching at loose strings in the air.


Thousands of people had gathered outside the small port town.
The Ashrose hadn't even landed yet.
The Liosian Army was mobilised, and the people were forced back. It was going to be a tough day.
Inside the town, the residents that chose to stay locked in their houses rather than leave the town for 20 hours were feeling quite happy about their choice, as the cheers and roars of the crowds outside made themselves widely known.

When the Maidservants were done doing her hair, Eleanore left for the balcony and rejoined Bowen. They were closer now.
Eleanore bagn to open her mouth, when the Captain stepped out onto the balcony and asked that everyone return to their seats for landing.
Eleanore sighed.

[[>Pulse<]]

"Fern! I'm not going to let anyone lay their hands upon you(except her)!" Shelrair yelled, "A maidservant? Are there any more of you?"
(Frost)
Shelrair knew now that the girl was important, and she'd need as many allies that she could get, befriending the survivors would provide a strong foundation for her Husband's empire.

Trale hears voices a few metres away, squeals and shouts, and he knew automatically that it was Shelrair in the room. He stopped walking and looked down towards the floor, breathing deeply, bracing himself for the chain of events that would follow after he murdered his wife.

[Farrelei]

((Hang on, isn't it illogical for Trale to want to kill Shelrair now? Wouldn't he do it after SHelrair confesses to him, on the roof, about her role in Vivian's death D; Otherwise what's the motive..?))

Fern still could not find herself trusting the woman in front of her. Her question, in itself, was a trap.
If Fern revealed the identity of other maidservants in the Palace, they would be sought out, gathered up, and killed.

However, this also proved one thing: The Maidervants hadn't, at least in a large enough scale, been found and slaughtered.
Probably.
Fern shook her head, "There.. Are. I'm the Head of them, actually... We serve.. Empress Eleanore, but.. Some are away with her and the others were.. Um.. The King.. Serving him. But, I haven't seen any since last night, when those people attacked, and... I hope my friends.. They aren't dead, are they?"
Fern knew she wasn't supposed to ask questions. Nor did she want to ask who this woman was in the case it provoked her in some way.

She felt cornered, but there was nothing she could do except face this woman head-on. She felt a surge of optimism as she told herself that if this woman was, in fact, alliable, perhaps she'd be safer from now on.

[[>Pulse<]]

((Vivian wanted her dead for quite some time, and Trale wants to rule himself without someone promiscuous and manipulative ;D ))

"Oh my no! Not purposely dead anyway!" Shelrair laughed, filling the room with an awkward sensation.
"Hey, loosen up, silly! I promise nobody will hurt you! You'll be safe as long as you are with me, you are too...youthful...to be killed, trust me," She told the Head Maidservant with a smile.

By this time Trale was behind the door, it would be difficult killing her, even if their marriage wasn't exactly 'faithful' or 'trustworthy,' he had to admit that they both played each other well.


"We know that the newcomer isn't connected to us at all," Vivian told him.
Trale nodded.
"But...I feel as if we have met her before, even her name is slightly simila-"
"Trale! She is a spy, an assassin, an agent, or all of those things! How else could she have found us? She came through the front door as if she had been there dozens of times."

Trale looked to the ground, still unsure.
Vivian sighed, "Trale...You want to be second-in-command, to be the ruler if I should fail. I need you to trust me, trale, this woman is here to stop us and receive information."
Trale clenched his fists, "What do you want me to do?"

"...Test her. Get close to her."

Trale exited Vivian's Office, and saw the young woman sitting on a black leather couch.
Although the light was dim, her eyes were incredibly bright, a dark and intense colour that did give her a sense of malice, Trale remarked.
Her hands were delicately laid on her long skirt, her frilled black jacket was all that could keep her remotely warm in the freezing network of web-like tunnels beneath Central. Unbeknownst to them.

Trale approached her, and immediately she looked up at him, her face was flawless and pure, her hair was long and luscious, and it seemed that every step he took closer to the woman, he became more and more enchanted by her beauty.
"Are you cold?" Trale asked, less confident than he planned.
She shuddered, then nodded.

Trale sat down beside her and wrapped his hands around hers.
"I'm sorry. It gets cold down here...Very cold, the only room that is warm is the meeting room that has a fireplace in it. I...I believe that you should stay with us, uhm...what was your full name again?" Trale asked through stutters and staggering.

