A Play On History (Closed)

[Viola Conda]

((Closed to those I invited))

Viola paced in her office as she looked at the reports in her hand, the soft paper rubbing against her skin and making a creaking noise. She looked to charts and diagrams, as well as numbers, crunching several in her head as she processed information and stacked it in her mind with previous notifications and events that pertained to her current thought process. She closed her eyes, mentally checked a few numbers and looked to the paper again. She flicked the black hair out of her eye, mentally chastising herself for not putting it into a pony tail like she usually did, and rechecked the numbers. The paper did not lie, but she was pleased to note her first guess was grossly wrong.

With a sigh she tossed the papers onto her hard wood desk, a mighty centerpiece to her office as she rested her hip against the lacquered oak imported from Concordia Forest. She looked down to her paperwork scattered throughout the large surface, and pulled up a few and wrote using her fountain pen a few lines and numbers, before coming up with one forgone conclusion.

As the Active Chief Counselor of Emprea and the woman who controlled the mighty arms of the nation’s military, she felt it was her duty to ensure that it was fully stocked, fully funded, and fully equipped. The nation had been nicely located near the edge of a mountain range that was very rich in deposits of minerals and metals mostly sought out for by other nations all around the world. This meant that the treasury could budget a generous portion to the people, the kingdom, and to the army. With full funding, Viola had felt that it was her duty to actually take into her own hands to remedy the one thing she could influence.

Recruitment.

And, according to her numbers, it was at an all time low. This concerned her, considering that the nation of Carthage had been breathing down the smaller nation’s neck for several years now. It was all Chancellor Freya could do to keep the Bloodstained Kingdom from marching, and Viola wanted to ensure her army was at peak performance and on call. She was afraid the army would invade at any moment, but thankfully the winter season came much swifter than this area of Althanas was used to, and so while the conditions were favorable for peace time, Viola wanted to take advantage to show their blood lust neighbors that if they did intend to march, it was against an army anyone would be proud to lead.

Of course, Viola constantly had to remind herself this was all a worst case scenario. Carthage had shown a miraculous breakthrough in negotiations when they agreed to a diplomatic trade of minerals and wealth in exchange for war horses. If they could be reasoned with, and better yet, an ally to the Emprean nation, than a new age of prosperity would swiftly take Emprea.

“As if,” Viola muttered loudly to nobody but her herself. The woman let her hands wrap around her chest just under breasts, looking to the door of her room. She was expecting people any moment, and was looking forward to it. Her monthly staff meeting was fast approaching, where she would talk with people she could count on. Those people were the Heroes of Emprea, a group of close comrades and friends who personified the tenants of Emprea’s martial discipline. Each one was a facet of their own, a powerful warrior who many had looked up to. In the trials to come, they would the pillars of stability to see the people of the nation she loved through.

There was a soft rap of knuckles upon her portal, before it creaked open and the sound of heeled boots clicked upon the stone floor before they were muffled by the luxurious Fallien carpet imported by the last Chief Counselor of Emprea. It was sort of a tradition, Viola had guessed looking over to her chair and desk. Everything in the office was very personable to the current Active Chief counselor, as each one had only ever used the wealth of Emprea for personal flair for a single purchase.

Moving behind her desk Viola loving touched the leather revolving chair she had masterworked in Corone when she was first imported. A comfortable chair was a luxury she allowed herself, since she spent so many hours sitting in this office. Her eyes softly looked to the intruder in her room, her lips pursing into a smile as Viola gave the newcomer a favored nod.

“Hello, Commander,” A timid voice spoke. “As you have requested, I made sure to get seven hundred of these fliers ready to be distributed by carriers at the end of the day. Now, as your personal adjutant and more importantly your best friend I’d like to know exactly what the hell is going on.” Viola let out a silent breath of mirth, a whimsical look on her face as she leaned back in her chair, feeling the padding move to comfort her aching bones.

Natalie Boros, Captain ranked, and personal Secretary to the Chief Counselor of Emprea was perhaps the only friend Viola admitted to having. She was a fiery red head, and naturally beautiful and was oft talked about in the hallways of the castle. In public, she was a very reserved model example of a dedicated officer. In private, she was just as prone to squealing in a high pitched voice and giggling about boys. Her latest infatuation, resident pretty boy David King, was one of the few boyfriends that had stayed in a long while. It probably helped David was also a Hero of Emprea, and Captain of the Royal Guard.

“I said,” Natalie spoke a bit louder, her eyebrows raising as she bent over to slam the sheet of paper on Viola’s desk. “Why am I making fliers to promote the Tantalum Troupe performing at this year’s winter ball? I mean, don’t get me wrong,” She said haphazardly, lifting herself up quickly as she paced around the front of Viola’s desk like a private detective, complete with stroking chin. “They are a world reknown hit for their several productions in Scara Brae, not to mention their airship is a traveling theatre.”

“Was,” Viola cut her off, her tone neutral as she looked to the flier and nodded, starting to file one into the six folders on her desk along with other stacks of papers for the meeting. “I do not think it flies anymore. But I could be wrong.”

“That didn’t answer my question!” Natalie moved towards Viola, eyes filled with curiosity. “Tell me!” Viola lifted a hand to her friends face, putting it on her forehead, and shoving her back as she stood, grabbing the stack of folders.

“It is nothing hard to contemplate. I called upon the Tantalum to perform in Emprea to help boost recruitment. I’ll explain it later in the meeting, come before we are late.” Natalie looked to her in confusion, before shrugging her shoulders and nodding.

“As you wish, Commander.”

[Duffy]

“Well…” Duffy sighed. “This is turning out to be a logistical nightmare.” The sigh turned into a long series of grumbles.

He let himself sway in the motion of the carriage as it trundled down a long and narrow drive. It was dark, except the light of a full moon, and the trees either side of the narrow advance encroached overhead. The bard could not help but notice the road was not getting smoother. The curtains, though drawn, flapped open with each trundle. Every few seconds the light caressing his pallid skin failed.

Ruby watched the bard come undone on the opposite seat, quite amused with her tolerance for watching him squirm.

“I must admit, it’s certainly grander in scale than anything we’ve done before.”

He glared at her through the broadsheet pages of the Salvar Herald. Behind her paper shield, Duffy could see her grinning.

“That’s wonderfully encouraging of you Ruby. Thank you kindly.” His sarcasm could have shredded the paper to rags.

Here and there, ancient books and scrolls of stage directions lay sprawled on the carriage’s seat, floor, and walls. It served as a makeshift writing room for their speedy, flustered preparations.

Three weeks ago, the master of the Ixian Knights approached them with a request. Sei Orlouge called on them to turn to travelling theatre. A distant kingdom called Emprea required ‘a bunch of bards’ to put on a play. Given Sei had housed the troupe on their exodus from their home, Duffy could not say no. After spending time attempting to put all the names into cameos and minor roles, he was starting to wish that he had turned the request down.

“I just don’t know what to do with everyone.” Under normal circumstances, Duffy would have thrown something together, but Sei had insisted it be revolutionary.

“You heard what Sei said, didn’t you?” She folded the top of the newspaper forwards, revealing a tied back mass of grey hair that was half in rollers. She was a glamorous woman, and intended to step out of the carriage looking as glamorous as she had when she climbed into it. She would do so at any cost. Duffy rested the scroll of names on his lap and cocked his head.

“It’s important the cast feels involved. It’s important the public see their military leaders in ridiculous frocks.” He curled his lip in a half-formed smile at the paraphrasing.

“Yes, though I think Sei might’ve been joking about the frocks. Men with moustaches should steer well away from pleated cotton.” She disappeared into the gossip columns again with a flick of her wrists and a rustle.

“I guess if it’s to drive recruitment for the military, to save the country, then we can work something out.” He did not sound certain of himself.

The carriage continued to trundle north through a strange and unfamiliar landscape. With every jolt, Duffy’s ability to ignore the pain in his right lower leg weakened. If they did not arrive soon, he would have to resort to a shot of bourbon to numb the agony so that he could concentrate. Biting his lip, he continued to memorise the list of the Empyrean hierarchy. Ruby continued to the paper, apparently blasé about her impending performance before foreign dignitaries.

When they arrived at their destination, they would have one night’s rest before they began rehearsals. Putting everyone on list into the play was the first obstacle to overcome. Getting everyone to remember his or her lines without theatrical training was the second.

“Pray Tantalus guide me,” he sighed.

[Sagequeen]

It was failure, plainly and simply, spelled out in the stark contrast of black and white, at the hands of the Ixian Knights, and not just failure, but a huge, black splotch of embarrassment for the otherwise dignified and successful group. Erissa Caedron, Ixian Knight, shuffled in disbelief through the sheaths of paper that bore the historical account; there was no sugar coating on the briefing given her by Sei.

Her silver hair glistened where the light of midday sliced through the cramped carriage; the high elf huddled in a corner. Her head pounded from the incessant and empty chatter of her travel-mates, all bards taken on by one Duffy Bracken, the Ixian general to whom she was currently assigned in an effort to familiarize her with the leadership of the Knights.

Perhaps you will succeed where others have failed,' Sei had said to her in his eerie, soundless speech, but the arcanist did not see how she could smooth over something like the slaughter of Empreans by the Knights, even if it were a set-up by the 'Blood-stained Kingdom' of Carthage, sworn enemies and attempted usurpers of the rich Emprean lands. Distrust brewed in that land, as bitter and strong as the grinds in the cold coffee Erissa choked down as she read. No doubt the high elf was a skilled diplomat and a solver of problems, but how she might succeed where the likes of such Knights who had failed before escaped her.

Still, Erissa knew she had to try; an alliance with Emprea would be a windfall for the Ixian Knights in the form of rare and precious metals, and a blessing for Emprea to gain the protection of the Knights against a kingdom that would see them slaughtered and pillaged.

“Don't study too 'ard, love,” said the pretty, blond woman nearest her. “Ye'll make the rest of us look bad. How'd ya' manage to get your script already?” The woman leaned in, trying to steal a peek; surprised, Erissa hugged the papers to her chest, mouth forming soundless words like a fish out of water. “Well be that way, then!” The woman leaned back against the worn cushions, whose once-plush velvet was now threadbare from the many posteriors that had rested up it. From behind crossed arms and a smiling mask veiling contempt the woman regarded Erissa, wondering how the high elf had landed the role of the demon. She pursed her lips and assumed it was the same way she had landed her last gig, a little behind-the-scenes action with the casting director, although this Troupe's leader had not given her the time of day, much less an advance script.

Erissa's attention was elsewhere, however, and the blond woman soon began chattering with the carriage's other passengers, hushed whispers behind screening hands. The carriage was jarred as it hit a pothole, and the women whooped and cackled.

