Art followed the Aleynonlian trio of Watcher, Lua, and Joachim to a middle-class neighbourhood. Unlike the main city where the buildings were mostly storied in height and packed around city blocks, the off-centred areas were more akin to small towns with varied houses built around their own central square. Each district can be considered their own small town in their own right. Each square had a statue that denoted where they were. A valiant stone stallion with its front legs kicking the sky marked the road as part of Stallion Rise.

Art was on her hoverboard and floating in the sky, watching as Joachim picked a lock to a fenced garden of a house and the trio slipped inside, behind the walls, and out of Art's gaze. She deduced that the two story house was their destination, and thus found a nearby alley to land her board in.

Coming in for the landing, a little boy on a balcony watched with opened jaws at the sight of the knight in white flying in from the stars. She gave the kid an awkward smile and put a fingers to her lips in a plead for silence, to which the boy nodded, still stunned, but understanding.

The moment the board landed and her feet touched back to solid ground, her transport folded in on itself and back into its greatsword form, before disappearing in small sparks of light. It'll take a while before the magic of her weapon will be usable again, but Art was not defenceless. Just her physical strength and the weapon alone were more than enough for most adversaries, though she wondered if she would be able to put up a fight if all three of Lua, Joachim, and The Watcher decided to engage her at the same time.

Regardless, she quickly jogged to the house the trio had broken into. Immediately, something was out of the ordinary. The curtains were all drawn, and a small layer of dust was on the doormat outside. She turned to the garden fence and found the rusty padlock still dangling from where Joachim left it. Unkempt grass were peeking out through the slits at the bottom of the wooden barricade, and the paint had faded significantly.

Slowly, she opened the gate.

‟Hello!”

She jumped - for the second time - the moment The Watcher's face appeared from behind the crack of the entrance. Her sword materialized instinctively into her hands and she pointed the tip at the man.

The Watcher simply smiled and opened the wooden gate wide in invitation. ‟You really shouldn't keep pointing swords at people. It's a little rude. Now, come in before someone sees us.” He then turned around and began walking into the building.

While not expecting a trap given the man's attitude, Art was not willing to put aside the possibility of an ambush and kept her sword in hand as she followed in.

She closed the gate behind her and asked, ‟How did you know?”

‟You're flying in the sky. Not exactly a concealed way of travel.”

She wanted to retort but managed to hold her tongue. It was the first time she had ever been spotted. At the height she usually flew at, most people would not even notice the dot of light amongst the sea of stars. Some would even think she was merely an asteroid travelling the night. That was a far more believable explanation than a woman flying on a sailboard, after all.

Instead, she managed to ask, ‟And you still let me follow?”

‟I assume you were asked to by the queen.” They turned a corner and came to an already opened door that let inside the house. ‟It's not like I'm actively hiding our reasons to be here. It just gets troublesome when too many people ask questions.”

The man stepped into the house uninvited, though motioned again as if to invite her in.

Art look at the surroundings, and no one from the other houses had stepped out onto their balconies to look at them. She let off a tired sigh, unsummoned her sword, and stepped inside.

In the dark, the only 2 sources of light were from the lamp in Joachim's hand and a small magical flame produced by Lua from the tip of her fingers. The two were looking about the mess of a room. The living room was separated by a small entryway from the front door to an open kitchen, which stoves and ovens had seen better days without cracks and rust. A flight of stairs lead up to the second floor opposite the entryway, though it was barricaded with hunks of broken furniture, as if someone had made a fortress of the next level. Stacks and rolls of parchments were scattered around the living room floor, where the only furniture was a single 1-seater sofa which leather had frayed in the head and armrests, while covered by a layer of dust.

‟What is this place?” Art asked.

She produced a faerie of firefly light from her hand with magic. The sparks of white appeared and disappeared every few seconds, enough to produce just enough light to brighten her immediate vision.

‟Hang on,” The Watcher interrupted. ‟Let me brighten the place up.”

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He clapped his hands together as if he was about to cast a spell, only for Lua to exclaim, ‟No! It's fine. Why don't you explain the situation to Lae Artria?”

The man looked disappointed as if he was a child prevented from doing a cool magic trick he had learned. It was also weird to see a grown human being lectured by someone so visibly younger, but stranger still that Lua was so animated about preventing him from helping light up the dark.

