“Plum, don’t go too far!”

The gruff man’s voice called out, echoing slightly in the silence of the evening streets. The man stiffened at the sound, and his eyes flicked between the alleys. It was unnerving, the way the city had grown so quiet over the last few weeks.

“Okay!” a young girl called back, and then, not two seconds later, she went running even further.

“Hey wait! Plum!” her friend called out, not following her out into the street. “We should stay around here!”

The kid had a good head on his shoulders. The man nodded with approval as he returned to packing his merchandise. He had been leery when his wife had asked him to look after one of Plum’s friends as well—especially in such uncertain times—but perhaps having him around would help to temper her tendency to wander off.

However, that approval was quickly soured by the boy’s next words.

“Mom said I have to listen to Mister Appa Man!”

Mister Appa Man?

Kadomon glanced over at the cheeky brat. He supposed that a child would not usually refer to him by name, so ‘Mister Risch’ was probably too much to ask for, but surely he’d be able to manage ‘your Dad’?

However, he ultimately decided not to bring up the nickname. If the kid would listen to ‘Mister Appa Man’, then ‘Mister Appa Man’ he would be. And he supposed it could have been worse. He could have been called ‘Scary Scar Man’.

He turned back to his merchandise, a crate full of the appas that had undoubtedly given rise to that name. It wasn’t the only fruit he sold, but it was by far the most popular one. If you could call it ‘popular’.

He had almost finished packing the last of them away for the day. He had never sold many, but now that the city was so uneasy, his sales had been plummeting.

He sighed. His wife’s family had enough contacts with the larger stores that he’d been able to sell wholesale and support them all, but these days those were practically the only ones he sold. Raksha didn’t mind him relying on them, but Kadomon preferred to try and make a living with his own skill, as unsuccessful as that usually turned out.

He glanced over to check on Plum and her friend again, then started shutting down the stall, moving the crates of fruit back into the small storefront that he rented.

Usually Raksha would help out by moving the lighter boxes, but these days, they felt it was important to have all the daily errands done before the evening, so they could be home before sunset.

He had heard of the horrific murders that had been taking place in the slums recently. The guards had been fairly hushed about it, but the rumours hadn’t described anything good.

He shivered, glancing back to Plum.

She was fine, as she always was. He was probably overreacting. But better to fear too much than to fear too little.

“Plum, come here,” he called, shutting the storefront door, and turning the lock closed. “We’re going home.”

“Aw! We’re playing!” she called back. “Can’t we have five more minutes?”

Kadomon was tempted to allow it for a moment… but only a very slight moment.

“You’ll be able to play tomorrow,” he said. “Come on, we need to have dinner.”

“Nooo, I’m not hungry,” she complained, but she did put a hand to her stomach, apparently only now realising that she was, in fact, hungry.

“Come on,” he said, bending over to scoop her up with one arm. She struggled a bit in his grasp, then settled into a more comfortable position for her.

“Here, you too,” Kadomon said, leaning down to pick her friend up as well. The boy struggled a lot more, though that seemed to be mostly due to being less familiar with being picked right off the ground. He had to admit, he had quite forgotten the boy’s name. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to use it before he could ask Raksha to remind him what it was.

“I’ve been told you’re eating with us today,” he said, beginning the trek to their home. “Your parents will be along later to pick you up.”

The boy nodded, and looked around wide-eyed, evidently enamoured with being so high off the ground.

Lately, he had taken to carrying Plum when out and about. It helped with her tendency to go a little bit too far afield, and more importantly, gave him some peace of mind.

Kadomon rarely admitted it to himself, but he was a scary looking person. He was big, strong, and had a nasty scar over his left eye that spoke of a warrior’s past. He hadn’t actually been a warrior in the past, but he was fairly sure no one would be able to tell.

He was intimidating enough that few wanted to mess with him, not even when he was carrying two children on his shoulders.

He didn’t encounter many as he walked through the streets, at least in comparison to how the city used to be. There were still quite a few, but the atmosphere around them was notably different. There were less children, for one, and every person who passed gave him wary looks.

He reached an intersection, and slowed his steps so he could look down the main street.

The palace rose in the distance, a giant watching over the entire city.

The last surviving member of the royal family wouldn’t be there. Prince Fourier had started the ceremony to call the Divine Dragon, so he would be in the cathedral. But the palace was the symbol of him, so it was to the palace that the people looked.

The Prince had thrown a great parade when the ceremony had begun. Plum had a lot of fun that day, and it had been all that Kadomon could do to keep an eye on her. The people had celebrated. They thought the Divine Dragon’s appearance would mark the end of the unrest that the deaths of the royal family had caused.

But that had been a week and a half ago. And there was still no sign of the Divine Dragon.

Kadomon turned away from the palace, and kept walking.

The evening air had grown chill, and the sun was hiding behind a cloud. Kadomon shivered, and it was only partially due to the cold.

----------------------------------------

“I’m tellin’ yuh, sshomething… sshtrange is goin’ on!”

The man’s drunken slurs were difficult to make out, but Diedrick Ludolf was well experienced in interpreting his elder brother’s words.

“You’re quite right,” he said, not looking up from his documents. “It’s very strange.”

“Yesh! It ish!” Sarwin Ludolf exclaimed, gesticulating wildly and spilling alcohol everywhere. Diedrick winced as he saw some splash onto the couch, but he held his tongue. He’d rather that Sarwin get drunk at home and ruin some of the furniture than let him get drunk in a tavern somewhere and ruin the Ludolf family’s reputation.

Not that there was much of that left to ruin. Diedrick held back a sigh as he examined the paper he was holding. It was filled with arrays of numbers and calculations, all adding up to a very simple fact.

The Ludolf estate had no income. Rather, they were heavily in the negative, and quickly running out of funds. At his most optimistic calculations, they only had a month before there was no money left. At his most pessimistic…

Well, there was a reason Sarwin had taken to drinking.

“Are yuh listenin’?” his brother asked. “I’m tellin’ yuh, the prinsh did sshomtin’, and now the dragon’s angry!”

It took a second longer than usual for Diedrick to parse those words, but when he did, his head shot up in shock, the family’s terrible finances temporarily forgotten.

“You can’t say that!” he exclaimed, then blinked in surprise at his own volume.

His shout seemed to have dragged Sarwin back to his senses, at least a little, because now his eyes were focusing on Diedrick properly, and there was a trace of anger in them.

Diedrick continued unabated, though in a quieter tone. “Just think, what would happen if someone heard you? You can’t say things like that.”

Sarwin frowned, his anger fading as his mind worked through the implications of Diedrick’s statement. He huffed and took another swig from his bottle.

His eyes were drooping now, so perhaps he was finally going to nod off. Diedrick checked the window, but the sky was still relatively bright. He had a few hours of daylight left.

“Buh it’s true,” Sarwin mumbled, leaning down to lie on the couch, spilling what few drops remained in the bottle onto the floor. “If it’s no’, then where’sh tha dragon?”

His breath slowly became more even, and in a few moments, he began snoring.

Diedrick took that as his cue to leave. He gathered the documents from the table, and carefully extracted himself from the room, being careful not to make the slightest of sounds.

He spared one last look back before shutting the door, and let out a very quiet sigh.

“Where indeed?”

He spent a minute sorting out the documents, removing a small number of them and putting them in a package. They were the ones concerning a small village at the northern edge of their territory. In good years, long since past, that village had been the cornerstone of the Ludolf family’s estate, its good soil and easily accessible water source granting it almost unparalleled crop yields.

Those yields had fallen off in recent times, but it was still one of the few positive sources of income for the estate, which made it valuable to the family. And more importantly, valuable to others.

If he could trade it away in exchange for more funds, that would let them subsist for a few months more. Perhaps even half a year.

In that time… they’d be able to figure something out, right?

He strode to the front door, package in hand, and left the manor.

He did not tell the staff to avoid the sitting room, nor did he tell them to remain quiet so as to not wake his brother. He didn’t need to. Every last one of them had been let go, not two weeks prior.

The Ludolf manor was located at the very edge of the noble’s district, almost within the merchant’s district. That had been a sore spot for quite a few generations of Ludolfs, but Diedrick was secretly quite pleased with the arrangement. The land taxes were lower, and the walk into the city proper wasn’t all that far.