This is going to be a long ride, Erissa though as she blotted away the cold coffee that had been sloshed onto her sage-colored dress, a beautiful silken material with golden floral embroidery, painstakingly crafted by the high elf, a master tailor. Perturbed, she nibbled at a scone as she continued reading, the lines of worry so deep on her face they might have been etched there permanently.

Aside from the impossible diplomatic mission to which she had been assigned, Erissa had another problem to tackle.




Stage fright.

[Viola Conda]

Viola looked towards the room that she reserved when it was time for her monthly meeting with the Heroes of Emprea. She liked this room because it was secluded enough from the main grounds that the sound did not carry, and it had a wide view of the Emprean castle where she could look. The round table inside was big enough that the seven chairs in the room would fit the heroes, and that would be all. It was not a large room by any stretch, but that’s why Viola liked it.

She went through a mental checklist of those who would be participating in this month’s meeting. Rachel Lenoa, her Captain of the Archers and Ranged divisions was in the middle of training exercises, and she would need to be briefed later. Viola had no problems with that as easily her soon to be husband, Jonothan Andrews was attending the meeting representing the House Knights.

The Captian of the Royal Guard was going to be there as well, which always put Natalie into a happy mood. She casually glanced to see the awkward grin forming, her steps hastening as she moved faster through the narrow corridor. Viola shook her head lightly as she laughed softly, smiling herself. On one hand Natalie was being rather childish for an Officer of Emprea, but she couldn’t exactly blame her.

Without knowing it her face flushed softly as she fondly thought about the last member to join them for the meeting today. Paul Donovan, the Captain of the Line, and Wolf Lord of Emprea’s berserker units, was sort of an enigma to the Active Chief Counselor. Everything Paul represented was the passionate fury of Emprea’s mighty heroes. He was a brute, and fought like a tyrant on the battle field, but he had a certain reserve to him that Viola found interesting. Though completely hot headed and prone to anger, his wolves he leads as well as himself have been the most loyal of her soldiers.

That, and Viola knew deep down her feelings for Paul were unbecoming an officer of her stature. She had admitted a year ago that the man was growing on her, and she felt genuine feelings for him, but Duty to her country overcame those personal desires. She could not be with Donovan, no matter how much she wanted. So instead, she sat in her own world, watching him from afar and doing her best not to think of him in her free time.

“Thinking about Paul again?” Natalie whispered loudly, in a teasing fashion. Viola’s face turned beet red as she looked to her companion.

“Captain Boros!” Viola nearly shouted. “How many more times must I order you to shut up about that?” Natalie giggled as she leaned back, her face just next to Viola’s ear.

“Maybe when you stop getting glossy eyed and red in the face everytime you see him.” Viola forcefully pushed her away. “Oh, come on! You two have been playing lost puppies for over a year now! When he decked Fulgrim at the previous winter ball-“

“He proved how incapable he is of holding his temper in check.” Viola flatly said.

“I was gonna say proved how much you mean to him. Fulgrim was insulting you.” Viola lifted her nose in a snotty manner.

“The words of idiots do not affect me,” Viola said with pride. “I am Active Chief Counselor of Emprea. More laurels rest on my head than any other, and I refuse to let the envy of others bring me down.” Natalie nodded to her solemnly, before giggling out one last comeback, darting into the meeting room.

“If so, then why did you swoon when he decked him?” Viola wanted to retort, but sighed in frustration entering the room. As expected, the three others were in the room and she shut the door, lowering the folders so each took one.

“I will make this meeting brief.” Viola sat in the head chair, adjusting herself on the wood with irritation before placing her fingers just under her chin and resting on them. “Last meeting I had asked of you all to work hard on recruitment. Unfortunately, our current standing army is only forty two percent of where I want it. Brian, Master of the Assassin’s, is currently in Carthage doing another Census sweep of the enemy numbers should we go to war.”

Jonothan, the Lord of the House Knights, studied the paper before he lowered it and pulled out the quill in the pot centered on the table. The sound of soft scratching filled the air as Jensen wrote while David King thumbed through the folder, his own eyes looking to the numbers. Viola repressed the urge to laugh as Paul gave the folder a quick look, and then closed it. Jonothan looked up and addressed the room in a commanding tone. “If my numbers are right, we are sitting at a two to one disadvantage numerically. Even with our extensive training, that’s putting a lot of faith that Carthage doesn’t train.”

“Right, the Bloodstained Kingdom doesn’t train,” David mocked as he lowered his eyes to the folder. “This census is pretty recent, so at least it won’t be getting any larger.” Paul looked at the folder again, gave it another try, before sighing loudly and shoving the thing aside.

“I don’t get how you guys came up with those numbers, but I’ll smash as many of them down to size as you need,” Paul joked. The room chuckled as Natalie lowered herself next to Dave, whispering something in his ear as both of them grinned. The red head took a seat next to him, and then pulled her own folder to her.

“Well recruitment drives have hit a wall. So if we do not take advantage of the winter, we’ll be hard pressed to fight the enemy should war come. Delegations with Carthage have been very on edge, but at least Chancellor Freya has managed to stall us into next spring. We are arranging another trade package to see if we can buy time or seal an alliance. But let’s be honest,” Natalie said weakly.

“They won’t wait much longer to invade. So that means I need each one of you to prepare for the final last desperate act. Remember our erstwhile friends in the Ixian Knights?” The room nodded as Viola pulled the flier out. “As we know, they had sent a diplomatic team to Carthage, and that team, to prove they could fight as hard as Carthage or whatever else they thought they were doing, managed to kill several good Emprean soldiers. Regardless of the fact it was a Carthage set up, they willing went full out to support the Bloodstained Kingdom. Without knowing where their loyalties will really lie, I could not in good conscious seal an alliance with Sei Orlouge.”

Viola stood and turned to a small table where she pulled out a glass and poured water from the pitcher resting next to it. She looked outside to the sunny sky and sighed, taking a sip before turning back to her audience. “So in short, Sei owes us a big favor for the mess up. I have arranged for one of his General’s, a Duffy Bracken, to bring his Tantalum Troupe to Emprea. They will perform a show at our Winter Ball this year hosted by our King Horus. In exchange for funding the Tantalum to come to us, and making sure we have ample time to get arrangements fulfilled, I have agreed to give him one more chance to secure an alliance with us. I will meet with his delegation representative to barter a trade negotiation.”

“Wow!” Paul said looking to the flier as he lowered it, a wide grin on his face. “I heard of these guys! They use real magic and actually battle each other on stage to make the shows more believable! They have great quality productions too, on par with Zidane Cecil! Oh man, how cool!” Viola shot a raised eyebrow at her Captain of the Front Line, but shook her head smiling, sitting next to him.

“Well, yes, they are known for that, but I have a better surprise for all of us.” Viola took the rest of the water and drank it. “My last condition to Sei was to arrange a play based on the founding of Emprea. I want to use this play to drive recruitment up. Now, while I am confident that the play alone will swell our ranks with prideful soldiers, I wish to leave nothing to chance. So to ensure we get a huge turnout I included in the stipulation that we, the Heroes of Emprea that everyone looks so much up to, have a role in the play as the original heroes that battled the Demon General Raziael.”

There was a stunned silence before the Captain of the Royal Guard let out a boisterous laugh. “Us, on theatre? Are you sure the people can handle my charisma on a stage?” David passed a hand through his hair in a showy way as the room laughed to his joke. Jonothan nodded to the idea looking over the folder.

“I think that’s actually a pretty good idea.”

“I think that’s a great idea! Holy sweet Thaynes, I get to meet and perform with Ruby La Roux! She even puts Natalie to shame in the looks!” Paul looked to the flier at the women of the Tantalum Troupe. Viola gave him a dirty glare, Natalie gave him a snarl, and David chuckled.

“Now see Paul, you say things like that in front of my girl and I have no choice but to kick your ass,” David stood holding Natalie’s hand. “Fear not maiden, I shall save your honor from this brutish boar! Have at thee!” David lowered his quill like a sword as Paul lifted his. Viola knew better than to chastise her warriors. It was, after all, this sort of camaraderie that made them so effective in the first place. Viola shut her folder.

“Dismissed, and be ready. Once Duffy Bracken arrives, we will all focus our energy there. Assign temporary leaders in your absence.” They all exited the room slowly, Paul stopping to look at the flier one last time before looking to Viola. Viola picked up the last of the folders as she thought to herself about what he said, looking to the picture of Ruby.

“Um,” Paul looked around to see if anybody was in ear shot. His voice grew very tiny as he spoke, his face turning a gentle shade of red. “Permission to speak freely, mam?” Viola looked back to him, and nodded softly. “Ruby’s got nothing on you, mam.” Viola had to turn her face to make sure Donovan didn’t see her blush.

“Dismissed, captain,” Viola said softly back to him.

[Duffy]

It took Duffy a long time to put the many pieces of the puzzle together. When he finally did, he let out a small whelp of excitement that Ruby had come to recognise as worthy of her immediate attention. She had to catch him in that moment of clarity before his mind became preoccupied with something else. Lately, that had been a matter of minutes.

“Has it started to come together?”

She folded the newspaper with dextrous and affirmative hands, well versed in tidying away bed linen and tea towels day in, day out. The paper offered no resistance, and found itself perfectly pleated and left for the next occupant of the carriage to read in a few seconds. She rested it on the red satin cushions of the plush velveteen décor.

Duffy nodded enthusiastically. He held out the closing scene for his muse to inspect. She leant forwards and whipped it from his hands. As she brought it close to give it the once over, she made a show of peering down the cartilage of her nose and clearing her throat. Duffy could only slump back into the bench and twiddle his thumbs.

As Ruby scanned the climactic dialogue, the sour expression on her face slowly turned into a smile. She was pleased he had found a role for everyone in Emprea’s vast annul of history. At the very least, they could hope now to cover the costs of the play. She had never had to cough up enough gold up front for posters before. She had especially not wanted to pay for ones that painted her in a less than favourable light. Her unflattering, inky likeness was all over the kingdom.

“This is actually pretty special.” Her tone was encouraging, which made Duffy wrinkle his nose. He expected a long serious of overly critical put downs, not ambivalent agreement.

“Go on, you can be brutal,” he said with a wounded smile.

“I could, by all means,” she looked. “I meant what I said. Demons are not the most charismatic creations to work with.” She dropped her gaze paper and ran her finger along the closing narrative. She mumbled a few of the words to herself then fell silent.

“Ruby?” Duffy erred.

