Legs crossed beside the window, Rachel observed the DC residents going about their business in their sporty jackets, scarves, and gloves, showing how big of a difference it was in the capital compared to the perpetual sunny weather of Miami.
With the limousine’s roof open, the cold winter weather left her hot breath visible, yet the occasional beam of early moonlight reaching her mitigated the frosty bite. In a way, she liked the contrast to her perpetually hot tropical home.
When in the daylight, she could feel her resistance plummet, allowing her to feel the chilly breeze of DC, and it put some things into perspective. Actually, her past two weeks, conscious and unconscious, had provided her a new outlook from the fast-paced, solitary lifestyle she’d led before The Oscillation.
Her gaze wandered to the nearly full moon overhead, peeking out of the sparsely clouded heavens to meet Nia and her. Despite the temperature being 3°C, she wasn’t as cold as she should have been due to her restored Resistances, now that she was out of the sun. In part, she figured it was the work of the fashionable bunny woman sitting across from her, legs crossed and looking somewhat bored.
Nia rested her cheek against the back of her hand as both their ears shifted left and right, zeroing in on various topics that caught their interest. She could sense more about her partner in crime as the Soul Item drew closer to her spirit, wrapping around it nearly as tightly as her body.
Keeping her thoughts private, a small smile lifted the corners of her lips as she passively studied the Living Denier. Nia was so self-conscious, and being somewhat of a reflection of herself, it made her ponder if others saw the same in her.
Smaller ears darting her way with the young woman’s mirrored eyes, a slight frown touched Nia’s mouth. “And what is with that attentive look, Captain?”
Breathing out a soft chuckle, Rachel leaned against the cushioned armrest and let the glass cool the side of her head. “And what look would that be, Lieutenant? I can’t see myself from your eyes—well, humph, at least I can’t as of yet—so I’ll need you to be more specific.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Captain Hops,” she mumbled, absently fidgeting with her skirt while glancing away. “That buttery, embarrassing look that you can get that my child-side squeals inside at. I get the impression you’re plotting something cute when we should be thinking about the vehicle that pulled in behind us… as if we wouldn’t know.”
Smile becoming a half-smirk, Rachel closed her eyes and adjusted her ears. “No need to be self-conscious, thinking I’m enjoying your child side more than your adult; Little Nia is self-conscious enough for the both of you, thinking that all I want is her bigger, reliable, and badass older self. It’s almost paradoxical since you know better.”
Cracking open an eye, she saw a slight upward tilt come to the bun’s lips as she stared out at the late-night club hoppers on the sidewalk. “Fair enough. You have a lot more social skills than some members of your family fear,” she returned, making Rachel’s smile vanish.
“That has to be my mom talking. She really thinks I have no game, huh?”
Flashing her teeth, the bun showed a devious side-long stare. “It depends on the topic. You’re phenomenal when it comes to negotiating and planning, yet other areas could certainly use improvement… Ma’am.”
“Humph. Well, bite my tail off, Soldier,” she mumbled in return, cheeks coloring a tad at the thrown shade. “My mom will never be satisfied until I bring home a guy she can fawn over… I can see the reason for the crusade she’s been on recently,” she grumbled, recalling the nudging comments she’d received since Nam and Alexa’s wedding last year. “I’m just too busy for those kinds of relationships right now.”
“Mhm.”
Rachel’s vision became slits as she glared at her smug, smirking bag of clothes, acting as if she saw something she didn’t while staring out of the tinted window. However, she was fine with letting the topic die as she turned her mind to what the smiling bun mentioned earlier about being followed. Things hadn’t gone the way she’d planned when Arthur had sent her a message that he’d be sending a limo.
She’d expected him to be inside and that Merlin’s ward was hiding them. Well, that had been the theory until they found the vehicle very much empty on its arrival, which was somewhat agitating; not being able to pinpoint someone through her trusty ears was becoming an issue she needed to solve.
Rachel managed to catch Tom’s voice shortly after they’d entered the limo, giving her a clear picture of Arthur’s plan since the general’s presence vanished shortly after, which had drawn her gaze to the north; it had only been for a second when he likely went out of range of Arthur, but by the process of elimination and her discovery that the warding magic didn’t extend to their vehicles, she had a solid suspicion that the pair were in the SUV that had just pulled in behind them since she could hear it but not the driver or passengers.