The air had been growing chiller as winter started blowing in, so Diedrick was glad to have that shorter journey. He had his thick cloak, but that did little to blunt the winds nipping at his face.

The first thing that stood out to him as he entered the commoners’ section of the city was that there were more people around than usual.

That wasn’t too odd by itself, but with how quiet the city had been in recent days, Diedrick found it slightly suspicious.

They were gathering in one of the large market squares that dotted the city, though these days few merchants were peddling goods there.

He wanted to make sure to get to his meeting with the first potential buyer for the village, a noble who bordered the Ludolf lands, but Diedrick had set off early, so he was in no danger of missing it, even if he spent a little while satisfying his curiosity.

He navigated his way through the crowds, bumping into more than a few other civilians as he made his way towards the square. Most people would be more careful with a noble, but in his woollen cloak, Diedrick was indistinguishable from a normal commoner.

He could hear shouting and murmuring as he approached, and he spotted a number of people leaving the area, their eyes darting across the people in their path, tensed up as if ready to run.

Diedrick watched a few of them with curiosity. It felt like there was much to be fearful of in recent days, but to still feel that way amidst a crowd of other citizens? What could have caused such a reaction?

He continued moving into the square, past more people who looked as though they felt they should be leaving too, but seemed unable to drag themselves away.

Diedrick followed their gazes, hoping to finally see what the commotion was about.

At the centre of the market, standing on top of a stall so he was clearly visible even past the crowd. He was ranting and raving to high heaven, his hands waving wildly, almost like Sarwin did when he was on one of his worst tirades.

Clearly, the man was the source of the shouting Diedrick had heard. He had not been paying attention to it before, but now he strained his ears to try and make out the words.

“...failed us! And our enemies are looking at us even now! How long will it be before Vollachia decides to attack us? Or the great Mabeasts return once more to terrorise our lands?”

There were some murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

Diedrick saw a commotion in the crowd near the speaker, and enough of the crowd moved away that he caught a glimpse of the source, a number of armoured men.

The city guards? I guess he is causing a public disturbance, but most people don’t seem too bothered by him…

“That is why!” the speaker continued, shouting out with renewed vigour at the sight of the guards.

“That is why, we must replace the prince!”

Diedrick did a double take, and his eyes snapped back to the man.

“A prince who lived, even though the rest of his family died from a ‘mysterious illness’!? A prince who refused to call for the Divine Dragon, and instead chose to rule as king without receiving the dragon’s blessing!? A prince who still has not been recognised by the Dragon, even after calling for almost two weeks!? He is a traitor! A murderer! And until we remove him, the Dragon will not aid us!”

At that point, the guards reached him, and one leapt onto the stall, tackling the speaker and dragging him out of sight.

Diedrick stood stunned, as the spell seemed to break over the crowd, and they started dispersing.

At some level, he knew that people had started feeling that way, but he had thought most had confined such thoughts to their drunken ramblings. Preferably private ones, held with only those who were deeply trusted.

But if that man felt he could speak so openly, and so many felt they could listen…

Are those kinds of opinions really so widely held?

Diedrick shivered, but it wasn’t due to the cold.

What is the world coming to?

----------------------------------------

“Commander, here are the newest reports,” one of the city’s guardsmen said. He seemed unprofessionally nervous to have such a high-ranking person present, but Lucius was willing to overlook it. He was borrowing one of their guard posts to use as his headquarters, so he would be polite.

“Give me a summary,” Lucius said, raising his eyes to meet the nervous young man, never stopping the process of writing his own report.

“The riots are rapidly spreading, as more and more hotspots form,” the man read out, before continuing even more nervously, “There have been some suggestions that you organise the guardsman with less training, and have them sent to the riots, or possibly attend to them in person.”

Lucius shook his head.

“I’d do that if these were just our enemies, sadly collateral damage and the training required for non-lethal measures need our more experienced personnel,” he said, dismissing the idea out of hand. “None of you have ever served in the military, or been under direct command. Even if I did command you, there’s even odds it’d cause more problems. No, I'm better here, making sense of all of this chaos, and figuring out who caused it all to start.”

“Start?” the man said, tilting his head in confusion. “Isn’t that simply because of all of the fear that’s been spreading lately?”

“Hardly,” Lucius said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Use your head, kid. No riot would escalate this fast, or have its leadership have so much inside information needed to effectively avoid our initial patrols.”

No, there was something else at play here.

“Can we even handle this at all then sir?” the guardsman asked, his face going paling. “I don’t think any of us are prepared for this.”

“Prepared or not, it doesn't matter now,” Lucius growled, flicking his pen with a final flourish and setting aside the report. “I’ll figure something out, and that starts with me talking to the leader of those civilians we arrested.”

They didn’t have the manpower or prison space to detain every rioter, but Lucius’s subordinates had managed to arrest a few, including one particular ringleader who had just been brought in.

It only took a minute for him to walk the distance to the guard post’s jail cells.

“Are you going to tell me anything about the person behind all of this?” Lucuis asked darkly, making a show of slowly withdrawing his blade.

“I’m telling you that there’s no one behind all of this!” shouted the dishevelled young man, even as he strained against the chains binding him to the prison wall.

“You're not convincing me, miscreant,” Lucius snarled back, all too used to intimidating young, brazen men. At times, it felt the army was filled with nothing but them.

“I must admit, the culprit is clever, dozens of seemingly unrelated people have been gathering for protests for this entire week. It’d be enough to make most think that it was all organic.”

“Go ahead and use that blade of yours and prove us right,” the prisoner yelled defiantly. “All it’d do is prove that you're as big a piece of shit as your ‘Prince’. All you're looking for is an excuse to hurt us commoners! Pieces of shit like you, who worship that blasphemous Prince of yours disgust me!”

He spat, and Lucius leaned to the right, allowing it to fly past.

“But the culprit made a mistake, you miscreants shared far too much information with each other,” Lucius continued, narrowing his eyes and sheathing the blade. “You all managed to not only attack at times, right after another, but you were organised to avoid the majority of my patrols. It’s clear that I have a leak of some sort, who’s giving the information to someone. If I can find that person, then I believe I can identify the cause behind all of this.”

“Get bent, old man. You're not getting anything out of me,” the attempted rebel said, leaning back against the stone wall of the prison, no longer struggling in vain against his chains.

“Oh, giving up on the angle that there’s nothing to find? I will figure this all out, I swear it.” Lucius said, clenching both of his fists.

----------------------------------------

Flores ran like the wind.

That was something that was hard to do with his legs burning with scrapes and cuts, while simultaneously cradling an injured arm, but it was amazing what having a few guards on your tail could do for your endurance.

The inner sections of the city were rather barren these days, except for when those large crowds seemed to form out of nowhere.

He dodged around the people of one such crowd, and then ducked into one of the back alleys.

From behind him, he heard the shout of, “Stop! Thief!”, but he continued running.

Do they honestly expect me to just stop because they shout that? Yeah, I’m a thief, but I’m not dumb enough to wait for you lot to catch me, you know?

He pivoted around a tight corner, but he put too much strain on his bad ankle, and he stumbled for a few steps.

His mind went blank for a few seconds, waiting for the pain to hit him… but it didn’t. He ran a few paces more, but his leg didn’t tense up or force him to limp.

That was good. He’d never escape if he twisted his ankle now. If only he hadn’t tried to kick that man with the bulging belly…

“There he is! Get him!”

Flores cursed under his breath and picked his pace back up, shooting out onto another main street, dodging between dragon carriages and into another alley on the other side.

Going through the carriages was one of the best ways to lose a tail, those goody-two-shoes guards never bothered to dash across recklessly like the slum-dwellers did. Sure, quite a few slum-dwellers got injured or even died pulling that move, but you had to be strong to survive the slums. If you didn’t live strong, you didn’t deserve to live in the first place.

He spared a glance over his shoulder, and sure enough, the three guards following him had slowed down so as not to get in the way of the traffic.

Still, he couldn’t afford to get complacent just yet.

He darted between the alleys, avoiding the respectable streets and continuing to run like there was no tomorrow.