“I especially like the ‘play on history’ line. Triple puns are always hard to fit naturally into something as climactic as a battle.” She whipped the page back across the carriage before dropping her relinquished hands to her lap.

“I don’t know what to say. Well, other than thank you.” He could only shrug.

“Duffy, it’d be incredibly arrogant of me to try and change your play. Your talent…” She made sympathetic gestures with her hands, trying to act out just how sincere she was.

“What about it?” he enquired dryly, expecting the worst.

“It is more than enough to handle this tricky request.”

The carriage hit a bump in the road, jolting both occupants with a harsh crash landing to reality. Ruby adjusted her bra when the carriage settled then frowned sympathetically at his pained expression.

“I think it’s fair to say you’ve got enough worries on your plate without me making life difficult.” She nodded to his leg, as he begrudgingly paid attention to its iterant needs. He stretched his shattered calf across the gap between the seats. He propped his heavy, muddied boot up on the chair a few inches to Ruby’s lap. She looked at it disdainfully.

“You’ll have a few more to carry if you get mud anywhere near this Raiaeran silk…”

There was an awkward silence.

Ruby’s masque cracked first and she burst into a fit of giggles. Duffy’s face was, for a while, stony, sour, and stoic.

“That wasn’t funny…” He started to giggle.

“So why’re you laughing?” She gently pressed her hand against his boot as a subtle warning. She turned her attention to the passing tapestry of jade, olive, and emerald foliage.

“I have to laugh…” Duffy slouched.

“You just worry about staying on top of your wounds. You worry about making this play fantastic, and making sure it is the best direction you have ever overseen.” Ruby meant take your time to deal with the fact you are not the leading man.

“What about yourself?” Duffy asked bouncily.

“I’ll will these amateurs into shape. Lillith will make sure the costume design is racing enough for the soldiers.” She curled hip lips into a wicked smile.

Duffy raised an eyebrow.

“I am not sure ‘Erissa’ will like that.” He reflected on what little he knew about the high elf. His meeting with her before they had departed was brief and fleeting. He had been mesmerised by the elf’s beauty. He could not be sure if his respect for her was due to her attractiveness or Jensen’s high praise.

“I am sure she and Lillith will find common ground,” Ruby attested.

That would be a miracle. Lillith was as fierce, independent, and stubborn as her sister was. She did not like anyone telling her what to do.

“We should warn Erissa about what she is letting herself in for.” Duffy’s suggestion made Ruby curl her lip. Her pout brought a smile to Duffy’s face. He started to pack away the manuscripts in red leather satchels. On each, Duffy had painted a gold and purple phoenix on the flap. Its eye was the fastening stud, its wingtips the clasps that secured the bag’s strap.

“She’ll be fine. This play will be the making or breaking of us.” Ruby could see two eventualities come the closing curtain. On one hand, the morale of the Empyrean populace could sky rocket. On the other, it could plummet, and they might find themselves sent kicking and screaming from the country’s grace and hospitality.

Duffy leant back into the comfort of the carriage’s less than smooth final journey. He watched the unfamiliar world pass by in mutual admiration with his long-suffering companion.

"It won’t be long now...," Ruby said softly. She moved to the opposite window frame to get a better view. She craned her neck out and looked along the road. Her hair whipped behind her in long marl streaks, highlighting her wisdom and beauty. Ahead, the tree line finally gave way.

“Then its show time,” Duffy sighed.

[Sagequeen]

Underwear?

The high elf twirled a long silver tress between her fingers as she sat in the carriage, alone. She stared out at the castle, a militant acropolis that indicated the character of its people, constructed of material both strong and rich without the extravagance that usually accompanies great wealth.

'Pretend they're in their underwear,' he had told her. Sure, it was easy for him to say; he was not a demure, reserved elf-maiden cast as a ruthless, raging demon, pitted against the very heroes she was sent to woo. Erissa made a mental note to 'thank' Jensen Ambrose for volunteering her for the mission; that would be, of course, if she could pin him down. He seemed so very avoidant of her in the recent past. With a deep breath she stepped from the carriage and followed her travel-mates into the gaping mouth of the Emprean stronghold, further unnerved by the thought it was laughing at her.

Underwear, underwear, underwear.

The river of people flowed into the foyer, sweeping her along; although there was an outrageous number of actors in the play, the Emprean castle held them all with room for more. The excitement was like crackling electricity among them as they jostled each other; there came a cry over the din as one of the Troupe's elder members called the crowd to attention. Erissa caught sight of Duffy Bracken being escorted, limping deeper into the castle, presumably to meet with Emprea's dignified leaders. Her own meeting with him had been brief, and although the bard knew of her purpose beyond his play, Duffy had enough on his hands that he had merely stared at her for a few fleeting seconds before nodding and shuffling through a monstrous stack of papers.

Erissa picked her way through the crowd, certain the bard had forgotten her in his haste, but Duffy turned, scanning the crowd for the high elf. He raised his hand in a gesture for her to follow, and the way opened before her to her relief. She walked swiftly to the Troupe leader, and with a nod, continued with him and the court guards into a wide corridor.

“Don't mention Jensen. Trust me,” Duffy said in a low voice, inches from the elf's ear. His constant companion, the illustrious Ruby La Roux, laughed, and Erissa raised an eyebrow.

Why am I not surprised? she thought, shaking her head. An indiscernible smile touched her lips. She was pulled from her thoughts by approaching footsteps.

“Hail, friends of Emprea. We welcome you to our realm,” the finely dressed man said as he gave a very slight nod to Duffy and his companions. “I am Jonathon Andrews, the Lord of the House. I regret to inform you that Chief Counselor of Emprea, Viola Conda, although she wishes she could have greeted you herself, is in a meeting of utmost importance. I invite you to accompany me to the room where you will meet her.” It was more a demand than a request from the detached Lord, who was surrounded by his lightly armored entourage.

Duffy gave a knowing look to the gray-haired Ruby, which even Erissa could discern. It was the cold shoulder act from the leadership of Emprea. The trio followed him through a few finely attired passageways, until they finally came to a wide hall, lined with castle guards. Jonathon gestured for them to enter and wait.

Underwear... I wonder if that works for diplomacy as well? Erissa thought as she took a seat near the Ixian general.

[Viola Conda]

Of all the times!

Viola had often thought herself the example of a healthy, in shape soldier. She had no real excess fat, exercised and ate right daily, and made sure to keep her health in peak shape with the essential herbs and nutrients that promoted an immune system capable of standing to most attacks. She was not the fastest, strongest, or most tough member of Emprea, but she could easily hold her own in the mandated tri-monthly Officer’s fitness exams.

Today was a day she wished she trained a bit more though; her lungs burned and muscles ached as she sprinted towards the courtyards. The smooth stoned hallways were usually large enough for six people to walk abreast, but it was never big enough when you really needed to be somewhere. The beautiful foliage hanging in the archways were magically useless, in the way objects, and the corridor she needed was crammed with soldiers, advisors, and servants of the castle as they moved to and fro.

“Excuse me!” Viola shouted. “Coming through!” She darted between two house knights, skipping up and over their scabbards that dragged along the floor. In her landing she lost her footing, spun; when she touched the ground she rolled, using the wall to keep her balance, all while still moving forwards. As she stood up her shoulder brushed against another, and they both turned in a tornado. Viola shouted her apologies, spinning and moving on.

Oh I can’t believe they are here! I hope Jonothan welcomed them in time! This is such a bad display of hospitality! Stupid Fulgrim, not even anything to say in that meeting you demanded to have with me! Oh if I could just see you alone in a room with Donovan for five minutes… she let that thought die then and there, shaking her head.

“Sorry!” Viola said blindly hitting a soldier in the back, her feet still carrying her forwards. She turned, running backwards in a jog to make sure the man was alright. He lifted a hand indicating he was fine, and smiled as he waved her off. Viola waved back, turned, and slammed deep into the chest of something heavy. Her feet kicked up, her chest flattened, and her vision sparked white as she opened her eyes seeing the ceiling. She shook her head, propping herself on her elbows.

“Commander Conda!” A voice spoke out in concern. She felt her elbows being touched, and before she could protest her body was up in the air before being dumped to her feet. “My apologies, Chief Counselor! It was my error for not paying attention to you!” Viola looked up to see a man wearing a wolf pelt over his left shoulder, twinkling blue eyes masked in concern. There was a deep rumbling growl coming from the woman on his right, she too wearing a wolf belt. These pelts denoted that they served Paul Donovan, and they were members of his personal guard; his Wolves. Viola made ready to excuse herself after a quick apology, when a voice rumbled from behind the two wolves. They bowed their heads, turned to face him, and saluted him, standing at the ready.

“Have my wolves troubled you, ma'am?” Paul’s voice was close to a threatening tone as he peered into the eyes of the two warriors. People began to point and whisper as Viola looked to the clock. The Ixian Knights had already been waiting for twenty minutes and she needed to go.

“Not at all, Captain,” Viola said happily, figuring they could wait a few more minutes with mental shrug. A small smile threatened to break out, but she repressed it with all her might. “It was I who troubled them. If maybe I was a bit less speedy, I would have seen these two and avoided ramming head first into them.” She looked back at the time and sighed. “I do apologize, Captain, but I must make haste. The-”

“Ixian Knights arrived. Yes, I know. Jon is already with them keeping them entertained. But if you are here, I then can only assume Lord Advisor Fulgrim detained you longer than necessary?” Viola could feel the implied insult in the venom of Paul’s tone had when he mentioned Fulgrim’s name. She shook her head, not feeding his temper towards the man she knew he despised. She merely smiled, a bit wider than she needed, and began to run off. Paul looked to his wolves, and with a nod the two warriors flanked her while Paul ran ahead the lot, his wolf cloak fluttering behind him.

“Let us escort you, Commander,” the female wolf said. The male nodded in agreement, his body moving to keep people away from Viola’s path. She nodded to them and thanked them, but her voice was drowned out by the cannon like boom of Donovan’s shouting.

“Move aside!” And just like that, the corridor opened, people knowing better than to get in the way of the wolves on a run. Unlike Viola, they had no compulsion to apologize or make sure people knew they were coming. It was move, or be run over. “Chief Counselor, coming through, move aside!” Viola looked to the fleeting form of Paul before her, and felt her heart beat in a manner that was different from the adrenaline of running. She did not know it, but her hand moved upwards, as if to grasp him, but at the last moment she caught herself and shook her head.

She reminded herself that she made the choice to stop chasing this desire.

Instead, she let her captain lead her through the castle as the wolves howled their presence all the way to the meeting room.