Arthur thought he was being crafty, but there was a surprise waiting for them at the restaurant. Their uninvited guests filled her with cautious curiosity, judging by the chatter that came from the place the UK Legend had selected for their meal. Arthur had selected it for the buzz it would generate in the media, yet that also left her with a lot of information, and the king may have bitten off more than he could chew.
Nia gave her a look, making Rachel sigh.
All joking aside, if I’m going to make a private military company, then I have to play politics. It’s important to develop relations with other nations and diplomats, as well. There’s a lot more opportunity in being internationally recognized than tied down to one country.
“Sure, Cap,” the young woman across from her mumbled, mirrored illuminated irises drifting to the street again, “but are we capable of handling attention like this when your organization hasn’t even been fully approved or had more than two people pledge to join?”
Three, including you, she corrected with a grin. Scarlet and Selvaria are hardly small talent, and my family will support us.
“Yes… but, Captain, you’re providing your thoughts on the matter in Congress and the Senate in a few days, which could change the whole paradigm. I just feel you’re being a little more… hopefully optimistic than what I’ve come to expect, I guess? Plus, these are hardly neutral parties that we are dealing with.”
I know, Rachel returned with a sigh, pulling around her unbound hair while considering how best to craft it for the meeting. It’s always different having you as an adult rather than a child with how divergent your worldviews are. This is the name of the game, Soldier. This battlefield isn’t the same as the Legend Quest; they want something from us, and we want something from them. It isn’t kill or be killed, so we need to watch and learn these rules fast.
Fingers spreading for her palm to press against her cheek, Nia grunted in their private conversation, keeping her focus on the cityscape.
“I like it better when we have clearer targets and enemies. This idea of dubious alliances, frienemies, and working with Relica sets my tail on edge.” Her tight-eyed glare darted to her. “And I told you my younger self wouldn’t be able to keep important secrets. Coddling me isn’t going to teach me any lessons.”
Ahh, Rachel nodded and smiled. So that’s part of the reason for your agitation. Look, Nia, the others find you adorable, and admittedly, you can be very sweet and earnest. Give yourself credit where credit is due. I know none of this is your scene, and you want to have an easily identifiable target to beat with a hammer, but remember: right now, your battle is getting into the hearts of my family, which you’ve done phenomenally at this far.
“If you say so…” her slightly slimmer rabbit doppelganger grumbled; Rachel had to wonder if her mother had talked about eating more, which could work since outfits were her primary diet. “I’ll remain silent and observe, then. It’s not my place to make these decisions anyway. I’ll watch your back and see if there are any suspicious parties trying to listen in on us.”
Holding up a fist for her partner to bump with a resigned sigh, Rachel chuckled. You’re doing better than you think, Lt. Bun. Now, should I go with a bun, or would that clash with that poofy tail of yours?
She laughed as Nia folded her shirt to pinch her arm, making her rub the smarting area. Haha. A braid, then?
Nia’s mood improved at the mention of fashion. “No, I like the idea of a bun. In fact, why not use the matching phoenix-themed, u-shape hairpins your mother bought us? I can craft it the opposite way so it highlights our contrasting styles.”
Go for it, Rachel chimed, happy to have her outfit make fashion choices, especially when Nia was far more refined in her taste and understanding of the topic. You’re my expert, Lieutenant. And… I think I know where our dates are…
Her twin rolled her eyes before her vision darted to the rearview window. “Your mother is doomed with a daughter like you.”
Oh, bite my tail! Rachel shot back with a huff. I’ve got game.
“Anyway,” the bun mumbled, “is there a reason why they’re traveling on their own instead of joining us? It seems we would be the topic of a private discussion, or they’re trying to make us believe that’s the case.”
Legs crossing the opposite way, she chortled, regaining her composure. Enjoy the attention, Nia. You’re the one that likes fashion and glamor, so show off your style if you want to ‘show me real game,’ or is it all talk?
“Pfft. Like I have skin in the game,” she snorted, pointing at her real body that tightened around Rachel’s tail for a moment. “I’m just spouting the concerns your mother subtly impressed on me through her off-handed questions.”