The next main street he reached, he slowed down, and crossed the street slowly, more like a reasonable person who just really couldn’t be late for something. He spotted a pair of guards out on patrol eyeing him from the other side of the street, but neither seemed inclined to pursue him.

The other kids in the slums often mocked Flores’ insistence on making sure his clothes were respectable, but it paid off often enough that he kept at it. Right now, he looked like one of the normal kids from around these parts, perhaps one that had played a little too roughly with his friends, and one that was a little too late to be returning home, but not one worth bothering.

He slipped into another alley, and once he felt certain that the pair wasn’t going to bother him, he started running again.

It was still early evening, but he didn’t want to be late to be home. The guards and soldiers patrolling the neighbourhood didn’t tend to stay out too late, meaning some of his friends chose to return to their hideouts after they were gone, but Flores didn’t want to end up like Sabatha.

He hadn’t seen her body, but he had heard the rumours. Everyone had.

It was unnerving, all those people, dying in such horrific ways, and all the warnings to look out for bugs. He could barely sleep these days. If he didn’t have a group of other kids he bunked with to help keep watch at night, he doubted he’d be sleeping at all.

He crossed one last street, and then he was across the invisible line that separated the slums from the rest of the city. He slowed right down, shifted his posture, and continued onward.

It only took a few minutes to get to his hideout. He encountered a couple of patrols of those new soldiers, but dealing with them was way easier than the guards. The guards were dangerous and unpredictable in the slums, but these soldiers were under strict orders not to cause trouble.

In fact, they were mostly there to try and find the source of the murders. Flores knew they only really cared because they didn’t want the murders to spread into the rest of the city, but it was still somewhat reassuring to have them around.

That’s why he only spared them a few evil looks before slinking off into the shadows. It was good to keep them on their toes.

It only took a few more minutes for him to skulk to the hideout.

It was a nice place, for the slums. It was one of the few two story buildings in the slums, but it had not been maintained in quite some time. The adults had abandoned it due to the draughts and dangerous creaking it tended to make on windy days, but such minor things didn’t matter to the kids. They just used more blankets on the cold days, and a few of the older kids had spent some time nailing planks around to support the structure.

He darted the remaining distance to the building, and slipped inside.

Lain was on watch that day. The older, lankier boy was sitting at the community table, whittling a piece of wood with his knife.

He glanced up as Flores entered, and then looked back to his carving.

“You’re the first back,” he said, turning the wood over to the other side. “Get anything good?”

“Yup,” Flores said with a grin, pulling two pouches out of his pocket. “Found two easy marks! Both merchants, both only carrying silver! This’ll be enough for a week!”

“Really?” Lain looked at him in surprise. Then his eyes flicked to Flores’ left hand, hanging limply at his side.

“You’re hurt.”

Flores shrugged with one shoulder. The other hurt, so he didn’t want to move it.

“Only a little. I tried to get a third, but that guy was a lot more perceptive than the other two. Got a good hit on me.”

Lain frowned. “Still… it’d be better to get it healed.”

“Healed?” Flores asked, tilting his head. “Wait, you mean with healing magic? No way we can afford that!”

“We’re not going to pay for it, obviously,” Lain said. “You’ve heard of that church ‘deli-gay-shon’ that’s been offering free healing?”

Flores snorted. “Yeah, but there’s no way I’d trust them. They might try and make us pay after they finish, or maybe use some strange magic on us to make us confess to things.”

Lain shook his head. “No, I heard from Old Man Hendrick just today. He went to visit, and they healed him, no strings, no questions, no nothing. It’s worth checking out.”

“Hendrick did?” Flores asked with incredulity. The grouchy old man was probably the least agreeable person in the slums. If even he had no problems with the healing…

Flores glanced at his arm, and lifted it slightly, trying to judge how bad it was. It hurt, but it was a dull pain, and it didn’t impede his movements much. He had landed on it hard when that man with the belly had tripped him up, and it had hurt a great deal then.

…perhaps it would be best to get it looked at. Especially if the healing was free and all.

“They’re in the old church,” Lain said, apparently reading the thoughts right off his face. “They apparently still own it. They’ll be around ‘til just after nightfall, so you don’t need to rush.”

Flores huffed. “You know I’m not going to risk being out that long. I’ll be back well before then.”

He threw the two pouches onto the table for Lain to deal with, and went back out the door.

He ignored Lain’s protesting cry of, “Hey, put it away yourself!” as the door shut behind him, and then he darted out into the maze of streets and shacks.

He would usually be more cautious when moving through the slums, but it was already late, and he absolutely did not want to be out at night.

He knew the slums like the back of his own hand, so it was easy to find his way across to the old church. There were several soldiers stationed outside the doors, but none of them even glanced at him. Their eyes were focused on the sky, straining to pick out anything in the fading light.

Still, Flores didn’t want to remain in their sights for too long, so he set his pace to a brisk walk, and climbed the steps to the door.

The inside of the church was the same ruined looking building that it always had been. The pews had been looted a long time ago, and most of the windows had been boarded up. The building was eerie enough that none of the slum dwellers had taken it as a shelter, so it was unlikely that the priests had been given much trouble when they moved in.

In the middle of the room, sitting on a rather ordinary-looking chair, was a blue-robed priestess, two other priests by her side.

She smiled as Flores came in, and gestured to the chair opposite her.

“Welcome,” she said. “Have you come for healing? Or… well, no, you have, haven’t you? I can see you hurt your arm.”

“I fell on it,” Flores said, slowly approaching the trio.

His instincts, honed from years avoiding capture in the city, warned him that this would be an excellent opportunity for the two standing priests to try and catch him, but one look at their faces told him that they were harmless. They were bored out of their minds, and their eyelids were drooping with tiredness. They had likely been standing there all day.

“You fell on it?”

Rather than looking suspicious at such a lacklustre explanation, the priestess seemed to have bought it completely. In fact, she seemed rather sympathetic to him, and there was a knowing look in her eye, like the two of them were fellow compatriots set upon by a cruel universe.

Flores got the feeling she had assumed something insulting about him, but he wasn’t about to protest and arouse suspicion.

“Let’s see…” the priestess said as he sat down. She reached out a hand, and Flores felt a tingling in his arm as she created a magical orb of blue light over it.

“Oh… you broke the bone,” she said, a touch of concern colouring her voice. “It’s just a small fracture, but it would be bad if left alone and you fell again.”

The light shone brighter for a moment, then she smiled. “Alright. You were also hurt on… your legs, weren’t you?”

Flores hadn’t mentioned it, but he wasn’t surprised that the priestess was able to tell. He could vaguely feel the magic running around him, and the tingling as it focused on the stinging in his legs.

The priestess moved her hand above his legs, then Flores quickly felt the stinging fade.

“All done!” she said, and the magic orb faded away. She smiled at Flores, but now there was a trace of regret on her face.

Flores tensed, preparing to bolt, but before he could, the priestess grabbed his hand.

“If you don’t mind me asking, could you tell me a little bit about the rumours you’ve been hearing around here?” she asked. “We don’t demand payment, but we would like to hear a little from the people of this city.”

“I—” Flores said, looking at one of the only surviving windows. He needed to get home before dark… but there was still quite a bit of time, and he had just been healed for free. It wouldn’t be that bad to talk for a bit.

“I don’t really listen to them,” he said. “Just the ones about the… you know… the bugs.”

Understanding lit up on the priestess’s face. “Ah, yes. I suppose those are quite important here, aren’t they?”

Her amber eyes filled with compassion, shining brightly with emotion.

“There have been so many of those flying around. It’s truly tragic. You know,” she lowered her voice, and locked her eyes on his own, continuing in a conspiratorial tone, “there are some people who think Prince Fourier is responsible for those attacks. Can I ask, how do you feel about that rumour?”

“Prince Fourier?” Flores repeated, taken aback. “I’ve… I don’t really think about him.”

He was the ruler of the kingdom, but that didn’t make much of a difference to Flores.

But thinking about it a bit more… didn’t it make sense? Prince Fourier was the only survivor of that illness, wouldn’t it make sense for him to create a crisis in the slums, then swoop in and conveniently ‘solve’ it to build up his reputation?

And hell, who was to say that that illness was actually an illness. Maybe the prince killed his family, and came up with the illness as an excuse.