She leaned in closer and kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear.
"My name...Is Shelrair Selaine."

Vivian opened a large drawer that immediately burst with papers and hundreds of old photographs that Vivian took glimpses of.
A beach.
A port fortress.
4 Families.
A suited man with grey eyes.
A Forest.
A mansion.
A cliff.
They all caused Vivian to think back to these places that he and others had been, and thinking of the faces that he had once seen. Or not.
Nonetheless, none of these photos were what Vivian was looking for.
He digged into the bottom of the drawer until he felt a soft leather case, and gripped it softly, not wanting to further damage it.

He opened the cover, revealing it to be a small diary, and on the first page was a message, it was smudged and faded, but still readable.
To My Beautiful Vivian, I know by the time you have found this you may be a little older, you may even be a fully grown man. This diary is a gift from me to you, I know your father may not want you to have this, so I kept it hidden, it can be our little secret, okay?
This diary is filled with all kinds of things that you might not even remember, entries about where we have been and pictures of people you couldn't possibly recall. It is, simply, a record of your life up until the age of 12, Vee, and also my life, so you can tell it to your children.

Remnants of my love, an old tune I used to sing you to sleep on stormy nights, is also in here,
under a photo on page 63, read it when you find yourself troubled, when you can't sleep, or when you
need me.
All you need is in this diary, and I trust that you read this letter to you in utmost care and focus,
we love you, your father and I, you will become a great and powerful man, and we will meet again,
at a place that we have been to again, and as long as you have this little gift from me to you,
you will be with me. Read this as many times as you wish, my dear.

I love you, my precious Vivian, and I hope that you make the right decision, for I care for you more than anything.
Farewell, Vee,

Love Mother.
Vivian had read this many times, never quite understanding it, but found it soothing when he was confused or lost.
No, this wasn't what he was looking for, for at the last page, was a very old and burnt photograph, but he remembered this woman very very well.
This woman was Mishelle Selaine.

[Farrelei]

((Oh okay I guess that makes more sense.
So is Shelly's REAL last name Selaine, or is that also a fake? xD
Sorry I've got a bit of writers block ._.))

"Trust me," she said.
As if I have a choice.

"So, are you.. Uh.. Well, what I mean to ask is - are you from around here? The Palace?"
There was a little silence. She swallowed, "Um.. Because I haven't seen you around and.. I'm scared, so I wanted to know what was going on... It would calm my mind I think..."
She blushed, and as she did, she suddenly felt very dizzy. She shook her head, though.
She had to stay awake. If she fainted here, well... She wouldn't even have a single chance at escape, would she?

After the sermon for that morning was given, McKenzie - who had personally given it himself - started to move back to his room.
A firm hand clapsed over his shoulder.
Treed...
"Father... How's your morning been?"
McKenzie frowned, "Actually, it's been rather.. Tiring."
"Oh." He wasn't sounding like his usual self, "Why?"
"Treed. I haven't slept. You know yesterday was heavy on me."
"Well, there was an attack at the gates of Gardaine Palace, and the East Gate was obliterated. Your visions don't fail you."
"...What's the matter, Treed?"
"I just find it interesting that our Holy Creator suddenly has an interest in politics, Father?"
"...Hm?"
"Well, your visions have all revolved around political matters, is all."
McKenzie smiled, "That's interesting, Treed. Perhaps you're right, you know. But, Judgement could come at any time. These matters may be.. Signs, of some sort. I hadn't quite thought of the-"
"Father..."
McKenzie stopped smiling.
"Father. We are united within the eyes of our Creator. So then why do you lie to me?"
McKenzie's eyes widened.
"You are supposed to guide us. To teach us the truth, the way They desire you to. But when you distance yourself from the truth and speak nothing but lies.. All you do is stain the truth. And we will have no choice but to teach these lies to our children. And then the Truth will be lost. Right, Father?"
"...Treed-"
"I know. I'm sorry for questioning you. But I know you were gone yesterday.Whatever you got yourself into is not my business, Father. But I just want to let you know that I believe in you. So Father, please. Don't destroy that faith."
Treed bowed, and then was gone.