It’s relentless! Rachel sighed, shifting uncomfortably while trying to shrug off the topic. This meeting is actually perfect for kickstarting our public image after the Miami body cam footage was released to the public. Yes, I’m sure there will be a buzz of speculation that follows after this, and one could be a spy since that is what you are hinting at, but that is with every celebrity meet-up from this point on. We have enough showings without the negative press, and now we’re greasing elbows with foreign dignitaries.
“I suppose,” Nia whispered, dropping her teasing remarks. “I still don’t like all the cloak and dagger shit. It’s not like we’re friends with these people… Something just feels off about this. What are you feeling, misfortune-wise?”
Leaning against the side cushion again, Rachel scanned the brightly lit evening stores as they neared the restaurant, welcoming more business with the spotted crowd of physically changed individuals.
There are too many directions we can go and threads to count compared to when we were in Miami. It’s as if everything blew apart into a million angles after the Legend Quest. Until we narrow down our paths, all I’ll get are vague impressions that could shift at a dog’s bark… One string of events made her pause before discussing it with her Soul Item.
“But,” Nia pressed.
But this trip to Miami tomorrow for the funeral is big… There’s something that will come out of it that will make a massive difference. I’m not sure if it is positive or negative for us, and the same can be said for this meeting. My gut feeling toward the Saints and Arthur has been flipping by the day, to the point I can’t make my decision. I have to feel my way through the discussion to be sure.
“Haaa. Well, hopefully, that will change tonight.”
Silence took them as Rachel studied her uncomfortable outfit. It was hard to explain how close they’d become in the last few weeks. Perhaps that was due to her literally wearing the young woman or their tied spirits, but it was nice to have someone reliable and relatable nearby, someone whose reliability could bring comedy, adorable cuteness, or provide a pair of eyes to watch her back.
It also helped that she could literally feel the joy her moon bunny outfit got when she was called upon to support her in even the simplest of tasks; they were partners, and she’d never felt that way about anyone before.
Whatever comes, she whispered, showing a genuine smile, I’m glad you’re here, Lt. Bun.
Nia snorted and returned to grin. “Hell or high water, Capt. Hops; we’re in it together. I’ll keep an ear out, so you can focus on the dinner.”
Giving her a casual, two-fingered salute, the bunny returned it, fixing their hair into the proper, contrasting bun that Rachel could never have done. It was time to go to war.
Their trip to the restaurant was faster than she anticipated, and her three-inch heels met a red carpet as she exited the vehicle; a small group of photographers were outside, snapping pictures to sell to gossip sites as the cold wind pressed their skirts against their legs. Several A-lister celebrities had made an appearance for the opening of the high-class establishment.
It felt somewhat uncomfortable to have so many cameras on her, but this was the life of anyone in the political scene, and she had to get used to it if she wanted to reach anyone who had influence.
She did her best to remain neutral, Nia walking beside her as she proceeded down the carpet for a pair of doormen to greet her. However, just before they swung them open, she paused with a half-smile and turned to see Arthur and Tom exiting the SUV behind them.
Tom wore his full military uniform, complete with a rainbow of medals and his four stars pinned to his shoulders, while Arthur had his fitted, slim-cut suit that showed off his frame. No women were with them as they approached, the photographers whipping into a buzz when they met.
“Rachel,” the handsome blond greeted with a showy smile and posh British accent, “what excellent timing.”
Chuckling, she returned his nod as the doormen opened their way. “Arthur, Tom. Did you two invite the French delegation?”
“No…” The general frowned as the woman standing inside ticked something off on her tablet before offering a charming welcome, the clash of silverware and chatter of restaurant patrons coming into focus.
“Mr. Pendragon, Mr. Dallas, your seats are ready.”
Rachel couldn’t catch a shift in demeanor from the Legend at the revelation; she’d expected at least a word of acknowledgment, but perhaps that would come soon enough as they were guided to their third-level tables that overlooked a rose garden.
Sitting at the table nearest to them were two fashionable figures, dressed for the occasion. Their seater stopped as they lagged at the table, spotting wine already in the pair’s glasses, showing they’d been there for a short time.
Jeanne was radiant with her sparkly blonde hair, thicker than the woman’s bicep and drawn back into a simple knot braid that hung over the back of her chair, the black ribbon at the end nearly touching the floor.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The woman’s headband matched her simple, knee-length dress, being chiffon blue, and the gown was a button-up down style with a matching waistband. The Legend’s lilac purple cardigan was held by her shoulders, and a tan and dark brown purse showed her taste in elegant and plain attire.