“I haven’t heard that one before,” he said, hiding his internal revelations.

The priestess smiled again, but she didn’t look very happy. “I see. Well, please forget I said anything. I wouldn’t want you to spread those rumours.”

Flores nodded, but the gesture felt like a lie. He felt certain that he had to tell everyone he knew about this, to spread it far and wide, to make sure everyone knew the truth.

He turned to leave, but then had one final thought.

“Will you still be here tomorrow?” he asked.

The priestess seemed surprised to be addressed again, but it quickly passed and she shook her head. “No, I will not. I have to go to visit many different delegations. However, there will be another priest here, you’ll be able to get healing from them.”

Flores nodded. “I see. Thank you, Lady Priestess.”

He turned around, and didn’t look back again.

If he started telling people about the prince, he would get hurt once the wrong type of people started hearing him, and it would be good to have a place to recover from that.

Because now, Flores had a message.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

And nothing was going to stop him from spreading it.

----------------------------------------

“Focus, Cadet Mayer, I need your report. We are proud Karsten Soldiers, after all,” Lucius barked at the young man hunching in on himself.

A part of him felt bad for the overwhelmed young soldier, but the rest just felt exhausted.

It was amazing how fast a human being could get used to something, Lucius thought dully. Screams from various civilians echoed throughout the cool night air, as it had for the last hour as their assigned section was repeatedly hit with attacks.

“Sir,” Mayer said, saluting. “We have rotated with Squad Beta for protecting the east slums and have successfully repelled two separate attacks, but I regret to report that we suffered several casualties sir. It was only Cadet Colin and I that survived.”

“Are you telling me that a swarm of insects have killed the majority of your squad?” Lucius repeated, unable to believe what he was hearing. If only two of the ten soldiers he’d sent out returned, then it could mean that he’d spread his soldiers far too thinly.

He could only hope that this squad was particularly incompetent, because if they weren’t it’d mean he’d potentially sent hundreds of men to their deaths.

But it’s not like I have any other options, if I wanted to respond to the majority of the areas we are being attacked, Lucius thought, gritting his teeth. They were being backed into a corner, and there was little he could do about it.

“Um, Sir… I have some basic medical training… So may I examine your arm?” the young soldier asked, focusing on the arm hanging limply by his side.

“We have better things to worry about then that!” Lucius retorted as he instinctively curled around the broken arm, before he forced himself to calm down.

It was clear that Cadet Mayer meant no offence, and one look into the defeated and shell-shocked face of the young man before him, deflated his anger leaving him with only his exhaustion.

“I apologise for my outburst, it was unbecoming of me as your superior officer,” Lucius said stiffly, forcing out the words. “I’ll allow you to examine my arm, but I’m afraid that I can’t exactly leave this outpost either.”

“That’s alright sir, we can examine you here,” Cadet Mayer said. He looked nervous enough already, he didn’t need the stress of seeing his superior act out of turn.

It didn’t say good things about him that seeing the young man’s fear paradoxically made Lucius himself feel better. But there was something charmingly mundane about his nervousness compared to the screaming that was still echoing in both their ears.

“Sir, if I may, can I ask how you broke your arm?” he asked quietly, as he set to properly wrapping the wounded arm, even as Lucius attempted to return to his map.

Several seconds passed quietly as Lucius considered ignoring him, time was valuable after all. Every second he wasted here was time he could have spent refining their plans. But he recognized just how on edge the both of them were. If taking a small break to converse with this soldier brought them both comfort, then Lucius would be a fool to ignore it.

“One of my subordinates attacked me from behind, while we were dealing with a riot. I must admit I never considered the possibility that King Fourier would somehow become this unpopular,” Lucius admitted quietly, taking a moment to reflect as he finally allowed himself to mourn.

Because the truth was that the person who had attacked him, had once been a close friend of his. He wished he could have asked why, but his instincts had betrayed him. He’d managed to minimise the damage and strike down his opponent despite being attacked from behind, but for once his perfect counterplay drew no pride from him.

“That’s horrible sir! While I wasn’t with my squad long, I couldn’t imagine having one turn on us. Is he dea—” Mayer cut off as he seemed to realise what he’d been about to ask his superior officer.

“Yes, he’s dead,” Lucius confirmed darkly. “I killed him myself.”

Better for him to think it a punishment for traitors, rather than simple reflexes, Lucius thought, wanting more than anything to just close his eyes and pretend this was over. But he knew his duty, and so refocused once more on the map in front of him.

“Fire!” A voice shouted close enough to be understood as more than just a general roar of noise.

Mayer’s hand dropped to his sword even as he rose, and headed towards the door.

“Stop,” Lucius commanded tiredly, “We’ve already had several false alarms since this all started. The residents of these slums at the very least have enough cunning to realise that we are quicker to respond to a cry of ‘Fire’, than we are a request for help, with how overworked we currently are.”

“Sir, what if this time it’s not a false alarm though?” Mayer questioned clearly itching to be doing something.

“If you have that much energy, boy, then you can organise some of the reports I’ve made. Don’t make me repeat myself,” Lucius said sharply. “We’d know if an actual fire had occurred very quickly. with many of the buildings being wooden, they wouldn’t last more than a few minutes, before collapsing.”

As if to spite him, the distinct sound of a building collapsing hit their ears seconds later, causing the two men to rush out of the abandoned storefront they had been using as base.

“The fire is spreading, Sir! What do we do?” Mayer cried out as they saw several of the nearby buildings flickering with flames. There were some nearby, but Lucius could see other houses burning further afield, and smoke was rising from places beyond the range of their vision.

Impossible! The only way for multiple fires independent of each other to have been set off would have been…

“It’s those damn rebels again! They must have lit fires all at once! We need to make a makeshift fire-break immediately! These fires were designed to be spread, and at this rate it’s possible that we could lose a large chunk of the residential areas.”

He glanced around, trying to determine where the fires were placed.

“If we can hold them back for just a few minutes, I’m sure reinforcements will arrive to help!” Lucius barked, his working hand clenching hard enough to carve bloody lines into his palms.

“But Sir, what about the residents of those homes? Might they not still be inside? Shouldn’t we organise an evacuation?” Mayer asked quietly.

“We don’t have the manpower to do as you’d suggest, Cadet, and your life is no longer your own,” Lucius said. “For all I know, it is currently just the two of us still located in this sector, as none of my other soldiers have reported in yet. If we don’t act quickly many more lives will be lost.”

“Sir I don’t know any magic though,” Mayer said softly. The shock of seeing the blazes seemed to have driven off his fear, but that wouldn’t last long. “How will I construct a fire-break fast enough?”

“You have my permission to enlist the citizens around you to help you. If they don’t help, odds are high that they will die from the fire as well, or at the very least lose their homes.” Lucius said, hardly believing the order himself.

He was telling the truth about the consequences, but even for him the idea of forcing civilians to help sat poorly with him. It wasn’t uncommon for emergencies, but usually there would be a stronger presence of trained soldiers in their ranks. It was going to be difficult to keep everyone organised.

Rather than waste more time though, Lucius set off at a run heading towards the fire, using his one uninjured hand to pull his coat over his face. It would offer at least some protection from the bilious clouds of smoke that had started to cover everything.

His own earth magic wasn’t anything special, and was far too slow to be useful in direct combat, but it helped decide skirmishes where he’d prepared the battlefield. It should be more than adequate for any ordinary fire break, but with the sheer scale and multitude of the fires, even he would fail alone.

The earth softened as he channelled his mana through his sword, allowing it to easily carve furrows far wider than just the edge of his blade.

It was a mixed blessing that by heading into the path of the smoke, that there were few civilian members still remaining, with most remaining being corpses, either trampled to death in the evacuation, or having succumbed to burns suffered while escaping.

But even in a manmade hell such as this, there were always exceptions.

“Please! You're a soldier, aren’t you!” a young girl cried, clutching onto an unmoving woman. “You have to help my mom! she’s fallen and won’t get up.”

He was well within the area of the fires, between several that had started to link up. A fire-break here would only buy time, without actually preventing the fire from spreading. But in that time, Cadet Mayer would be able to create enough of a break to keep the blaze contained from his side. He couldn’t afford to waste time.