~*~*~


With Donovan’s help Viola was able to reach the room far faster than she would have alone, and so she took a moment to adjust her clothes, catch her breath, and make herself look more presentable. Paul excused himself with his wolves, pausing to say a few greetings to Natalie as she stepped up, and then he was gone.

“How was your date?” Natalie teased. Viola made ready to tell her off but the door opened, revealing the Ixian Knights to her. She stifled the look of hostility she showed her friend. Natalie introduced Viola by rank, as was custom, and Viola strolled in and sat across from General Bracken. Jonothan was already sitting across from Ruby, a content smile from the friendly discussion he was having as Natalie sat next to her across from the elf, opening a large folder and pulling out papers and handing them to the delegates while leaving a fat folder filled with copies to the side.

“Greetings all, I hope your ride was comfortable,” Viola said softly. “These are merely the housing arrangements we set up. We cleared out most of the House Knights from the barracks, so the accommodations should be acceptable to your troupe. Each room is furnished with desk, table, and bed as well as a library and recreation area. In those halls anyone of your troupe is permitted to walk freely, and no permission is needed to ever enter or leave the castle. I shall assign no curfew to your people, but please respect we have a ten o’clock curfew for active soldiers should you wish to host any activities.”

“That sounds very accommodating, Chief Active Counselor,” the Elf said gently, nodding her head in gratitude. Duffy looked to Viola, gave a week smile, and leaned towards the elf and whispered. Her cheeks turned a bit red as her mouth slipped into an understanding ‘O’ shape and she looked to Viola with apology. “Active Chief Counselor,” she stammered.

“Counselor or Ms Conda will suffice,” Viola said sweetly. Jonothan did not hide his chuckling while Natalie grinned to the Elf. Duffy gave her a soft pat before Viola moved on.

“As for the inner castle, you are restricted to only the main library and the kitchens; otherwise you must be escorted by an officer. We will provide one upon request. You all have free access to our meals, so long as the kitchen is open, and if you’d like we can accommodate a portion of the kitchen to your cooks if you so choose.”

“Ruby can barely cook as it is,” Duffy muttered. To that, the graying red head smiled, and Duffy’s body jolted as he massaged a leg. “Thank you all the same, Ms Conda.” Duffy finished with a bit of pain. Viola paused a moment before continuing as if nothing happened.

“The main castle where the royal family resides is off limits, as well as the active military barracks. This is your only warning. We will attack on site. I will keep my soldiers away from your troupe, I expect the same courtesy.” Duffy nodded as he looked to the paper and gave a satisfied sigh. “As for you, General Bracken, you and your entourage have the privilege of bunking in the main castle. Servants will attend to your needs at all hours. Please, make use of them. Anything we can do to make your stay better. We are nothing if not gracious.”

“Thank you Active-“ Viola peered down to the elf, who gulped, and took a second before replying. “Counselor Conda. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated. On behalf the Ixian Knights, I thank you.” Viola could feel the script in air, the way the elf spoke, and though this was the very first time she had ever seen one, so far she was not amused. She couldn’t tell if the woman was scared, arrogant, or just plain void of emotion. She nodded back to her politely. “I do hope we can take this time to mend the wounds dealt by our order in the past.”

“Oh, as do I,” Viola said, though the back of her mind was screaming the word ‘no’ repeatedly. Many good soldiers died because of the Ixian Knights, and Viola did not forget that. She turned back to General Bracken and smiled to him sweetly. “I have organized the courtyard on the eastern side to accommodate the needs for rehearsal, and our engineer team is ready with fresh materials and tools to make any vision of a stage and props you require a reality. Sei Orlouge has promised me no expenses spared,” Viola grinned devilishly. “So I expect us to spare none.”

She watched for the Elf’s reaction to her casual taunt. She wanted to see if the young elf would take her bait, and say something about squandering resources, yet when none came Viola smiled more warmly. Perhaps the elf had more to her than she thought. Time would tell. “Now, I have done all the talking, please, General, my heroes are at your disposal, as am I. What can we do to serve you?”

[Duffy]

There was a time and place for amateur dramatics. Duffy decided that now was not that time. The severity of the diplomatic undertones suddenly dawned on him. It was a rude awakening. Despite their friendly relations, looking up at Viola from his seat, he let his head speak before his heart.

“For this to work Lady Conda, we’ll need two things from your court. The first of these is your cooperation.” Duffy thought this request would be obvious enough. Cooperation and teamwork were the underpinning forces of a strong theatre troupe. Without those, you were nothing more than troubadours and minstrels.

“You have our undivided attention,” Viola replied.

Duffy admired her long faded scars of battle. She, like Ruby, was a woman that had been through the wars. She appeared, like Ruby, to have come out stronger for it. He smiled appreciatively.

“We’ll then need you to follow the stage direction on the manuscript with upmost precision.” Ruby rolled her eyes at this. Duffy tapped the tip of his cane onto the cold stone and made a show of adjusting his position in the chair. He was already growing restless. “Mrs Winchester,” he nodded to Ruby, “will aid your men in their preparations.”

“I’ll bring the best out in them,” she added. She crossed her legs over one another and rested her ring-laden hands on the table. “They’ll not want to step out of the limelight when I’m done.”

“It will be my job to direct,” Duffy chuckled at her enthusiasm. He rested his cane against the inside of his thighs and mimicked Ruby’s eccentric hand gestures. Her uncanny ability to make him forget his nerves was doing wonders for his composure.

“Lady Kazumi,” he pointed to the Akashiman sat opposite, “will put together the costumes.” The bard paused for a moment, before he turned his extended digit to Erissa. “Miss Cadron will aide her.” He hoped ‘aide’ was not an insult to the elf. From what he had learned, she was quite the tailor.

“It will be a pleasure,” Erissa said with a curt bow.

Viola made a desperate attempt to keep up with the torrent of instructions. A scribe stood behind her, taking down every detail.

“What else can we do for you, General Bracken?”

“You can stop calling me general, for one. My name is Duffy Brandybuck, Duffy for short. I am not a part of the Ixian Knights here, Lady Conda. We will soon become daemonic, dark, and creatural spirits of war.” He grinned.

“What he means, is that on the stage, everyone’s equal.” Ruby leant forwards and cupped her hand over her mouth, as though she were trying to keep Duffy out of the loop. There was a chorus of nervous laughter from the gathered dignitaries.

Viola waited for the laughter to fade, then nodded several times. Her finger remained poised on her lip. “Yes,” she said softly. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“I’m glad to hear! When the Tantalum troupe is finished with you, your army will swell two fold. The triumph of this production will echo through Empyrean history.” The bard beamed a smile as applause broke out.

“Right now we could murder some food and wine,” Lillith added. There was a second round of applause.

They would need all their strength before Duffy began to grind the egos of the Empyrean generals into the dirt. Once he had done that, he could build them back up and drive acting into their hearts.

He turned and smiled at Erissa. He leant forwards to whisper advice in her ear.

“If Lillith bit, snarls, or generally acts uncouth to you, mention Jensen.” He leant away quickly to re-join the applause. He saw Erissa’s wry smile out of the corner of his eye. He was already starting to like the newest Ixian Knight very much.

[Sagequeen]

“Once again, our warmest welcomes are extended to you, Duffy, and your Tantalum Troupe. Please, make yourselves at home during your stay in Emprea,” Viola said, rising from her chair. As she rose, so too did the entourage around her. With a masked grimace, Duffy arose, followed by Ruby and Erissa. “Do not hesitate to ask for whatever you may need.” With a polite nod, the Ixians were dismissed, and Duffy's mind whirred with the task before him, yet his eyes never left the beautiful Ruby, a picture of grace and poise.

“Where might I find Lillith?” Erissa quietly asked Duffy, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Viola halted her exit and interrupted him.

“Ms. Caedron, Erissa was it?” the Chief Adviser Counsellor asked.

“Yes, Ms. Conda,” Erissa said, an amicable smile and feigned sense of ease hiding her being called upon unexpectedly.

“Why don't you accompany me for a while. I won't take up too much of your time; I understand you will be playing the part of our enemy, the demon,” Viola said curtly, “and you will need to prepare.”

It was then the tunnel vision set in for the high elf; the room and all in it seemed to grow in size, with the petite elf but a doll, a child's plaything in a room of giants.

It was absolutely wrong and unforgivable for her to do it, but Erissa did it anyway.

“It is my honor,” the high elf said smiling, all the while focusing in on Viola Conda, carefully reading and cataloging the transient memories that flashed through the woman's mind. As the greater part of the colorful procession of the Emprean entourage slipped through the doorway across the room from the elf, and Duffy and Ruby made their way through the door of the great hall behind her, Erissa stepped swiftly around the table to join Viola.

“The tales of elven beauty are no exaggeration,” Viola said as they left the room. As Erissa searched her, she found no hostility in the woman's memory toward elves, and in fact, a memory of one specifically, Tobias, an elf-maiden of the Knights.

Erissa glanced to the side of the wide hall where a rather imposing man stood vigil; he was handsome and adorned with the pelt of a wolf. Viola followed the elf's gaze, and Erissa caught something akin to affection for him as the memories slipped through the steely resolve of the Chief Advisor Counselor's mind. But as quickly as they surfaced, they were shoved away again. The woman cleared her throat.

“Thank you, and the tales of your fair kingdom do not do it justice,” Erissa replied sincerely. Viola clucked her tongue, her rapid stride clearing long halls in a fraction of the time Erissa would have taken sight-seeing.

“It tends to draw vultures, hoping to pick every bit of flesh from the bone,” she said coldly, the insinuation not lost on the elf. The Ixian struggled to keep pace with Viola.

“I assure you, Ms. Conda-” Erissa began, but Viola abruptly stopped and spun to face the elf.

“Keep your assurances. I bet you could tell me - with that same serene smile – that there's a pink unicorn behind me. It's actions, Ms. Caedron, that truly speak.” Viola began walking at her hurried pace again, leading Erissa through the various passageways and richly decorated halls of the Emprean castle.

“There are not enough apologies in the world that can cover the blood that we, the Ixian Knights, have on our hands,” Erissa said sadly.

“At least you acknowledge it and don't try to blame it on someone else,” Viola sighed. “Here we are,” she said gesturing to the guests' rooms within the castle. They were expansive with the same neutral-toned marble floors, enormous well-woven rugs spread beneath the bed. Pillows in abundance rested on the bed and couches, and ornate sconces flickered from the smooth, stone walls. “Fit for a diplomat,” Viola said. “The pantry has been stocked for you, as well as the wardrobe; consider it a personal gift from the royal family.”