On the other hand, Charlemagne was in more of a modern classic style, wearing a light-brown suit jacket with a cyan shirt that hosted brown buttons. His coffee slacks matched his expensive watch, and his ruffled dark hair went well with his deceptively soft smile; Rachel could see him fitting in well with royalty. Historically, he was supposed to have blond hair, though, which she guessed shed further light on Barbara’s theory about pop culture and history mixing.
“What a pleasant surprise, Ambassador,” Arthur greeted. “How did you manage to foresee I would move the time up an hour and choose this restaurant? And, Jeanne, you look radiant in blue.”
The legendary European emperor offered a cordial smile as he held out his hand, his French accent coming through. “Arthur, I debated crashing this dinner or your breakfast tomorrow at the Continental, yet this serves to be far more interesting of a conversation. Relica isn’t the type of company I enjoy keeping, in any case.”
Rachel caught Nia’s narrow-eyed stare as Jeanne forced a pained smile; it seemed the priestess wouldn’t be joining them. Things had taken a turn, yet misfortune was curving within this meeting, and if she acted out, it could turn out badly for all of them.
Doing her best not to let the sour topic tie a rope around her throat, as it had done to a particular Lesser God, she held out a hand to guide the surprised blonde saint to her feet, saying, “Let’s not beat around the bush. We could go back and forth, tossing out darts and comparing sizes, but I have places to be tonight. Join us.”
“Well, I do enjoy the cadence already,” Jeanne chimed, pulling off her cardigan to fold over her arm while picking up her purse by the strap. “I’ve really wanted to have a proper conversation with you, Rachel, but France has kept us… busy.”
“I’ve heard,” she returned, forcing herself not to resist as the woman suddenly hugged her with a cheery, positive, and welcoming atmosphere that caught her off-guard, her hot lips meeting either side of her cheeks. “Wow, you just—you French really are something.”
“Is it too much?” she asked, accent thickening and grabbing her elbow as Nia watched her like a hawk. “I’ve so looked forward to this meeting I got carried away; I haven’t been outside of France long, and I sometimes forget you Americans can be quite, eh, distant?” she asked, looking for the right word. “Haha. Cold seems too harsh a word.”
Not sensing the slightest shy twitch in Jeanne’s muscles as she pulled away, giving her space, Rachel refrained from scratching her tingling cheek. “Honestly, that’s the first kiss on the cheek I’ve gotten, excluding family. Let’s try to keep it to handshakes.”
“Understood,” she said with an authentic and accepting smile. “My apologies; I grew up in a very open household that enjoyed the sharing of one’s emotions. Anyway, please, tell me how you are doing. I hear your recovery has been progressing smoothly, and the Miami reports have shown how truly heroic you were.”
“Ahem.” They turned their attention to Arthur as they sat at their table, their server scooting the other table closer to bridge them and not acting as if anything was out of the ordinary, raising some red flags. “As Rachel said, let’s cut with some of the pleasantries. Merlin prepared this for us to talk without the worry of being overheard…”
He reached out to flip a rather large hourglass on the table, causing the black sand inside to fall, before nodding at their hostess, showing she was one of Merlin’s spies. The second it flipped a pulse of mystical energy shot out, creating a rippling effect in a five-meter diameter.
“We have thirty minutes to discuss things; Rayla here is an associate of Merlin who has infiltrated this establishment. She is the only one that can come and go from this barrier.” He sat back as Rayla started taking Tom and Charlemagne’s drink orders, his gaze fixated on her.
“Galahad nearly died this week, Rachel; Lancelot and I were able to complete a quest to obtain an elixir that has bought us more time, but your Hell Force is far more potent than we anticipated. Can you stop the corruption from spreading?”
Jeanne folded her fingers in her lap, going silent as she listened, with Tom and the dark-haired man browsing their menu without looking up. Nia joined them, but her ears were high, showing how alert she was for the slightest twitch of danger, letting her handle the talking.
Maintaining a lax demeanor, Rachel opened her own booklet of options, taking the time to consider her response. Jeanne and Charlemagne were Saints, yet both were also war legends who were quite brilliant, which meant they had a more realistic view of conflict.