“I’ll do just that, but I’m afraid that you’ll just be in the way, run ahead and I’ll bring her to you alright,” Lucius said soothingly, even as he never stopped pouring his mana into the earth.

I can’t let this slow me down. Lucius thought, his body felt heavy at the thought of continuing.

He wrenched his sword, and a house shuddered as its foundations became unstable.

It collapsed, throwing up sparks and ashes, the few flames that had been catching on its timbers spluttering and going out. He didn’t have the manpower to clear the rubble, so it would be alight again soon enough, but without the height of the building, the flames would be a little more limited.

“You promise?” the young girl asked, clearly running out of options as she coughed under the thick smoke pouring through the streets.

“I promise that I’ll bring your mother back to you in one form or another.” Lucius said sincerely, hating that even now he was qualifying his statement. “May I ask for your name?”

“Plum. I’m Plum Risch,” the girl said, tears dripping down her eyes as she stared longingly at her mothers still form, for a few more seconds before she dashed away.

Lucius watched as Plum wisely gave the collapsing buildings a wide berth, but he found himself shouting after her, even as he coughed thickly into his jacket.

“Make sure you use some clothes to cover your face! Otherwise the smoke inhalation will kill you!” Lucius shouted, before forcing himself to start carving once more, stepping over the body of the woman he’d promised he’d retrieve, taking only a moment to confirm his dark suspicions.

I’m sorry that I’m allowing your daughter to cling to the false hope you're alive. But I swear that I’ll come back for you, and I’ll bring your remains to your daughter myself. But your girl needs to stay alive to do that, so I’ll do my part in putting a stop to all of this, so I swear on my honour and life. Lucius thought, pushing his body harder.

He had work to do, and he would get it done.

Even if it cost him his own life.

----------------------------------------

Fourier had pushed himself again.

He was swaying where he stood, still clutching the rod that bound him to the Obelisk, and still draining himself to the bone to operate it.

Julius did his best to hide the frustration he felt at the sight. His lovely buds tried to help blunt the worst of that emotion, speaking softly to share their reassurance. He felt grateful to them for the action. Their presence helped to ensure he was always in top form, completely aware of his surroundings so that he would be able to detect if someone approached the sanctum again.

After the incident a few days ago, he couldn’t help but feel tense, even if Fourier had assured them that Bishop Jaune would deal with the priesthood. But relying on somebody who had already proved incompetent was troubling, especially for a matter this important.

But those were concerns for another time.

As Fourier swayed a little too much to keep ignoring, Julius took a step forward, allowing his liege to lean onto his shoulder. It was an act that he had grown used to due to King Fourier’s condition steadily deteriorating due to the repeated drainings. Still, while it was troubling to see someone he respected so drained, it only increased the respect he held for His Majesty.

Sadly the same could not be said of Ferris. He’d taken the deteriorating condition of King Fourier incredibly personally, and hadn’t taken the fact that he couldn’t heal him while His Majesty was under the protection of the divine artifact well.

Even now, Ferris was fretting by Fourier’s side, doing what little he could with the options available to him. Mostly, that consisted of occasionally wiping Fourier’s brow with a damp cloth, but sometimes meant trying to relieve Fourier’s weariness even through the drain of the artifact.

Julius had forced himself to ignore the mumbled curses Ferris had directed towards the Divine Dragon. He was far too frayed to properly care about what he was saying. There was no harm in it provided he only spoke such words in private.

“You should start weakening the connection,” Ferris stated, apprehension lacing his voice.

He placed a hand on Fourier’s chest, and closed his eyes. Julius felt the slightest disturbance of mana in the air, and then Ferris sighed.

“You still have a fair amount of mana left, but it isn’t healthy to drain yourself nearly empty so regularly.”

“Come now, Ferris, don’t pretend you didn’t push yourself harder at the mansion,” Fourier responded. His tone would usually be quite sharp for such a retort, but his voice was softer than normal. Softer, and wearier.

“That was different!” Ferris said, face reddening. “Healing magic is most easily performed on one’s own body! I can afford to push myself harder as a result, you know that! If Ferri had been going too far, you would have personally come to the mansion and forced me to stop!”

Julius closed his eyes, wishing that he could ignore the argument between his two friends. He knew how important it was for His Majesty to continue, yet he couldn’t deny that a growing part of him agreed with Ferris.

Fourier sighed softly. “I know things are not ideal. But I can’t stop, not yet. We both know that the tension is getting worse. If anything, the physical signs of my body acting up could be the card we use to get more time.”

Ferris narrowed his eyes, and practically hissed, “While I’m sure that idea sounds noble, you know that they don’t trust me! It’d be simpler for them to just assume you're faking it! They've already accused you of pretending to summon the dragon!”

Fourier shook his head weakly.

“You're right in that no matter what I do, some will still refuse to believe in me. But the opposite is true as well. I know that there will be people who will always stand by my side, even if I allow myself to be weak.”

Julius suppressed a frown. If he hadn’t been appointed by His Majesty as his personal guard, would he have given him his unconditional support immediately? Especially with the foundation of their Kingdom seemingly ignoring him?

“Then Fourier, if you recognize that Crusch and Ferri will always be by your side, why are you insisting on pushing yourself so hard?” Ferris asked, tears forming in his eyes. “Why do it for those who won’t ever listen to you in the first place? It’s better to give up on such people, Fourier, rather than wasting your energy trying to change them.”

Fourier sighed once more, before locking eyes with Ferris.

“Did you know what first put me on my path? It was talking to Crusch about her thoughts on the previous Lion Kings. I was so incredibly jealous of them, to think that they’d capture the attention of the woman whose respect I want more than any other, it really left me with only one option. If I wanted to capture Crusch’s attention I’d just have to surpass them.”

“...to think you had such a stupid reason.”

Ferris lowered his head, and roughly wiped his face before continuing. “But I suppose it’d fit someone like you, Fourier.”

“That’s why I think you're wrong though Ferris,” Fourier said, a smile starting to form. “I think if I ever allowed myself to slack off, it’d be Crusch who’d be the first in line to shake some sense into me. If I’m to be the Lion King that everyone seems to think that I can be, this is only the start of the challenges I’ll face in the future.”

“After all, to someone worthy of being called Lion King, there’s an entire third category belonging to those I can change.” Ferris said, sounding almost cheerful, “Many of the priests here are experienced healers. They will be able to see the truth of my condition, and so, if I push myself to my limit, they will be forced to acknowledge that I am doing all that I can. Jaune knows his healers well, and will be independently checking with many of them to confirm what he already knows. After the mess with Roswaal, even I’m not sure what Jaune’s reaction would be if I took it easy, when the church is struggling with insubordination in their ranks.”

Julius felt a tension he hadn’t even noticed build up fade. Julius hadn’t known Fourier in great detail before his appointment, but even if he wouldn’t have offered unconditional support, he would have kept his mind open and would have been convinced after seeing Fourier work so hard.

Slowly, a smile started to grow on Julius’s lips as the tension fled his body.

Surely these priests will be swayed by seeing the effort His Majesty was going through for them. They serve the Divine Dragon Volcanica renown for his wisdom, after all. Surely they must also realise that the only reason Volcanica hasn’t shown up yet, must be due to him being busy handling a problem of great magnitude.

Before he could fully relax however, Julius felt a jolt from his buds. Ia had spotted a great many individuals approaching the sanctum.

“Your Majesty, we will soon have an audience,” Julius interrupted, a frown creasing his brow. “Do you think that you are capable of standing alone?”

“I will have to be,” Fourier said, pulling himself off their shoulders. “Thank you for the warning, Julius.”

Julius nodded in understanding, and took a step back.

However, he still did not trust the priests well enough to let them approach while he was unprepared.

He stood ready to draw his sword in an instant, one foot placed slightly in front of the other so he could quickly shift into a fighting stance.

His spirits, too, prepared in their own ways.

Ake formed a link to the building, and through it, to the earth itself. In took the moment to cycle her own mana in tune with his own, small sparks of golden light forming around his arms in particular. Alo reached out to the air around them, getting ready to wrap wind around him and cast away projectiles. Ia focused on his blade itself, taking the steps to ready their ultimate technique, so they’d be able to use it if it proved necessary.