Still, The Watcher obliged and explained, ‟Like I told you back at the library, we're looking into why The Janus went rogue.”

‟And you think you'll find the answer here? In this abandoned house?”

Lua was perusing over documents over a table. ‟This place belonged to a friend of ours, Shjacky Loyard. It's one of her safehouses we found while following her journals.”

The name piqued her curiosity. ‟Who's that?” Art was sure she had heard it somewhere before.

‟You would know her as Margaret Hari. Or Margen Hari.”

Art's eyes widen. ‟That's... the Janus's adopted child. They went missing years ago!”

Lua continued, ‟She defected to Aleynonlia after The Janus sent her to assassinate our king.”

‟I-...” Art was unsure how to continue at the revelations. Despite her position, it seemed there was an entire world cloak and dagger beyond her scope as the queen's right hand. ‟What happened to Marg- to Shjacky Loyard?”

Lua fell silent, and even The Watcher looked away. Art looked to Joachim. The mute, without crossing gaze, seemingly knew the knight was staring at him and he drew his thumb across his throat.

‟The Janus...” Art slowly pieced things together. ‟Killed her own child? That doesn't make sense? Margaret was to become the next Janus. She was specifically chosen by the Janus herself to receive the power.”

‟That's a mystery, isn't it? Not the part where she killed her. That's just evil. But how could she be chosen to inherit a power?” The Watcher piped up suddenly. ‟Our magic, the power of precognition, all that is engrained into an individual's physical body. How do you transfer a power like that? I know of a way, but that doesn't leave a person particularly intact.”

‟There's a ceremony that is done-”

The Watcher pushed, ‟How?”

‟I... I don't know. I'm not part of the Janus's inner circle. But when a Janus dies, the power is transferred.”

‟Or,” Lua chimed in. ‟Because the power is transferred, the Janus has to die?”

‟What are you trying to say?”

The Watcher, finished, ‟I think someone is a puppeteer behind the Janus.”

Art paused, stunned. Was this what the trio were chasing after? An outlandish conspiracy theory about some shadowy figure more powerful than one of their country's head? Art could not see it happening. Between the queen, the Council, and the Janus, the affairs of state were pretty much all divided and handled. She could not think of any position that needed filling.

But they were also sanctioned by Aleynonlia. Would the king really allow three conspiracy nuts to freely roam the land as representatives to chase a fictional lead?

A whistle drew their attention to Joachim, who stood holding a single piece of paper. With his free hand, he signed, ‟Found it.”

‟Found what?” Art asked.

The Watcher replied, ‟Moira.”

It was then Art saw it.

From the corner of her eyes, through the gap in the drawn curtain, over the statue of the rising horse, and on a roof opposite them was a figure. It looked beastly, hunched over in a hooded cloak. For some reason, the name ‟Moira” rang a bell for her there and then. And held in its two hands looked to be something heavy. She could make out the opening of a tube, almost like a cannon.

Then came a flash.

Instinctively, Art summoned her sword and revved the handle. Like opening an umbrella of steel, the solar board bloomed and she rushed to the window and jammed the weapon to the window.

The impact that hit milliseconds after shattered the glass, no, vaporised it, slamming dead into the centre of Art's opened sword. There was enough force that the knight was immediately thrown off her feet, the muscles in her arms ripping apart for the shockwave of the ensuing explosion.

First, she was thrown into the chain.

The furniture flipped, and she slammed into the opposite wall of the room.

Then she went through it. Through wood. Through stone. Through air.

And finally through the wooden fence around the back of the house.

Initially, there was nothing, a long ring in her ears and her eyes crossed and uncrossing.

Watcher! It's collapsing!

Go! I got her.

Come on, Joachim!

There were footsteps when the ringing finally stopped and Art was staring up at the night sky. A star shot across her visage and she wondered if that was herself flying up there.

‟Art!” The Watcher slid into her vision, frantically bent over. ‟Holy shit! Your arm!”

She tried to raise them to see but could not muster the strength. Her head drooped right, and all she saw was bones sticking out where her right arm used to be.

‟Don't worry,” The Watcher swallowed his surprise. A tone of reassurance fell over him. ‟I'm here. I'll save you.”

She blacked out.