“Thank you, Ms. Conda,” Erissa said, her stomach in knots. “Your hospitality is most-”

“You're welcome,” she replied, and with a nod, turned on her heel and paced away, leaving the elf to her fineries. Erissa closed the door of her room and without further delay, flopped herself down moodily on the bed. She squeaked as a sharp edge jabbed into her stomach; as the young arcanist rolled away from the source of her pain, she groaned, a long, miserable sound that echoed through the room.

The massive stack of bound paper was a script. Erissa wondered if it were possible for her to smother herself with a silk pillow, or if she would simply pass out, and awaken to the same problems and a terrible headache. The note on the first page read:

First rehearsal tomorrow. Lillith will find you later for wardrobe. - Duffy

[Viola Conda]

Viola looked to the field as the several members of the tantalum troop prepared parties for rehearsal, Duffy moving with his cane between each group and offering words of insight or praise. The script had been grabbed by some of the fastest scribes, and freshly inked earlier in the day so that everyone had a copy ready to go. Viola looked down upon herself one last time, seeing her civilian fatigues. It had been quite a long time since she wore something that wasn’t her uniform, and the feeling left her wondering if she was naked.

Next to her David King fixed his hair, dusting off some lint from his tunic he wore and chuckling. “Been quite the time since I broke out this shirt. I’m surprised it still fits enough. Being Captain of the Guard made me lose more weight than I had thought.” Viola gave him a passing grin as the two carried on. “Have you heard from Rachel yet? I haven’t actually had a chance to see her in the past few days.”

“She is going to join us this afternoon. She’s making sure Hilda Spero is prepared to take care of her soldiers in her absence. Who did you have guarding your charges?” Viola asked sweetly.

“Me? I left Captain Falcon. I know Jonothan left Captain Hawk,” he let off a charming smile. “someone we can trust to keep our rivalry going between the two units.” Viola let out a playful laugh as she thought about the heated competition between the Guard and the House Knights. Created b the two heores, and echoed through each man and woman under their command. Her eyes looked to see Jonothan with Ruby La Roux, or was it Winchester? She thought a bit about it and was wholly unsure. Either way, the graying red head had seemed to have Jonothan stuck in her clutches as she spoke with great fan fair.

“Looks like we need to reinforce out men,” Viola chuckled. David stepped forward as Ruby continued her solo rant, complete with gesturing arms and Jonothan looked to her with utter confusion and a lack of knowing exactly what it was he should be doing in the current moment. “Lady Ruby,” Viola said politely, clearing her throat. “I have arrived with David King. Where shall we-“

“Late!” Ruby turned on the Active Chief Counselor. David flinched back to see her fury as she looked to his commanding officer, but Viola kept a neutral face. “As the lead role in this production, you are to be the example all others will look to, and you start your first day being late!”

“My apologies Lady Ruby-“ Viola was cut off again as Ruby lifted a hand to silence her, interjecting with her fiery words.

“Will not suffice. Duffy has gone to great lengths to ensure his end of the bargain was kept, and to repay him by being two minutes late is unacceptable! Do you have anything to say for your failures?”

“Two minutes?” Viola asked incredually. “According to the main clock, we are five minutes early!” Ruby shook her head.

“Five minutes early is when the actors arrive, not the stars! The eight o’clock deadline was to ensure the final stragglers would come in! But you, who carry a heavy burden, must ensure that you are here before the others. All of your heroes!”

“I suggest we run, as a strategy, M’am,” David whispered loudly. Ruby turned her gaze to him, before smiling sweetly. She clasped her hands together and moved towards him, linking arms as she dragged him forwards. He turned his gaze back to the other’s muttering the words ‘run!’ as he was introduced to a few Tantalum troupe members. Viola blinked repeatedly at the woman who dragged her comrade away and shook her head to clear the events our of her head.

“What a strange little woman.”

“The awkward thing was, she was screaming at me for being too early…” Jonothan muttered. “Said I throw the timing of everything else off, and that there is a strict timetable to adhere to. I apologized, but she just kept going.”

“Further than we got,” Natalie’s soft voice came through the air as both warrior’s turned to see Natalie flanked by a disgruntled Paul Donovan. She greeted both soldiers as Paul said his hello’s looking towards the coming day with a grimace. “I was told that my skin wasn’t the right complex for the tage, and I’d need to tan.”

“I was told I was too big.” Paul muttered. “A compliment any other day, but today I felt like a jack ass for it. Sorry m’am,” Paul teased to Viola. “My bulk has shamed the wolves.” They all laughed as they began to head towards their prescribed rehearsal area. Viola moved in the shadow of Donovan, feeling a particular warmth to it as she leaned to look at him when not in uniform. Much like David he wore a tunic, but the sleeves were cut off to make way for his brute physique. The fabric was a soft leather, and despite the oddity of it, he still wore his wolf pelt on the shoulder in respect to his unit of wolves. He carefully eyed down to her, and when their eyes met both smiled, warmly as Viola’s face turned red.

You both are off duty now, She thought whimsically. You could afford to be a bit more…friendly with him. She played with the thought in her mind before she sighed shaking the thought away. That was a can of worms she did not wish to open. Well…maybe she did.

“Ah! Welcome the stars of the show!” Ruby began to clap with a bravado that made them all pause. “Welcome, come, come, I am to be your acting coach when Duffy isn’t arund. Come, come! We have a lot of work to do.” When they all entered the small circle she looked to each one with a n appraising eye. “Do you all find me awkward? Odd? Off balance perhaps?” She turned to each one as she asked, giving a wink to the boys and a genuine smile to the ladies.

“Certified nutcase,” Natalie muttered darkly under breath. Viola grinned to that, knowing the girl instantly had a terrible deep seated and wholly unfounded hatred for Ruby when Paul opened his big mouth and said she was more beautiful than she. Ruby leaned in on her, showing all of her perfect whites. The girl gulped to be under the microscope as Ruby let it sink in. Then with a flourish she turned, doing an impressive walk sashaying her hips from side to side. Viola giggled to herself, notcing her purposely act this way just to tease the boys. Not that it would work she mused looking to Donovan.

“Stop starring,” Viola whispered loudly. She hadn’t even realized she said the words when Ruby turned back around and spoke again.

“No, Ms Conda, let him. That’s what acting IS,” she said with a sly smile. “It’s the total captivation of others while performing in a role! I can be insane in one moment, sultry in another, and stoic and commanding in the next! The execution of each is the pinnacle of all actors that many will strive, and far fewer will achieve. Today, I screamed and bellowed at each of you, because I wanted you to think I was crazier than a bat in a belfry. Then, with my cute charms and winks I wanted to catch the men’s attention while drawing ire from the women! Notice that the first time I used the language of speech to convince you I was crazy, but this second part I achieved through careful use of tone and the language of my body. You all need to focus this as your new goals. Each character has a motivation, a style, and flair that you must encompass and merge your very soul with! You are not to come out on stage as the people in costumes portraying your proud ancestors, but come out stage as the ancestors of old!”

Ruby turned and began to recount the entire script in an abridged fashion, which Viola was quickly learning wasn’t going to be abridged at all. Still, the woman had proved a valid point, and if this insane woman could fill her recruits, she would listen to her. Paul let out a long, heavy sigh as he drooped his shoulders.

“This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?” Paul whispered to the group. Nods accompanied his question, and Ruby turned seeing them all bobbing their heads in tune with her speech. She smiled, thinking they were grasping it and continued on.

[Duffy]

Lillith hovered outside Erissa’s door. She teetered back and forth on the balls of her feet. Whilst there was a multitude of things to discuss with the elf, she felt torn between waltzing in with authority and making a polite entrance to garner trust.

“How good can she be?” she asked the shadows.

The tailor was weary that the elf’s talent with a needle had preceded her. The troupe, after all, had worn Lillith’s garments for five centuries. The thought of someone else dressing the cast made her feel nauseated.

“Pull it together, woman,” she chided herself.

She slapped her heels against the cold stone of the corridor, and raised a clenched fist to the door. She knocked politely three times, and waited for a sign to enter. Her black kimono and long, ribbon like hair were flaxen and soft in the torchlight. She decided that looking at the task in a positive would ease its burden.

“Hello?” a hushed voice asked.

Lillith placed her hand on the knob and turned it gently. It grated clockwise, clicked, and then came undone. She pushed hard against the heavy deadweight and stepped into the room behind its swing. A rush of warm, scented air struck her, instantly thawing her cold expression to the luxurious quarters and the sight of the beautiful elf within.

“Hello Lillith. Duffy said you’d come to find me,” Erissa smiled meekly, and set the pages of the manuscript she was deeply involved with down onto her lap. She sat in a lavishly ornate chair at the centre of the room besides a small side table. At her feet there was and chest, mahogany bound in lime wood, that was open and spilling its contents onto the worn stone. “Please, come in. I won’t bite,” she waved the tailor across the divide.

Before such beauty, Lillith felt horribly plain. Her simple, unpronounced features paled in comparison to the elf’s regal aura. She stopped ten or so feet into the room, and rested her palms in the small of her back.

“Is this a good time?” she enquired.

“But of course,” Erissa replied with a curt nod.

“As I’m sure Duffy and Ruby have told you, I am the troupe’s tailor. I can’t say working with others comes naturally to me, but I’ve been re-assured you’re worth the effort.”

“I certainly wouldn’t want to tread on your toes, Lillith. When I mentioned I was a tailor to Duffy, he seemed hesitant at first, for precisely that reason.” She shuffled the manuscript into a neat pile and dropped it into the chest.

“He did?” Lillith asked, raising an eyebrow. It did not seem like Duffy to sing her praises.

“I am at your beck and call for the duration of the play.” She rose, hands crossed over her front, dress flowing in her wake.

“Then I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” Lillith shuffled the cork heel of her geta against the faded rug in the centre of the room.

“Oh?” the elf enquired.

“I’ll be busy making the costumes for the generals over the next day or two. There are far too many to make myself. That scamp you met when we were loading the wagons, called Pettigrew, is quite good with a pair of scissors. We need a third pair of hands to say the least.” She chuckled nervously, before she produced a scroll from the folds of her kimono. She held it out for the elf’s inspection.

“What is this?” Erissa asked. She took it, unrolled it, and held it to the candlelight.

“A costume pattern,” Lillith said, as if it needed explaining.

“Oh, I like the design,” Erissa muttered non-chalant admiration for Lillith’s handiwork.

“It’s Lady Conda’s costume. I would like for you to make it.”

“Me?” Erissa gasped. Her eyes widened. “Oh Lillith, I would be delighted!”

“Making Viola’s attire would serve not only your mission to the Empyrean Royal Household, but also, as your job interview.”

“What sort of job interview?” Erissa seemed surprised. She rolled up the scroll and tucked it into the hem of her robe. Lillith could hear the elf’s mind whirring away, adjusting a hem here, a frill there.

