It was all very… anticlimactic, in a way.

Ruban didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Certainly, something other than this calm, almost reasonable approach to a multi-generational political conspiracy.

Viman really didn’t seem to have any self-serving motivations. He stood to gain nothing, personally, by thwarting the alliance between earth and Vaan.

Even if he managed to incite a war – which was far from a foregone conclusion – there was no guarantee he’d live to see the end of it. Especially now that he’d publicly outed himself as one of the masterminds behind the plot.

If the Aeriels lost the war, it was still unlikely Viman Rai would evade their vengeance.

Even a losing army could easily assassinate a lone target. And being the well-known public figure he was, Viman wouldn’t be a difficult target to pick out, amidst all the chaos.

He was doing it all for (what he saw as) the ‘public good’. Forced to choose the best in an array of bad options. Conquering Vaan was regrettable, but it was a small price to pay for eliminating the threat of the vankrai, once and for all. The greatest good for the greatest number…and all that.

Ruban frowned.

If Viman genuinely didn’t expect to survive the war he was trying so hard to incite—

Premonition flickered at the edge of his mind. But Ruban forced it down, focusing on the conversation at hand.

At some point, Safaa had finally asked the question that hung heavy in the alien air, occupying the thoughts of all present—

Should Viman Rai’s plans come to fruition, what would happen to the surviving vankrai?

“After earth has conquered Vaan, all the vankrai currently living will be thoroughly investigated,” Viman said, as if discussing his predictions for the upcoming football match over tea. “If a living vankrai has shown any violent or disruptive tendencies in the past, they will of course be put to death. The vankrai who have led peaceful lives,” he paused, considering. “They shall be monitored closely for any signs of aggression or unrest…but other than that they’ll not be disturbed.”

Viman’s speech was tranquil and composed. And with every calm, measured word out of his mouth, Ruban felt his heart rate surge. Until it was all but a frantic tattoo against his ribs.

Viman’s thought process wasn’t too far from what he’d expected.

But to say such things, straight-faced, before the queen of Vaan. In her own territory.

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The premonition, a persistent shadow at the edge of his thoughts, solidified suddenly into a sharp image.

Ruban felt a sense of urgency building within him. His mind churned, searching frantically for a way to dam the flow of this conversation before it could morph into a disastrous torrent. “Capital punishment can’t be used so casually,” he blurted, cursing his own lack of eloquence. “Especially when it comes to minors. We can’t call ours a civilized society if our laws don’t provide for the protection of children. Whatever that might mean in the context of an Aeriel lifespan.”

Viman shot him a glance, frowning.

They both knew the point he’d raised was irrelevant. No vankrai had been born since the Rebellion, so there were none under the age of six hundred. The question of child-vankrai – and their treatment under the law – was therefore purely hypothetical.

“I would’ve assumed that among everyone here today, you'd be the one to see eye to eye with me, Mr. Kinoh.” Viman’s tone was speculative, his gaze flitting between Ruban and Ashwin. “After all, we share the same goals, do we not? The safety and wellbeing of our countrymen. And lasting peace between humans and Aeriels.” His gaze settled on Ruban. “Or am I mistaken about that? Or about the fact that your own family was destroyed by a vankrai? Surely you haven’t forgotten that loss so quickly?”

The words made Ruban’s blood boil.

But recognizing them for the verbal trap they were, he willed himself to calm down. Instead, he focused on Viman, dissecting every twitch, every flicker of expression that crossed his symmetrical face.

Viman’s features remained relaxed, a mask of serenity.

The hairs on the back of Ruban’s neck prickled with foreboding.

How could he remain so calm, after revealing all that he had to Safaa and her court? Did Viman Rai plan to leave Vaan alive and in one piece, today? Or was this…

Before he could finish that thought, something metallic glinted in the sunlight. A blade hissed past Ruban, parting the air with a forceful gust that ruffled his hair.

Ruban shot to his feet, propelling himself forward with a sudden burst of energy.

Ashwin’s wings flared into existence.

Snatching the reinforced sifblade from the air, Viman lunged at Safaa.

Ruban reacted on instinct, the world blurring around him as he dove between Safaa and Viman.

Adrenaline surging through his veins, he seized Viman’s wrist and wrenched it. The other man snarled, slamming into his shoulder. The normally composed lines of his face were contorted with fury.

Ruban twisted sideways to avoid the full brunt of the sifblade, diverting the attack at the last possible second.

A searing gash appeared at his waist, where the blade had grazed him.

Ruban ignored it, focused instead on wresting the bloodied sifblade from Viman’s clawing fingers.

In a whirlwind of feathers, Ashwin and Shehzaa descended upon them from two different directions.

The air crackled, and Ashwin sent Viman flying with a powerful blow. His body slammed into a nearby pillar, a sickening thud echoing through the space.

That attack had been meant to injure, not kill.

But it was futile. Even if Ashwin were willing to spare Viman’s life…they were in Vaan. And there was only so much he could do, unless he wanted to fight the entire court on behalf of the man who’d just tried to kill his sister.

As Ruban watched, Shehzaa’s hand glowed with a burgeoning energy-shell. She aimed the crackling orb at Viman. It streaked across the hall, hurtling unstoppably towards its target.

Between one second and the next, the shell had found its mark. All but cleaving the pillar in two.

A sizzling hiss filled the air, the stench of burnt flesh and acrid smoke mingling with the iron tang of blood.

Viman let out a short, strangled cry. Raw energy burned through his flesh and bone, until his body crumpled into the mist-covered floor.

His life extinguished.