Kua and Nes were the only two of his buds that didn’t instantly take to arms, Kua focusing instead on Ferris to study his reaction, and learn from the greatest healer in the country.

Nes instead chose to relax further, lazily drifting around the room as if scolding the others on their paranoia. She was far more focused on murmuring calming emotions to Julius.

For several tense moments they waited quietly.

Julius privately worried that he was acting too rashly, but when he considered the incident a few days previous, he couldn’t fault himself for it. If the people turned out to be harmless, he would relax. But not before they were gone.

He could see Fourier forcing his shaking to subside, pulling himself to stand fully upright, and holding the Sceptre aloft. The rod continued to glow a soft blue, bathing the king in its divine light, giving him an imperious aura despite his clear weariness.

With a creak, the doors opened to reveal Bishop Jaune, flanked by several priests, several of which Julius recognized from their previous attempt to harass His Majesty.

“Jaune? What is the meaning of this?” Fourier demanded, red eyes narrowed dangerously. “You told me that you had sent them away.”

“I did,” Jaune claimed, his head lowered in mock respect. There was a dangerous glint in his eye, one that set Julius on edge. His hand drifted to his sword, and even Nes seemed to realise something was wrong.

“But as time passed,” the bishop continued, “I realised that I’ve never truly once looked at you without your Father’s shadow hanging over you. I then began to wonder, who was the truly blind one here?”

A self-mocking smile rose on his face, and he lifted a hand to rub his temple. “After all, with how close I was to your father, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that I was unable to take the correct steps at first. Thankfully my fellow priests have forgiven my lapse and are prepared to help me correct it.”

Jaune’s smile only grew as he stared at the soft blue light. “Even the Divine Dragon himself smiles upon us. With your mana flowing through the sceptre, you are bound to the Obelisk. You won’t be able to leave.”

“Do not take a single step more,” Julius cut in, stepping forward and unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion.

Anger furrowed his brow, but he felt fine with allowing that crack in his knightly demeanour. He was furious, both at the implied threat in the man’s words, and at the suggestion that anything the man did in front of him was endorsed by the Divine Dragon. How such a man had become Bishop escaped Julius, but he wouldn’t allow him to approach Fourier, even if it meant pointing a blade at the church itself.

His spirits redoubled their efforts, and faint motes of multi-coloured light began swirling around his sword.

“Should you not heed my warning, I am afraid I will need to use lethal force to defend His Majesty.”

“It is a shame,” Jaune said, meeting Julius’s gaze, and deliberately taking a slow step forward, “that a man as decorated as our Spirit Knight, serves someone like Fourier. Still, did you really think that I would not come prepared to deal with you and the Blue?”

He lifted a hand, and more priests began filling the sanctum. And they weren’t alone.

For a moment even Julius’s blade wavered, but it was not due to the dozens of priests, all armed to the teeth with clubs and maces.

Four of their new enemies were not priests at all, but white-cloaked swordsmen. White cloaks, the exact same as Julius’s own.

Knights of the Royal Guard.

“What are you doing here?” Julius asked, unable to keep the fury out of his voice. “You are sworn to protect His Majesty, not work against him! Stand down now!”

“The Finest Knight,” one of the knights said, a look of regret on his face. “Julius Jukulius.”

Julius recognised the man. He was a knight who focused on his great strength, and had a large, heavyset build, reminiscent of the Captain of the Knights. Oberon Voss, the Bear Knight.

“I know this must be hard for you,” Oberon continued. “But you must understand, we are not sworn to Fourier. Our loyalties lie with the Kingdom.”

“Then what are you thinking!” Julius snarled. “You are betraying your oath by merely being here!”

Oberon shook his head. “I’m afraid not. It has become clear that for the sake of the Kingdom, Prince Fourier must be removed.”

Julius’s eyes widened.

“I’m sorry,” the large man said, drawing his own sword, a large broadsword that would take two hands for any normal person to lift. Oberon held it in one, and pointed it directly at Julius.

“But for the sake of the Kingdom, we must do this.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Julius saw the other three knights unsheathe their own swords.

Julius stood there silently, spending the last moments before the engagement thinking rapidly. He was one of the most competent knights in the kingdom, he knew. He could defeat Oberon in a one-on-one fight with ease. But with three other knights as back-up, and dozens of priests ready to take advantage of any slip-ups he made, not to mention the fact that he had to protect Fourier as well…

If it was Reinhard here, even something like this could be dealt with… but I…

In that moment, Julius wanted nothing more than to throw himself forward and fight until he either emerged victorious or ended up dead.

It shamed him that his heart would want something so barbaric, but as his body tensed and he readied himself, he felt the presence of his buds beside him, and saw as Ferris shakily drew his own sword, he knew that he couldn’t afford to be so selfish.

We need to escape, but the Divine Artifact won’t let His Majesty go so easily. Even if it means damaging our most important relic, I’ll rescue His Majesty. I’m sure even the Divine Dragon would agree that Fourier is more important.

Ia, Kua, Alo, Ake, In, Nes! My precious buds, please lend me your strength! Help me save my friends!

“Al Clarista!” Julius shouted, and his sword lit up with multi-coloured lights as his spirits poured their power into his blade in harmony.

This was the power he had cultivated to serve his Kingdom. He had never thought he would turn it against other servants of that same Kingdom, but as a Knight, he refused to stand idly by.

Oberon’s eyes widened at the sight of his shining sword, and shifted into a defensive stance.

“Everyone get back!” he shouted. “Don’t engage him directly! Let me take the blows!”

Julius smiled. The Bear Knight was mostly correct in his thinking. If any but he were to face Julius’s ultimate technique, they would be cut down in a single blow. Even Oberon would not last against more than a handful of strikes, but that was a risk the other knight was willing to accept.

Unfortunately for their attackers, Julius had no intention of doing such a thing.

In the moments after Oberon’s words, as the priests cautiously moved backwards, as the knights leaned back into defensive stances, Julius chose to turn his back and strike at the chain that prevented them from escaping.

In an explosion of colour and mana, his Al Clarista slammed into the royal blue light connecting the Scepter and Obelisk, but even his ultimate technique couldn’t sever something the Divine Dragon had a hand in so easily.

Distantly, Julius could hear shouting, but he tuned it out, focusing all of his attention onto his blade instead.

A great heat was being released from the site of his blade’s cut, as the connection fought against him with everything it had. Ia was doing her best to funnel the heat upwards rather than allow it to burn Julius, but it was taxing her and causing Al Clarista to weaken.

If I fail here, then there is every likelihood that Ferris and Fourier might be put to death! All I have to do is cut through this obstacle, and nothing else matters.

Emptying his head, Julius poured everything he had into the blade, causing the sparking lights to redouble and a shockwave burst out of the connection, almost blowing him away.

Then his blade itself was consumed, as his technique reached a power he had never before achieved.

With the sounds of breaking glass and an outpouring of heat, the connection was cut. The Obelisk shook violently as the mana left inside of it was left imbalanced.

Letting go of his damaged blade—little more than a hilt at this point—Julius threw himself forward and grabbed both his friends.

“No! Stop him!”

Julius didn’t look back at Oberon’s voice, simply continuing to run towards the back of the room.

Towards the stained glass window.

I need your help once more, In!

Light too soft to be visible in daylight flickered across his body, In too drained to do more than mildly enhance his skin’s toughness.

He ran at the window, heaving his two passengers in front of him, then spinning around at the last second so he took the full force of the impact.

His back smashed through the glass, and he felt the shards pressing against the protection In had cast over him.

He spotted Oberon dashing with all his might towards them, and then they were outside in the evening air.

For a split second, the trio hovered in the air as Alo marshalled her remaining power to attempt a soft landing.

However, drained as she was, gravity proved to be too much, and they swiftly outpaced her flagging attempts to slow them down.

In, please at least save Fourier and Ferris!

Pain sharp and sudden destroyed his thought process, as all three of them were subjected to a rush of heat and force originating from the Church.

Their fall changed from a somewhat controlled freefall, into a chaotic mess as Julius' sense of direction was destroyed.

Curling around his friends Julius did his best to cushion the fall with his own body, he’d save them if it was the last thing he did.