Jeanne d’Arc had a rather short-lived life, yet from what she’d studied of her history in the past several days, this woman was bound to be quite frank in her beliefs and feelings. There was also mention of a prophecy, historically attributed to Merlin, that could be related to her saving France. She could be in contact with the archangel Michael or with the Legends of Saint Margaret or Catherine.
As she’d read online, Emperor Charlemagne was one of the most influential and prolific leaders in history, having almost never lost a war and kickstarted the Carolingian Renaissance in Europe, showing his highly cultured and military mind. The man’s very name was synonymous with what many nations modeled their word ‘king’ after, cementing his greatness along the same lines as Caesar. Arthur was a far more obscure Legend, who she couldn’t predict. Still, she had to maintain a hard stance.
“First,” she said, pointing at the water option on the menu to their server, “I would like to preface this topic with the understanding that I have no ill will toward Galahad. He was doing his job. Props to him for surviving an attack meant to kill. Merlin is the one whom I have some disdain for robbing me of Relica… who tried to assassinate me as a child, emotionally scarred my mother for life, and murdered my cousin… and she boasted about it.”
The blonde woman hummed, taking a sip of her previous wine glass while showing a grimace. “That does put things into perspective. Vengeance is understandable, though I prefer a just trial and proper sentencing, be that death or another punishment. That being said, I am not one to judge how you choose to present yourself before God’s throne. Right or wrong, we all make our choices.”
Tom chuckled. “Not a topic to laugh at,” he added, “but that is far more liberal of a take than I would have thought from you as a saint, Jeanne.”
Charlemagne rubbed his chin, intelligent brown eyes drifting between them. “So, in your blind rage at the time, congruent with your channeling of Negative Energy, you acted on impulse. I doubt that you can stop whatever curse Hell’s flames left on the young man… unless you absorb that power into your spirit again, which seems unlikely, given your current state. Although… there is the idea of a transfusion.”
“A what?” Rachel’s eyebrows drew together, Arthur following her gaze to the calm Legend’s spontaneous inclusion. “You want me to give him a transfusion? My blood is entirely different than a normal person’s. As a side note, it even tastes like mint.”
Jeanne cleared her throat and shook her head, braid bobbing against her chair. “While that is a fascinating detail, there is more to it than that. Perhaps your blood could be toxic to him on its own, yet there is a Divine Energy emanating from you that is impossible to miss for Legends like us,” she stated, crossing her legs and shifting to get a better angle to talk to her.
“Charlemagne and I have been doing many of our Quests together to better understand certain principles, and Michael answered my prayers in a dream… We know you have the Goddess Nike within you, which is how you survived the energies of Hell.”
“Nike?” Arthur mumbled, his vision sliding to Tom, who let out a low sigh. “So that is one of the secrets you’ve been keeping… The Greek goddess of victory is literally inside you? It all fits now. Charlemagne, are you saying the Greek concept of Ichor is true, and that Rachel literally has the blood of gods inside her right now?”
The liquid in Rachel’s mouth dried up as misfortune spun in circles now that she had that information, and one thought shot to the surface. However, Charlemagne showed his forethought and intelligence network as he voiced the connection she’d made aloud for all to hear, making her gut tighten.
Sitting comfortably in his chair, the man sipped his wine, gazing into the crimson liquor. “It is very faint. However, the potency of it goes beyond words; drinking straight from the source could be equated to drinking from the Holy Grail… Something I would caution any mortal to refrain from since they couldn’t hope to process such divinity… without a filter, that is.
“This method could work to sustain Galahad, buying more time, or…” He paused, meeting Rachel’s glare. “…Or it could also help Anthony’s fiancé Amelia to the point of running and walking again… at least for a time.”
This man was far, far too perceptive and knowledgeable, yet that was a part of his legend, being one of the greatest kings in history.
“There’s a catch,” Rachel growled. “What aren’t you telling us… Why are you telling us this without requesting anything in return? This is all too convenient.”
Jeanne played with her empty glass on the table, showing a sad smile. “Because it is the right thing to do and a condition I gave to Saint Charlemagne for delivering the good tidings the archangel gave me. He likely wouldn’t have shared it if I hadn’t insisted.”
Her vibrant blue eyes sparkled with sincerity as she shifted to press her hands against her thighs, giving nothing but positive vibes. “I misjudged you, Rachel, and for that, I apologize and ask your forgiveness. I understand you are no saint, but you are also no devil. Good deeds are rewarded, and I would like to foster goodwill between us.”