“Oh, Duffy didn’t tell you?” She could only smile. She turned to leave, stopping just before she turned the knob to glance over her shoulder. “If you have it ready for tomorrow’s first dress rehearsal…Duffy’s very keen to offer you more gainful commissions for a project in the elven courts of Raiaera.”

Before Erissa could enquire further, Lillith slipped back out into the cold corridor. She shut the door, and leant against the wood with a sigh of relief. She cocked her head back and thumped her skull against the pine, as if she were checking she were still alive.

“There…,” she grit her teeth. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

With her question ringing in her ears, she skipped down the hallway to find Pettigrew. The assassin could readily deal with him, at least.

[Sagequeen]

Perhaps I am a better actress than I thought, Erissa mused, the smile fading from her face as she watched Lillith slip through the door. The high elf was not entirely concerned - and rather perturbed - about the incredibly short notice and the so-called 'job interview,' but it was the potential for the master tailor to use her skill to, hopefully, create a bridge to the distant Viola Conda that gave the elf hope. But to craft the design by tomorrow morning, especially if Erissa intended to weave her own cloth, would be exceedingly difficult.

Erissa pulled the tightly braided, golden cord that hung near the enormous bed; at the end of it was a small golden bell in the servants' quarters. Within moments, a soft knock echoed in the quiet room.

“Ms. Caedron? You rang?” a pleasant voice called through the thick door. Erissa slid from the bed, confident for once in the task set before her. She opened the door and smiled politely at the young woman. “How may I be of service?”

“I need silk,” Erissa said, studying the pattern closely. “And precious metals, gems... armor as well. I will need an armor-smith.”

“Yes, Ms. Caedron,” the girl said quickly, and Erissa paused. The master tailor looked closely at the girl, smiling apologetically.

“Forgive me,” she said, “but I did not ask your name.”

“Oh, Jaslin, ma'am.”

“Jaslin, it is nice to meet you. I tend to be oblivious when I work, and this garment is very important. May I accompany you to the wares stores and the smith?”

“Of course, Ms. Caedron,” the girl said, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Erissa,” the elf said, nodding. “Let us go! Time is of the essence.” Jaslin quickly escorted Erissa once again through the rich halls of the palace, out into the open air of Emprea. “Tell me Jaslin, how long have you worked for the royal family in the palace?”

“Since I was sixteen, so that makes four years now. I guess you could call it a family tradition; my mother is also in the family's service,” the girl said shyly.

“How do you like it?” Erissa asked, admiring the brilliant colors of the setting sun over the sheltering mountains encircling a good part of the empire.

“It has it's perks, you know,” the girl laughed.

“Do you ever wish you were on the other side?” Erissa asked leaning in close and laughing good-naturedly.

“Oh, no ma'am,” Jaslin said, eyes wide. “If I had to work half as hard as any of them, I think I'd rather just tend the swine in the sod. I am a servant, yes, but I only serve a few people. The King, along with Ms. Conda and her Heroes, well, they serve everyone. That's a big job!” Erissa nodded very thoughtfully at the girl. They walked quickly through the castle keep, drawing many stares; high elves were rarely seen, if ever, in these lands, so distant from Raiaera.

Jaslin led Erissa to the various shops, and much to her excitement, the elf found an armor smith who was willing to work through the night to modify a chest plate and helm to meet the specifics of the design Lillith had given her. In the textile store, the master tailor practically squealed when she saw the quality of imported silk skeins; it would be perfect for weaving her signature cloth, a skill passed through the generations of the Tarsul family, Erissa's mother's side. The young servant girl waited patiently, chatting with the store's owner, both watching in awe as Erissa's hands flew over the loom in a blur, and the vibrant cloth billowed forth. In a matter of an hour, Erissa had enough of the cloth to suit her needs. In another hour, part of the cloth was dyed a vibrant royal blue, and the other part a regal, rich black.

The elf clapped her hands happily and loaded the wet cloth into canvas bags; the color began to bleed through, but the elf had no time to spare. Just as stars began twinkling in the night sky, Erissa and Jaslin arrived back at the castle.

“I need to hang the cloth to dry,” Erissa implored Jaslin. “And a well ventilated area, so it dries quickly. I will be working through the night as it is. Thank you, so much, for your help.”

“Oh, it's nothing,” Jaslin said, smiling. “Come, to the palace laundry. The staff can use their big woven fans to help dry it!”

“Wonderful!” Erissa said as they entered into the stony abode of the royalty of Emprea. “I am afraid I have caused you to miss dinner, and I would appreciate the opportunity to make up for it. Will you join me in my chambers for a meal?” the high elf asked the young servant girl; her eyes lit up as she nodded eagerly. With the cloth delivered, the two retreated to Erissa's room, and Jaslin bustled to the pantry to retrieve the food.

“Please, Jaslin. Have a seat and allow me.” Erissa smiled at the girl, guiding her to the small, oak table. Erissa grabbed the tray and began filling it with various jars, boxes, and breads. Jaslin looked shyly to the floor as the diplomat set it before her. She pulled back a chair and joined the woman at the table. The two ate quietly, both famished from all the walking.

“That is a lovely ring on your finger,” Erissa commented, popping open a jar of sweet preserves and slathering it on several pieces of hard bread. “Who is the lucky man?” Jaslin smiled, fidgeting with the cheese on her plate.

“Well, it was my grandmother's, so I guess you could say the lucky man was my grandfather,” she said, smiling fondly. “They were sweethearts from the first time they met; he was 20 and she was 18. You never saw them apart, never saw them fight. There was a love there that never dimmed, not even a smidge, over the years. My grandpa died first, and my grandma died a few days later, after she gave me this ring. 'May you be blessed with the same kind of love.' Those were her last words to me.” The beginnings of a tear shimmered in the girl's eye. Erissa lay down her bread and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. With her free hand, she grabbed Jaslin's.

“I have no doubt that blessing will come to fruition,” the high elf assured her, squeezing her hand gently. Erissa leaned back and nibbled on some of the sweet cakes.

“What about you?” Jaslin asked. “Surely you have someone waiting at home for you!”

“Oh, well,” Erissa stuttered, unprepared for such a question. “No, he is just a friend.” Jaslin cocked her head slightly as she grinned.

“Really,” she mused. “By the look on your face-” A sharp rap interrupted the girl, and Erissa sprang up to open the door; a servant from the laundry bore the dried cloth into the room, and laid it neatly on the bed.

“Time to work!” Erissa declared. “Jaslin, I could use an extra pair of hands, but you do not need to feel obligated to stay. I have already asked so much of you.”

“It's my pleasure!” the girl said, dusting her apron as she stood. “Let's get started.”

************************

The high elf awoke abruptly to the buzz of excitement in the air, echoing and amplified in the hallway outside her quarters in the castle. Erissa was groggy and oddly disappointed to have awakened from a dream she could not quite recall, one filled with the memories of laughter and a dark figure that eluded her. She lay there, trying to remember, when it occurred to her where she was, and why she was there. Erissa's hair was a mess, the blankets a tangle; she flung the bed dressings aside as she realized she had overslept. Her small feet slapped against the marble floor as she rushed to the restroom quarters. The silken nightgown fluttered to the floor as Erissa tossed it aside, and the diplomat squealed as the shower spat algid water upon her. However, there was no time to wait for it to warm; Erissa was determined to make a good impression, and that meant not being late for the first rehersal.

A few hurried moments later, she pulled a comb through her hair and wrapped the long, silver strands up in a tight bun, then slipped into a casual, gray pantsuit and heelless slippers. She seized the script from the nightstand, as well as the finished cloth. Erissa snatched the metal pieces of the costume, which the smith had delivered in the early hours of the morning, just as Erissa was finishing the last few stitches on the cloth. She burst through the door, sprinted through the castle and out into the large opening where the Tantalum Troupe were congregating.

[Viola Conda]

Viola had to admit that acting was a business she gave no care for. She never had whimsical dreams to make it big mostly because she admitted she had no talent for it. Yet with the coaching instructions with Ruby Winchester she began to feel the stage call to her like she was a lost child. Memorization of lines came to each actor quickly and easily, for it was no different than remembering detailed orders. Yet Ruby somehow got them to be passionate of their roles, making them more than regurgitated spittle, but an extension of their personality. David and Natalie took the spotlight with zeal and clearly showed a dramatic flair that Ruby cultivated like a gardener.

They did have a few hitches though. It had turned out that it was not only Erissa Caedron with stage fright, but Rachel Leona, her sharpshooter and Captain of the Archers had a breakdown on stage and jumped ship when Ruby tried to bring ‘the soul of the stage to life’ within her. However that was even ages ago as the woman now managed to speak her lines with at least a detached professionalism. Ruby had worked extra hard with her while Duffy used his cane to hobble from one social circle to the next, offering wisdom, advice, and orders to follow to see his vision realized. She could tell from one commander to another that he wanted nothing more than to be in the trenches with Ruby, teaching and rehearsing a role, but she admired his dedication to keep out.

“I have but one last alteration to make to your outfit, Ms Conda,” Erissa sweetly said as the battle dress was cut short (per Ruby’s demands) than Viola would have liked. She preferred knee length, but Ruby demanded the shorter the better. A compromise was made to alter it to go no higher than three quarters of her upper thigh. The Silver breastplate was finely polished and the new etchings in it were dazzling to behold. It was easiest the biggest show off of art she ever wore, and she had seen very detailed House armor passed from family generation to generation. She had to admit as she lifted the black suede knee high boot and kicked her toes in place with a smirk that she rather liked the treatment.

“There we are,” the Elf said patting Viola gently on the side and lifting herself to her regal height with grace, her arms locked in front of her as she admired the Active Chief Counselor. “What do you think?” Viola gave her an honest nod of appreciation, stepping towards the mirror and looking at her reflection.

“Like a fool,” Viola admitted with a smile. “Like I’m a dolled up warlord’s concubine,” she turned her head to gauge the elf’s reaction. If she was insulted, saddened, or holding back a laugh the Counselor could not tell. She wondered if all Elves were as hard to read as her. “I’m sure this means Ruby and General Bracken will be pleased.” Erissa at last allowed herself a gentle smile.

“I agree it is a bit esoteric, Counselor Conda,” Erissa stepped forward’s and began to adjust a few straps on the armor as well as pull on the clothing a bit. “But it was made with the intentions of you standing out more than any other hero. You are the strongest pillar of your military, and as such should be elevated to a higher position in the minds of your viewers. Can your arms move more freely?”