----------------------------------------

Julius opened his eyes as he came to, and saw Ferris glaring at him with tears in his eyes, a healing orb in his hands raised over Julius’s body.

“How long have I been out, and are we safe?” Julius asked, already attempting to rise. He didn’t know how badly the fall had hurt him, but Ferris’s healing seemed to have removed the worst of his injuries. His beloved buds clambered for his attention, all sharing their concern at him falling silent.

“You idiot! That’s the first thing you ask about?” Ferris demanded, looking none the worse for wear despite that abrupt fall. Fourier similarly looked relatively unhurt, which likely meant that rather than Ferris healing himself, In must have managed to follow his request and shield both of them from the worst of it.

“I’m guessing your spirits woke you? You’ve been out for less than a minute,” Fourier stated in faux calm, eyes still burning with rage.

“Understood, Your Majesty. In which case, we must make our escape at once.”

With a wince, Julius rose, one arm easily lifting Ferris off him. The younger man ignored the manhandling. He was too focused on fixing the damage Julius had caused himself.

“Before we leave, I think it might be a good idea for you to look behind you,” Fourier said, swinging his arm to point at what must have been the church.

Julius found it hard to believe his eyes though, as much of the building had collapsed, the once beautiful building in pieces.

“What could have caused this?” Julius wondered as he gazed at Fourier.

“At a guess it was most likely the reaction of the destabilised Divine Artefact, but that doesn’t matter right now. All it means is we have a little time for breathing, but we need to head to the palace as soon as possible,” Fourier asserted. But he himself continued to gaze at the wreckage. There was a hint of mournful regret in his eyes. He felt compassion, even for those who had betrayed him.

Julius forced himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath, as he choose to assess his buds’ state, pushing Al Clarista further than he ever had before had clearly taxed all of them, and it had only been the sacrifice of his family's prized blade that had allowed them to constrain the damage rather than have it explode violently.

It hadn’t helped that he hadn’t even given them seconds to recover before demanding more from them. He’d needed In to enhance their bodies, Alo to slow down their fall, and Kua had helped focus the damage on easily healed parts.

His gate only had so much output, and if it had not been for Ake’s help it would have failed entirely. Thankfully as always his buds performed above expectations and Ake had managed to gather the required mana to help fuel her sisters. If they had a few hours to spare, she’d manage to get the others ready for serious combat again, but until then it would be best if he relied on Ia and Nes primarily, along with his own swordsmanship.

Thankfully for him, Ferris was in the Royal Knight’s uniform rather than his own preferred garb as part of the event, so a substitute was easily in reach, even if its quality was lower than his heirloom blade.

“Ferris, you’ll be hanging onto me from my back, you’ll need to keep yourself steady. Your sight is superior to mine at night, and I’ll be having Ia and Nes snuff out any lights they find to help keep us hidden. It leaves my hands unoccupied, so that I can carry His Majesty in one, and the ceremonial sword ready in the other.” Julius said, tensing his newly repaired muscles in preparation for the run ahead.

“What about this?” Fourier cut in weakly, lifting the still glowing Sceptre connected to him. “In the darkness won’t it just draw more attention?

“Is the Sceptre still draining you? And is there any chance it’ll explode like what we left behind?” Ferris asked worriedly.

“No,” Fourier shook his head. “If anything it’s returning the mana that I gave it now, but I can’t let go of it still. As for the explosion… I’m certain that it won’t do that, at least,” Fourier answered, resigned to its continued presence.

“An easy solution then, Your Majesty, if you're only worried about the glow.” Julius said, shrugging off his mantle, and wrapping it around the Sceptre and Fourier’s arm, obscuring the glow almost entirely.

Sure enough, without the blue light illuminating the three of them, even Julius’s keen eyes had trouble seeing in front of them. Thankfully, after only a moment’s hesitation, Ferris pointed out which direction led to the palace, and they were off, trusting Ferris to act as their eyes.

“I wish that those traitorous priests didn’t convince you to leave your mirror behind.” Ferris grumbled even as his eyes stayed alert.

“It was for the best,” Fourier said, strength returning to his voice. “Our conversation mirrors have been around since the dawn of our contract with the Divine Dragon after all, and anyone attending the ceremony has always left their mirrors behind.”

“I don’t know how you can still say such things,” Ferris said, not bothering to hide his disgust.

“I for one believe it is very admirable.” Julius cut in, “It shows the true nobility of our friend's heart after all. King Fourier went in with every intention of making the ritual a success, after all.”

----------------------------------------

Minutes passed as the three continued to argue, and Julius found that the tension coiled inside him slowly relaxed, even as Julius’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. It was especially useful since Ia and Nes were incredibly successful in their efforts.

Julius could see the magic crystal lights going out one-by-one, as the duo drained any light source in their vicinity to increase their mana and the cover of darkness. Ia was a little slower, both because her fire magic wasn’t as well-suited to the task as Nes’s yin magic, and because she kept returning to their side to make sure their clothes stayed warm. Julius hadn’t mentioned it to her, but she took it upon herself to help mitigate the cold night air none of them were dressed to handle.

But on one such return journey, she had a shocking report to make.

Large fire ahead.

“What?” Julius asked in surprise. Ia hovered in place, trying to describe the situation as she could sense it.

“What is it?” Fourier asked. “What happened?”

“Ia says there’s a fire ahead,” Julius said, straining his eyes to look forwards. Much of the city was lit at night, especially in the central regions, which would disguise a fire to a certain extent, but…

“I think I see it,” Ferris said. “There’s a faint red tinge to the light over there. It’s right between us and the palace.”

The knights met each other’s gaze, then turned to Fourier. While usually they would leap in to help with a disaster like that, in the situation they were currently in…

“We should avoid it,” Ferris said quietly, eyes darting back around the chill night to search every detail.

But Fourier shook his head.

“From the look of it, it’s located in the main intersection,” he said. “It's better to cut right through it. There may be something we can do to help, and even if we cannot, any details we can gather will help the guards' response.”

With their decision made, Julius took point once more, and they approached the area Ia had warned them about.

But as the minutes passed by, and they got closer and closer to the source of the blaze, Julius began to doubt his sight and hearing.

Crackling echoed in his ears followed by the sound of a crash, as Julius bore witness to a fire the size of which he had never seen before. Worse yet, people were fighting on the streets rather than helping to evacuate calmly as the indistinct sounds of multiple people screaming echoed throughout the night air.

Ia, can you stop that fire?

For a few seconds Ferris and Fourier stayed quiet as Julius focused on the blaze ahead, lending his support to Ia as she worked to weaken the fire. He could feel the blaze now, a hungry brand on his thoughts that yearned to consume anything it could. Ia’s influence had slowed its growth, but if he didn’t find aid, then even that wouldn’t be enough.

Still, even that much could save lives, Julius knew, and for a brief moment, he wanted to stay.

Yet he knew his duty all too well, and so he bit his lip and turned his back on the people in front of him. Besides, if he could get Fourier to the palace, then they’d be able to arrange a bigger group to respond to this sudden fire than he himself would.

In spite of those thoughts, Julius found that his body didn’t want to take another step forward, but it was Ferris that broke him out of his deadlock.

“Get moving Julius! We don’t have time to be standing around!” Ferris's voice rang through the smoke filled air, cutting through the noise filled with anger and despair as citizens fought each other.

Grimacing, Julius took off even as Fourier sadly whispered.

“This riot’s occurred because of the Divine Dragon failing to appear, hasn’t it?”

Exhaustion and pain were clear to see on Fourier’s face as he saw what his failure had caused.

“I don’t want to hear another word that stupid out of you, until I can examine you at the palace, Fourier!” Ferris snapped loudly, clearly on edge by the sight in front of them, even as he managed to channel his fear into anger.

Julius couldn’t quite contain his wince at the loud noise, but considering the general mayhem of their surroundings, it shouldn’t have drawn any overt attention.

“That’s him! The Blasphemous Prince himself, witness for yourself as he runs from what his actions have created,” shouted a young man who’s foot rested on the body of one of the guards.

It made Julius blood run hot to see such a blatant show of disrespect, especially directed to one of the servants of the Kingdom, but the ensuing reaction doused any anger he felt.

For at the man’s call, dozens of eyes turned their way, hate filled eyes ready to do anything to tear them apart.