Arm rising to press her fingers against her breast, she said, “I do have a request that you may deny if you so choose. I would like to help in the recovery of Nike, and I have the Positive Energy that can be used to stabilize what your mother has started. She has quite the skillful hand to have done what she has already.”
“Again,” Rachel growled, trying to fight past her suspicious nature and pride to overcome these challenges herself, “why would you help me when I have no intention of reciprocating? Are you hoping to get something out of Nike? I know you’re Saints, but I’m no sucker. You want goodwill between us… for what? No games.”
Smile becoming forced, the pretty blonde shook her head. “I’m not saying I’m trying to do this for nothing! I want to be totally transparent—well, as much as I can be,” she mumbled, clearly not happy with something that passed between Charlemagne and her meeting eyes. “Michael told me that you would be a critical piece in protecting my home in the future and that the Wings of Victory are needed.”
Tom leaned forward, having quietly listened until now. “Needed for what? We’re allied with France, so a big enough attack against the EU would pull in the US. Do we have specifics?”
“No,” Charlemagne whispered, pouring his own glass of wine before swirling it in a circle. “What I can tell you is what you three already know… a bigger picture is being painted behind the scenes, and the Scarlet Hand has its fingers in it. The organization has become fractured by Rachel’s unconscious actions, though, which is a feat worth noting,” he said, raising his cup to her.
“That being said, I have friends… rivals, even, in other countries who have access to knowledge in areas none of us are privy to…” His glowing brown eyes darted to the general. “…Which is how I know the Montana Crystal will be a massive catastrophe if it is left unchecked. It will open in two days’ time, and you’ll need to call in every countermeasure you’ve been contemplating, including Fable.”
“Fable?” Rachel asked, recalling something Astra had said but wanting confirmation as to how it was relevant, she pressed the topic; the emperor was bringing more pieces to the table. “If you want transparency, then you’re going to have to give us more than that.”
“Agreed,” Tom said with a sad chuckle, “but I’ve learned that Charlemagne isn’t here for transparency, Rachel. Jeanne is, and it is there that the two butt heads at times… it’s probably why he brought her since she can build connections he cannot.”
The blonde woman crossed her legs and folded her arms. “Humph. That is most likely the case and something I have some issues with myself. But this isn’t a topic that needs to be rehashed. We both have our own views on things. Yes, I agree with Charlemagne that he does see a bigger picture, but that doesn’t change my position on what I think is right. A difference in approach does not mean we are opposed. My offer remains, Rachel.”
Leaning back, Rachel’s focus swapped to the general. “…To make this brief, I’m willing to help Arthur if it gets us closer to Ireland and negotiating to get to the World Tree.
“As for Charlemagne’s prediction on the Crystal, if it is correct, I don’t think I’ll be ready in two days to fly to Montana and fight. So, calling in your other teams that I know you’ve been gathering might be good. Maybe I will be ready in three to four days, but I want to be sure of it by doing a Quest with Anthony and Barbara, whoever’s turn it is. Thoughts?”
Tom looked at Arthur, fingers intertwined and deep in thought at everything the pair had added to the discussion. He sighed and rubbed between his eyes.
“Hopefully, Montana will be handled by the time you are ready, but if not, then you’re in reserve. Why would the Crystal open on the day Congress and the Senate are supposed to debate about this private military option… None of this can be a coincidence. Dammit. I feel like we’re dancing to someone’s tune.”
Charlemagne chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he said at everyone’s stare. “I’m just thinking about some ‘Black’ humor, General. I’m sure you get the irony to your statement.”
The bald military man snorted and ran his hand over his head. “Black… Fable… You’re far more informed than you first let on, Ambassador. As for your question, Rachel, Fable is an already established PMC, like Blackwater or the UK’s G4S, only far less publicized; they like to keep a low profile, and… shockingly, many operatives they had changed during The Oscillation. It’s being investigated.” He leveled a suspicious look at the dark-haired Frenchman. “You wouldn’t happen to have more to add to that conversation?”