“Yes they can, thank you,” Viola replied politely. “Duffy has made sure you’ve been rather busy with the play production, and I feel like we are not getting as good an opportunity to meet and discuss the matters of the alliance you are supposed to be sealing.” Viola grabbed her hair and placed it into one tight pony tail and looked again in the mirror. She smiled to herself thinking the pony tail made her look more like a warrior than a prize possession.

“Well, yes,” the elf replied carefully. “I felt the whole reason you welcomed us here in the first place should be a priority. I have taken great lengths to prepare a time however for us to meet tonight-“

“Now will suit just fine,” Viola cut her off, lifting a hand to her shirt and tugging so it didn’t protrude over the crest of her chest plate so much. She felt like a peacock. Her eyes lazily scanned the mirror to see Erissa’s face turning ghostly white.

“You mean this instant?” Viola nodded wearily as she turned to look at her backside. This skirt was rather shorter than she liked. She hated dresses. Far too…free for her suited tastes. And her legs felt cold in the winter air. The elf gulped audibly which Viola passed off as nothing, turning to give her a warm smile filled with all the venom of a coiling snake. True, she didn’t hate the woman at all, far from it. She liked all these members of the Ixian Knight’s, but she wasn’t going to make their job any easier because she liked them. Good people died due to this group’s misguided priorities. She will not be caught off guard again.

“What is your Lord Sei Orlouge planning as fair trade for our vast wealth?” Viola asked the woman strolling towards her and lifting her leg up to a chair to stretch. An updrafting wind made her skirt ruffle upwards and she went wide eyed. That was a new feeling I do not ever wish to enjoy again

“Sei…trade…” Erissa’s mouth gaped a moment before she took a deep quick breath, muttered something about underpants, and spoke in a more dignified matter. “We are aware that your nation is in the middle of a hostile environment. He would like to pledge his Knight’s to your defense should you ever need us. In addition, there are resources that are difficult for you to obtain in this region; we would like to make acquiring them easier.”

“The Dukedom of Florence is already in a trade agreement with us. They are second largest network of trade I this region of Althanas, second only to Benzer further north past the Kingdom of Dunland,” Viola replied casually as if reading the weather in the newspaper. “Should we have need of materials, items, and such I am more than positive we could get it through those channels.”

“Yes, and that is a point of contention. I have been authorized to negotiate the terms of any trade materials you wish. One of our Nine Generals is a blacksmith of magical things. The rare metals you mine would be a great boon to us and our cause. Naturally, and I reiterate, any gain for our cause will be used to support you in yours. Equality is what the Ixian Knight’s strive for.”

“Is not one of the Nine Generals Cassandra Remi?” Viola asked tilting her head in contemplation in Erissa’s direction. “She’s an infamous serial killer all across this land, the Emprea Eviscerator, as we call her. Her head is wanted in these lands. Sei harbors ilk like that?”

Erissa’s mouth once again opened wider than a fish as she looked to her side in distress, as if some inside memory surfaced and her face turned to a sorrowful one. She shook her head and returned her gaze to the Chief Counselor. “That vile woman is of no more concern to Sei Orlouge. He personally saw to it she is no longer in his army.”

Viola lifted her hand to dissuade her from speaking further. “Allow me to cut to the chase and stop hiding my intentions in quiet hidden meanings. Since last time we did this you killed several of our men. Sei doesn’t seem to know who he can and cannot trust. He opens his arms to everyone’s embrace. There are those who will take advantage of that. Cassandra Remi is a prime example. And the last time you sent delegations to the surrounding nation’s Carthage ran you through the ringer. If you cannot find a way to overcome that horrifying concern than I am afraid there won’t be much of a delegation meeting at any point in the future.” Viola left her stare upon the elf. Erissa looked to her with a smidge of fear, but her face slowly narrowed and she stiffened her spine.

“I can appreciate the concerns you have, and as earlier you told me, we do not shy away from the blood on our hands. Yet we came all this way, with the intentions of correcting that mistake. If this show of goodwill is not an indicator of what the Ixian Knight’s can do for your country, then perhaps…perhaps…” Erissa felt her tongue get twisted into knots and Viola looked to her, cocking an eyebrow in a friendly manner. “Perhaps you…”

“…Realized I goaded you into a comeback?” Viola teased the elf. “Of course. I had to see how committed you were to making this work. Ruby was right, a few choice words and tone make all the difference.” Viola smiled brightly, and Erissa let out a nervous laugh that Viola giggled to. They both carried on in that state as the Counselor lifted her hand out in a friendly gesture. “This display of your group’s goodwill indeed impresses me, and I am grateful for it. Name a more reasonable and suitable time, Erissa Caedron, and I shall make sure you can start the negotiations on your own terms.”

“Thank you, Chief Counselor,” Erissa bowed her head politely. Viola was about to say something when she heard a roar from the compound. Erissa cocked her head in confusion as the two looked to each other, and with a nod they both headed to the tent flap. When they opened the door they found a large congregation of people looking towards the main tents of the other heroes.

“I dunno, pal, I think you look classy,” David’s voice rang out in the air with a hint of mirth.

“Yes Captain Donovan,” Natalie’s voice mirrored her boyfriend’s elation. There was a chorus of chuckles as Viola stepped forwards, the crowd thinning to allow her access to what they saw. Erissa lifted a hand to her lips, stifling a giggle as Viola felt her eyes widen and gut start to wrench with laughter.

“Shut your damn mouths,” Paul muttered in a deadly note.

“Oh, you on your period miss Donovan,” David taunted.

“King I will fucking end you!” Paul snapped turning. Viola let out a shriek of laughter as she grabbed Erissa to support herself. She could not help but laugh as she looked to Paul Donovan, the definition of berserker and barbarian made manifest. The man with enrapturing aggression, the Wolf Lord of the front lines…

…was in a dress. A furry one piece dress with a large belt that held his toy props. He was making a move towards the Captain of the Guard with rage filled steps, but he didn’t reach far as Lilith shouted smacking him in the arm.

“AIYA! You big lug, hold still! I’m not done with the alterations!” The crowd laughed as she grabbed the hem of the bottom fur, and proceeded to lift it up to past his knee.

“NO, STOP IT!” Paul was tormented in his screams, his hands trying to lower the battle skirt.

“Captain Donovan!” Viola shouted with a big smile on her lips. “We are to obey all orders given to us by General Bracken and his assistants. Now hold still and let her play dress up!” Now the crowd was in tears as Paul’s face turned beat red, his lips letting our haggard breaths.

“Oh, I think I have a makeup that will really go well with that get up!” Natalie laughed as David began to wheeze with laughter. Paul made to swipe at her, but Lilith grabbed his arm, bent it backwards, and started to measure his shoulders.

“Ow!”

“Oh suck it up, princess,” David continued to taunt him as Paul was at last released, his face fuming with hatred as he looked to his battle dress. Several people pointed and laughed including a few children, and when one labled him to look like someone’s mother he growled lowly stomping towards him. The crowd hushed as Paul stood before the child, looking down on him with his considerable girth. It looked like a pea against a giant and Viola narrowed her eyes about to say something when he turned and had a pained look on his face.

“Can we please lower it? This kid can see up my skirt!” Viola’s lips passed into another laugh as she looked to Paul, her face blushing as he turned to lift the kid to his shoulders and carry him to the rehearsal area, smacking David on the shoulder. He passed her just one glance, winking in it, as he walked with them and let them get their jokes in.

Erissa looked to Viola, and both passed a knowing smile that women in love knew well.

[Lillith]

The sun shone down on the newly constructed stage. Halcyon bolts illuminated the freshly cut pine, mahogany, and oaken planks. The smell of freshly cut timber was thick in the air, and all the birds in Emprea were sing in praise. Every time one of them chirped, Lillith’s head throbbed.

“Remind me to say no next time, if you ever offer me ‘a little tipple’,” she spat. She stared groggily at her sister as they clambered up the eastern stairs to the stage.

“You’ve said that at least four times in the last month,” Ruby chuckled. She turned Lillith’s attention to centre stage. She would give her sister no room to complain.

“Is that…,” Lillith began. She pointed ahead. “Is that Erissa?” Lillith cocked her head.

“I thought she was meeting Viola this morning?” Ruby said, meaning yes.

Seagulls flocked overhead as Ruby tried to piece fragments of memories together. The night before had been fuelled by karaoke from the troupe, a heavy amount of alcohol, and far too many aperitifs. She groaned, rolled her neck, and sighed.

“She’s supposed to be meeting at lunch,” Ruby whispered.

When Lillith made to approach the elf, a raised arm blocked her advance.

“Is there a problem with me saying hello?” Lillith enquired.

“Just…” Ruby hesitated. “Be careful about how we do this.”

“What on earth for?” Lillith snapped.

“Listen…what do you hear?” Ruby lowered her arm.

Lillith slumped in a rather undignified manner. Her simple black kimono shone as it rippled in the sunlight. Her piercing jade eyes traced the outline of the elf. It took her several moments to catch on, but then it struck her.

Erissa Caedron was singing a melody.

“I never knew could sing quite so…,” Lillith paused. She fought to find the appropriate word. “Eruditely.”

Ruby wrinkled her nose. Eruditely was one word for it, pitch-perfect was another.

“Does she ever stop?” In a moment of weakness, Ruby turned to her best weapon of well-placed sarcasm. “I mean, there’s dedication, and then there’s zeal.” She rested her left hand on her left hip.

“You almost sound jealous.” Lillith took Ruby by the elbow. “Come on, we don’t have time to dally. Since she is here, why not induct her into the troupe properly?”

“Yes, I guess so.” Ruby did not have much choice in the matter, by the firm grip Lillith had on her arm.

They advanced, and announced their presence with a chorus of hello.

New members of the troupe all underwent the same ritual. The men took to the road, hiking, drinking, and bonding over nature. This time, that hike took them through the wilderness of Emprea’s primal geography. At that precise moment, Duffy and the generals were somewhere out in the eucalyptus groves, arid plains, and strange granite crags a little worse for wear.

The women took to the stage to relax away a hangover. They would often relax it away by drinking considerably more than they had the night before. It allowed them the time to be the women they longed to be – bitchy, without reprisal. If, just this once, that bitchiness had to involve another, neither really felt obliged to object.

“Erissa, what brings you to rise at this ungodly hour?” Lillith asked.

The elf seemed to gasp, splutter, and yelp all at the same time. Her song, harmonious, radiant, and wondrous abruptly stopped. It echoed on in the cavernous expanse of the Empyrean courtyard that fronted the stage. The cobblestones, fountains, and whispery trees shone and danced as the notes washed over them.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I…” She pushed herself upright, whirled on a heel, and faced her mentors with a dumbfounded expression.