From the way many held themselves, Julius doubted that they encountered combat regularly, so he should be able to subdue many of them, but to inflict such harm would only make things worse, and so he forced himself to run, even as he tasted the bitter tang of regret.

His friend's safety was more important, and his duty was clear, and so he simply sprant past them, his greater speed easily leaving them behind, even as their eyes so filled with hatred lingered in his mind.

The next minute was quiet as Julius focused on speed, foregoing any attempt at stealth as he kept his spirits close, which was the only thing that saved their lives. The attack came abruptly, a blade that should have claimed Julius’s life in an instant, as it came rocketing out of his blind spot, in a blow no ordinary human would ever be able to avoid.

JUMP

In a moment the three were airborne, as Nes lowered Gravity's hold on the three of them allowing him to clear several feet, as Julius’s body instantly reacted to his comrades words, even before his mind realised what had happened.

An attack? Julius wondered, eyes scanning the area and even as Gravity reasserted itself to pull them down, Ia’s light burst through the area, clearly illuminating the area in front of them.

A woman stood where he had been, seeming to have avoided even Ferris’s keen senses, a Kukri blade raised.

“My oh my, I suppose I should have expected such alertness, from one called the Finest Knight.”

The woman’s voice rang through the rapidly heating air, as Ia discarded subtlety in the face of this threat.

Julius’s own heart raced, as he recognized that woman’s face. The bowel-hunter, a powerful assassin who had killed many in distasteful fashions was someone who Julius longed to bring to justice.

But the weight of Ferris on his back, and Fourier in his arms, put a stop to such fantasies. The Bowl Hunter had tangled with Knights before and proven her strength by butchering them. In all honesty, Julius was unsure if he could bring her down with his own Mana so drained and his buds exhausted. But he wasn’t sure he had a choice either.

“Elsa Granheirt, the Bowel Hunter. Were you part of why a riot has started, or are you merely being a vulture and feeding on the weak once more?” Julius asked calmly as he emptied his mind and emotions in preparation for the fight. Against an opponent of this calibre, he couldn’t afford any distractions.

“How rude,” Elsa said, covering her mouth to laugh softly. “I would have expected the Finest Knight to be more polite to a lady. But I can’t say I dislike that forwardness of yours, either. As to why I’m here… let’s simply say I enjoy hunting now and again.”

Keeping his eyes locked on her, Julius knelt, allowing Ferris to clamber off, and handed Fourier over to him.

Both kept silent, either understanding and agreeing with his decision or resigned to the inevitable fact that running wasn’t an option anymore.

In his current state, even keeping Elsa busy would be a challenge after all, if he had to make it a running battle where he had to protect both Ferris and Fourier? With the speed the Bowel Hunter had already shown, that would be outright beyond him.

“My apologies, I would hate to fail to live up to the image you have of me,” Julius said, relaxing his stance, to buy the retreating forms of his friends more time.

“Still, a knight of your calibre is one I suppose I should take more seriously,” Elsa said, amused at his transparent attempt to buy time, as she withdrew a second Kukuri.

Then she dashed at him.

She was incredibly quick, and moved strangely, keeping her weight low to the ground as if intending to once more ambush him. It was a stance well suited to moving incredibly quickly, but such a stance would mean that she wouldn’t be able to fully utilise her own strength either.

His borrowed knight blade deflected the two quicker blades without fail, his superior skill and reach allowing him to barely keep up as the smiling hunter seemed content to merely pressure him, likely assuming that he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Julius allowed himself to return the smile, when he saw Elsa jump back rather than press the attack, despite seeming to have the upper hand.

“My, my I wasn’t expecting you to be a Yin user alongside being a master swordsman. Or perhaps I should instead be complimenting you for how well you work with your spirit instead?” Elsa asked casually, expecting her blades.

“Our teamwork deserves the credit I would say, I must admit it is rare to find somebody who can accurately appreciate the work my beloved buds put in.” Julius said, giving his own blade a quick glance himself. While it was rare for him to work with just one of his buds, all of them had practised helping him with his swordsmanship at one point or another.

Nes’s contribution had been to curse his opponent’s blades each time they clashed. After a few seconds of contact, he would have been able to break them and cut Elsa down.

“My, but you’ve marked them so, it’s a good thing I always keep extras on hand.” Elsa said before launching at him once more, this time throwing each of the damaged Kukri at him to occupy his sword, before preparing to skewer him with her new one.

Let there be Light.

Before she reached him, Ia manifested her brightest light yet, a flash bomb that had appeared directly in Elsa’s vision, distracting her and buying him the valuable seconds to reposition his blade.

He deflected her strike and then riposted, catching her arm at the wrist and then slicing right through it.

The bowel hunter hissed and threw herself backwards, taking a position outside of Julius’s striking range, her severed limb dripping blood onto the ground.

“If you surrender now, I swear on my honour as a Knight that you’ll at least receive a trial rather than being cut down,” Julius offered.

But he didn’t let up his guard. Elsa was smiling, and still seemed unconcerned with the outcome of the battle.

If that display was all she was capable of, then it was unlikely she would have been able to commit the sheer magnitude of crimes she had. There was something she was still hiding.

“You’d cut the show off so early?” Elsa said frowning for the first time since their fight had begun. “You don’t need to worry. I’d say one hand would be a compromise, putting me on par with your handicap, Sir Spirit Knight.”

Julius’s own frown deepened, as this showed that Elsa had an accurate idea of his capabilities at full power, and yet had not hesitated to challenge him.

This time it was Julius that launched himself forward, blade extended as he approached the wounded woman, who surprised him by managing to match his strength even with her shorter blade. Purple eyes met yellow as her grin widened and yet even as his instincts screamed to move, it was too late.

Splatter.

“To think, you focused on hitting the exact same spot.” Julius said as he pulled back, Elsa not even bothering to pursue the wounded man, as she examined the bloodied Kukri with a blush, her arm having somehow regenerated which had allowed her to strike him.

Did Elsa somehow possess healing magic? But to heal such a wound so quickly would only be possible for the most skilled mages, even when applied to oneself.

No, rather than focusing on the method, he needed to consider how he could fight Elsa like this.

He’d managed to minimise the blow, so he’d at least kept the limb, but he was all too aware that he’d lose consciousness in less than a minute if something wasn’t done, with his arteries severed.

Alo and Ferris were both not going to be happy with him, but it wasn’t as if he could use his sword-arm to apply pressure. Instead he requested Ia to help him cauterise the wound, and to her credit she hesitated for only a moment before lancing his arm with flame.

“My, what a nostalgic smell, I wouldn’t have expected it from a Knight such as yourself.” Elsa said slowly, deeply inhaling as she smiled watching the smoke billow from his ruined arm.

“It wouldn’t be right if I stopped our dance from something like blood loss, now would it?” Julius said, smile thinning as the pain hit, even as he once more took up his stance, his working hand pointing the blade straight at her.

What could he do now? He hadn’t exactly been in top shape when he began this fight, but Elsa had managed to deal with most of the cards he thought could lead to victory.

He had only two cards he could play.

Ia, do you have enough energy left for fire magic? Nes, how long would you be able to hold a Shamak for before coming to find me?

Make that one card, he thought as their answers reached him. Ia, had been pushing herself through their entire run after all handling each and every light source, along with providing heat for the group. Her flash bomb had used the majority of her remaining power, and then he’d needed her to cauterise his wound.

Thankfully Nes wasn't as drained, cursing Elsa’s blades had been her only serious expenditure along with weakening gravity for a fraction of a second. She had enough left for their final option.

Retreating.

“How charming, it’s been quite some time since I had prey that excited me as much as you. I almost wish I had come across you at your full strength instead.” Elsa said, blush deepening even as she rapidly approached him.

Julius met her Kukuri with his blade, but rather than make it a contest of strength he allowed her to push him back and assisted kicking off with all of his might, as he was sent rocketing away from the assassin.

Now! Shamak!

Darkness, centred on Elsa’s location billowed out, cutting off her senses.

Before he could convince himself otherwise, Julius turned and ran, eyes burning as he left the murderess behind him.

It should distract her for long enough for him to ensure that she had trouble easily tracking him down, and he swore that the next time they encountered each other things would be different.