Sipping his wine, the man shook his head. “I believe we know roughly the same on that topic, General. Mmm. Perhaps there are Scarlet Hand ties there, but it is distant if it is the case. That being said, I can’t leave Jeanne here for more than a few more days before we return to France; we’re in the calm before the storm. How much longer until the UK and Ireland are at war, Arthur?”
Rachel almost choked on her water, and Nia was the one to speak out.
“What?! War? Fiona is worried enough about her family in Ireland!” the bunny growled, ears bowing. “Is that why she can’t get in contact with them?”
Arthur ran his fingers through his blond locks. “I’d like to know where you’re getting your intelligence from… if you’ve made the sure conclusion that war is imminent. We can’t get information in or out; it’s radio silence inside, and an invisible barrier has surrounded the entire country, transporting people and anything else that comes into contact with it, to a random location around its borders.”
“A country-wide Crystal?” Rachel asked.
“No,” the king instantly responded. “It doesn’t have the dome or colors. No, this is something else that Merlin says is magical in nature… and powerful. He compared it to the likes of the World Tree in London. We can’t be sure what is happening on the inside, but after the Montana incident is concluded, the President has agreed to offer the US’s support in the matter.”
Hands meeting in her lap, Rachel slowly nodded. “That… does align with my promise to help Fiona reach her family… but I can’t tell her that, or it may spark her to panic and try to fly there herself, which… may actually be possible for her. Ugh,” she caught Jeanne’s look of disapproval, yet she didn’t voice it.
“In any case, this is all good to know, but I need to focus my mind on the immediate. And, Jeanne, I will tell Fiona enough,” she said, surprising herself at the declaration; it could have been Lunar Pride flipping on her since she would beat the tar out of someone who kept that kind of info from her if the roles were reversed.
The blonde’s tight features softened. “I am enjoying our company together already. What about the Ichor? I will need to sustain its properties during the transfer, and I may also require your unicorn friend to help me.”
“Sure,” Rachel shrugged. “I mean, if you include the healing of Nike, it’s actually more favoring me… but only if you repeat all of this and can convince Maria.” The unicorn would be able to tell if there were any lies hidden amongst the information. “So… does this mean we all have somewhat of an alliance?”
Arthur glanced at the falling sands, half gone inside the hourglass. “There are other things I wish to discuss… holes I want to be filled, such your interest in our World Tree, but you’ve already proven yourself a target and great adversary against the Scarlet Hand.”
He gestured to the Frenchman across from him. “As Charlemagne said, you… somehow unconsciously caused a huge breach in the organization that left Merlin baffled since he’s tried to penetrate the group without much success for quite some time. I don’t see why we shouldn’t help each other in dismantling it. Friends with secrets,” he said, extending his arm across the table.
Rachel grinned and shook his hand. “To the misfortune of our enemies; I think we’ve found some common ground. Now, what should I eat on the UK taxpayer’s dime?” she asked with a dark chuckle, not wanting to pass up the opportunity to live a little more lavishly as she studied the quite expensive menu. “There are so many options to choose from.”
A frown creased her lips as a jabbing string of misfortune struck her. “…Nia, do not order the clams. For some reason, the entire place might blow up if you do.”
“A little extreme,” Jeanne chortled. “I suppose I will stay away from them as well. Does this mean that I am free to join you for the next day or two?”
Rachel scratched her left ear and set down her menu with a heavy sigh. “I’ll need to get Scarlet’s permission, but I don’t think it will be that hard. Welcome to Omen, well… temporarily.”
Nia chuckled, returning to the menu. “And if the organization actually existed.”
The blonde showed a radiant smile. “Thanks for having me.”
Rachel’s guard spiked as Nia’s face suddenly went white upon flipping the page, catching all of their attention. “What is it?” she asked, scooting over to see what was written on the leather booklet with Jeanne.
Nia gulped and pointed at the menu. “Captain… why is there a dish named Rabbit Foot Stew? Don’t tell me they actually… eat rabbits?!”
“Pfft! Hahaha!” Rachel doubled over at her outfit’s serious and searching eyes. “Yes, Nia! Yes, we eat rabbits!”
“…Savages… I’ve lost my appetite,” she mumbled with an audible sniff, closing the book. “Would you just chop off… Never mind…”
Smiles came from the others at the lighter topic; well, at least to them. Rachel figured she was about to ask if they’d chop off Moongmor or Mei’s feet for a stew. Her outfit had a lot to learn about their world still.