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Chapter 7 - Part 6

They'd arrived at the main entrance just as the sun completed its journey beyond the horizon. Yet, there waited no one to greet them.

"Empty house?" He mused. A look at the doors and around the entrance revealed an entirely vacant scene. "They must take the tournament pretty seriously."

While he swayed in thought, Lyric simply continued forward, placing her palm on the gate. As she did so, the outline of her hand lit up on the wood of the door, after which it creaked open.

He stood without much of an idea as to what had just occurred.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that? Is it that weird to use a lock?" she pried.

"No, I just—…" Kyoya ultimately gave up on explaining himself, instead raising a hand to pet Brynn as they entered. "What are the odds we're the only ones here?"

The Seraph cast looks around them. Some went to the foyer, others to halls that he knew would require exploring down the line. He at least remembered the path they took to reach the Pinnacle, although he had no idea where their room was—a result of Lyric's shortcut the night before.

They stood only a few feet inside the main entrance, within a grand foyer he hadn't been given the time to digest when they'd arrived yesterday. The same tried-and-true theme of red and threaded gold carpet adorned the floors. Ivory pillars, granite fixtures, and silver or gold highlights ran through just as in any other part of the castle's interior.

Further into the room, a pair of twin staircases curved around an ivory statue of a Dragon. However, this one had features entirely different from those of that which he'd tended to at the highlands.

Hallways extended from the North, East, and West ends of the room. The southern end led back outside and the northern hall stood at the top of either staircase. It trailed a short balcony that overlooked the statue, along with the rest of the foyer.

"So-so. If they're still on tourney duty, that means all of the Albions are out right now. Rory doesn't really hang here much, either. Of course, that means we'll have to wait a spell before we get to chat with Ace again."

Kyoya nodded. Brynn was already dozing off on his shoulder.

"Actually, how come you guys call her Ace? I thought it was just a nickname from you, but then Ryder doubled that up."

Lyric looked up the stairs, with a hand pointing to a painting that laid above the Northern hallway. It depicted an arm made of clouds, which sprouted a human hand that held a gleaming silver sword in its grip. Light radiated from both the hand and the weapon's hilt, and dimmed as the blade extended.

As its edge reached an end, a golden crown circled the point. The ornament had gilded wreath of leaves draping down over its left and right sides, sending shimmering flakes to rain down onto the hand.

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"This is gonna sound weird, but…" The girl took a moment to examine the room—apparently confirming the absence of any prying eyes. "...it's because she hates her name."

"You weren't kidding," noted the Miscreant.

"Her name's Azalea, but the name has a bit of a rough history."

Lyric's tone donned a mystified coat: a suggestion that even she harbored some question for what would follow. "Apparently, there was a third in the circle of Albion kids, but he went missing not long after he was born."

Regret had begun to well up for having asked. While he couldn't have known such a question ran so deep, the fact remained that hearing her recount the answer stung.

"She was officially named Azalea, a sort of counterpart to her brother, who's I was never actually told…"

More thought followed. "...but after he disappeared, they decided to start calling her Solitaire. Think of it as a way of signifying that she'd be the one to carry his untold legacy."

The Seraph's expression narrowed in brief at that statement. Some piece of it brought her clear frustration. "I never question old King Silver, but to heave that burden onto her—"

Lyric finally shook off whatever had come over her. "...Either way, how I feel about it isn't important. The fact is, she's come to hate the idea that people always associate her with the definition of her name, instead of what it was always meant to mean."

"Wait, so like when you first told me about her, and I mentioned the card game?" Kyoya questioned.

"Yeah, exactly like the card game," sighed the Seraph. "Just like a solitaire is a solitary jewel that brings beauty to a ring, it's also a game meant to be played alone… So, people have always thought of her as a ruthless one-man show. That's why she seemed so weirded out by simple friendly antics: she's just never been used to the whole thing."

The Miscreant loosened in stance and moved his gaze to the painting.

"Sometimes I forget how much of a mistake it is to think so shallowly about this stuff."

"Nobody blames you for it, Blue."

By this point, Kyoya was certain that her reassurances alone could move mountains. She personified the Hope, undoubtedly.

"As far as the Ace thing goes, she took on the title because an Ace is always a card that coincides with excellence—I'm sure you can see the resemblance. As for the particular card, she decided on the Ace of Swords…" Lyric motioned to the painting.

It was only then that he noticed its lack of any associative markings to any card game he knew. "…She chose that because it’s an Ace that's not in the deck of a game of solitaire."

Lyric took a long, deepened breath. Finally, an exhale escaped her after having cleared any negativities from her system. "When it's for the sake of formality, she's Solitaire. But, if you're really tight with her—she's Ace."

"I doubt I'll ever need to ask more, now. Still, though… It kills me to think about what she goes through, knowing just what it makes her think about any time someone calls her by her real name."

"Water under the bridge. If it'll eat your lunch that bad, just take that as getting us even for fighting for me."

Kyoya shifted in place. Eye contact was nearly impossible after such a claim. Brynn had since fallen asleep, leaving him without any means of deflecting his partner's sentiments.

"C'mon, don't do that."

"It doesn't hurt to throw around some ego every now and again. You're the Blue Devil after all: have a little fun."