Ruby and Lillith stopped about a hundred feet away, arm in arm, and did what came naturally to them. They both burst into raucous laughter that penetrated the cotton clouds overhead.

“Is there something on my face?” Erissa pouted.

Lillith guffawed.

“Not at all Erissa,” Lillith said through gasps for air. She picked out the detail on the large, puffy costume the elf was wearing. “We weren’t expecting to see you in your costume so soon.”

Ruby had to cover her mouth to stifle her own laughter.

Erissa pouted twice as hard. The scaly, shimmering, and well-stitched naga costume rippled as her telekinesis raged in contempt. She stomped a delicate heel onto the wood.

“If you two are going to be mean to me, do it elsewhere!” She turned on the heavy heel and folded her arms over her chest.

Her chiffon and valance trail turned with her, testament to the elf’s ability to bring cloth to life. She made a mental note to shout at Duffy for choosing this ridiculous role for her.

“We always come to the stage after a pre-opening celebration. It is our way.” She pointed at Ruby, who, after looking between elf, assassin, and the navy blue sky, nodded in agreement.

“It’s a tradition of ours. We come to drink, bitch, and moan.” Ruby’s simpler way of putting it eased Erissa’s confusion.

“We didn’t expect you to be here.” Lillith pointed at Erissa’s masterwork. “Especially not in costume.” Her soft geta padded against the freshly sawn wood as she advanced in earnest. Her smile, though pained with a hangover, was sincere enough.

“Well.” Erissa pouted and rested her hands on her hips. “I am, so what are you going to do about it, hmm?” She cocked her head. She had learnt, very quickly, about how to manage the fiery tempers of the troupe’s wily female duo.

Ruby produced a slender, elfin bottle from beneath the sash about her waist. It shone with a light that transcended beauty, which only grew in intensity when she brought it up to the daylight. From the look on Lillith’s face, and the churning in Ruby’s stomach, it took many centuries of consumption for it to become an acquired taste.

“What we’re going to do, my dear, is drink this gin.” She sat where she stood, and crossed her legs beneath the flow of her dress.

Lillith sat next to her, and gestured for Erissa to sit opposite so they would form a holy triangle.

“You are going to be an absolute darling, and sit there,” Ruby prodded a finger at the welcoming and splinter laden square of wood, and smiled.

Lillith continued their seemingly rehearsed speech with gusto.

“Then you’re going to have a drink with us, and we are going to comment on how fantastically beautiful your voice was just now.” Lillith’s buoyant enthusiasm drifted away with the breeze when she caught the tempest glare from her sister. “Well, I am, in any respect.”

“I can’t promise such kindness from me, Erissa. I am a jealous woman. ” Ruby set the bottle down in front of her. “Or so Duffy would have you believe.” She looked up at Erissa and smiled warmly. There was just enough danger in her expression to give the elf pause for thought.

“But don’t let that put you off…,” Lillith added with dry enthusiasm.

Erissa, on tenterhooks, relented beneath the dual glares of her mentors. She supposed, in her kind heart, that it could not hurt to flatter them a little.

“Well,” the elf whispered as she advanced. “I suppose just this once one drink wouldn’t be entirely inappropriate.”

“One?” Ruby cocked her head, picked up the bottle, and pulled the crystal cork unceremoniously with her teeth. It popped, and she spat the stopper to the left. “Oh Erissa my dear, you have so much to learn…,” Ruby sighed. She held out the bottle at arm’s length towards the elf.

“Do you do this every time you put on a new show?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Every time,” Lillith and Ruby replied in sisterly union.

Erissa took the bottle and took a small draught of its contents. She coughed, spluttered, and felt her already sensitive head begin to spin.

“I can’t imagine your livers are pleased with you.” She shook her head and passed the bottle, as she knew was customary, to her left. She had learned one or two small graces from Jensen Ambrose that did not involve profanity.

“Oh, we live on all the same.” Ruby beamed Lillith an all-knowing smile.

“It’s been our way since the beginning, five centuries ago.” Lillith took a larger draught of the liquor from the bottle than Erissa, made no show of finding it unpleasant, and then passed it to Ruby.

“Five centuries?” Erissa asked, with reverence on her lips. She seemed impressed at the thought. “That makes me feel terribly insecure.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. If what I just heard was anything to go by, I dare say you’re quite the equal.” Ruby pursed her lips, took another swig, and passed it back to Erissa. “Which brings me to ask, since we’re ‘bonding’. Where did you learn to sing?”

“Yes, do tell!” Lillith giggled.

Ruby studied in Istien University for forty years before she remotely sounded as good as Erissa had. A few chords of heaven swiftly undid all her hard work and her degree. She was curious to say the least. At the back of her mind, she was already piecing together a jigsaw. If Erissa was as skilled as she appeared, then they could put on a spectacle with a little more ‘magic’ than the audience might expect.

[Sagequeen]

Erissa looked from Lillith to Ruby, and from Ruby to Lillith; the tail of the elf's costume twitched nervously, and she brought the bottle to her lips again, taking a slightly larger draught of the liquid within. She wiped her lips with a kerchief before again passing the bottle to Lillith, who looked at her expectantly.

“If I have any skill, it was earned during the long hours at the looms, and my father's house was my prison. You have heard the phrase, I assume, about a caged bird. I sang to comfort myself, to express the emotions buried deeply within my heart, of the things I pined for that eluded me. I have no real training in spell singing, only a book I took from my father's house before I fled it,” Erissa said quietly. “But I am no equal to the likes of you ladies; I know very little in general, and nothing about offensive spell singing. What skill I have is based in affecting the emotions and moods of others.”

The sisters passed a high-browed glance as Lillith passed Ruby the bottle, now half-full.

“No formal training?” Ruby asked incredulously. “Perhaps you should have made up a story in hopes of actually impressing us.”

“Ruby!” Lillith said. She turned to Erissa again. “So your talent is completely natural?” Erissa smiled and shrugged. “You know, I recall Duffy saying something about you taking on a three part harmony of sword singers in the Red Forest.”

“Well, I did not exactly take them on; I only countered their melody as best I could,” Erissa said, laughing a little. “If only I could find a teacher, aside from the Bards in my homeland...” the elf trailed off, before shaking her head. The ladies traded another glance, and Ruby flicked a long gray strand of hair behind her shoulder. Erissa quickly changed the subject. “I know it is not yet time for costumes, but mine requires some... concentration. That is why I decided to practice before practice. Will you please tell me what you think?” Erissa asked, standing as Lillith passed the bottle to Ruby.

The elf backed away a few paces, and shyly dropped the covering from her shoulders, revealing little more than a scrap of silk covering her front, and a frighteningly low waistband, beneath it shimmering scale. She raised her arm from her sides dramatically and slowly; as she did so, Erissa levitated from the ground, her dainty feet disappearing inside the tail of the naga. Conjuring the best mask of hatred she could upon her features, a black miasma engulfed her tattered dragon wings as they twitched and flapped.

“My natural energy,” Erissa called to them, “is white, prismatic at the edges. But I learned I could turn the color in on itself to make it appear black. I was able to defocus it into tiny particles; it does no real good other than for effect.” A black flame-like apparition flickered above her brow. The high elf began to sway her shoulders, her hips in counterpoint, and the body of the costume followed her lead, making her positively snake-like in her movement. “I try to think of the costume as an extension of myself, and-” Erissa's body flew forward, quick as a viper's strike, bringing her inches from the ladies. The high elf shrugged as her feet again met with the ground; the inky energy dissipated into nothingness. “So,” Erissa said nervously. “What do you think?”

Both ladies were stunned to a moment's silence, and Ruby inhaled more of the Ambrosia before shoving it in Erissa's face.

“I thought you were a demon, not a snake,” Ruby said, gazing off into the distance at the Troupe's approaching men. “Either way,” she shrugged as Erissa gingerly took the bottle.

“Well, Ms. Winchester, I do not pretend to have your prowess and understanding of the stage; neither can I project my voice with quite the same force as you, so that it carries to the very ends of a theater audience,” Erissa said, looking down. “I am your student, if you would bring yourself to teach such a novice.” Erissa hesitated.

“You really need to drop the act,” Ruby said matter-of-factly.

“I beg your pardon?” Erissa asked, absolutely taken aback.

“How old are you now?” Ruby asked, her keen, excruciating gaze focused on the elf, and Erissa took yet another swig of the bottle, and passed it to Lillith, the elf's eyes pleading.

“Young, by measures of both elf and men. I've not yet reached my thirtieth year,” Erissa said, sputtering from the Ambrosia. Ruby's eyes narrowed, and Lillith merely shook her head, knowing her interference was pointless.

“You'll learn quickly, Ms. Caedron, that your prissy, 'I'm so innocent and good' ways don't account for much, other than to cause suspicion and oppression.” The elf gaped at Ruby, at a loss for words; the elf nodded.

“Perhaps I shall get changed for rehersal. Ms. Conda's costume is completed and fitted already; I hope you find it to your liking,” Erissa said as she curtly stood, stumbling slightly, either from the weight of her own costume or from the Ambrosia.

There are no underwear big enough to cover this problem, Erissa thought as she paced away toward one of the many tents set up for the Troupe's rehearsal needs.

[Viola Conda]

Viola felt her blood rise as her Tetsubo crashed side to side in a violent arc, knocking a thin blade away as she spun to create a birth of a gap between her and her aggressor. With a flip of his wrist, David King’s weapon flourished back up, into her personal space where he did a lunge at her body exposed stomach. In seconds she was doubled over, breathing heavily as her wind was lost, resting her weight on the wooden club in her right hand.

“Sorry m’am, but an inelegant weapon like that has no real place against a fine blade such as Tyrfing.” David let his fingertips gently strike up against the cold, matted steel, observing the wooden pommel. There was no hilt guard on his blade, and with a flick of his wrist a wispy darkness sent red tendrils over the blade, and it was gone. David lowered his hand and the Chief Counselor took it in and rose to her feet.

“I’m out of practice,” she breathed heavily. “And you are quite skilled, Captain King. A testament to your capabilities and trust I have in you as the Captain of the Guards.” She patted the man on the back and he ran a hand through his hair, smiling to her. “And…ugh, I do not prefer this weapon for combat.” She held the weapon far from her body, lifting her eyes to glare at it with her tongue sticking out like she smelled fetid garbage.

“More or less my sentiments,” David chipped in. “Give me finesse over brute strength any day.”

“Regardless of your opinions on the weapon,” Ruby’s voice sang out from the edge of the stage, her feet sauntering forwards letting her dress swish side to side in a manner that made a few crew workers stop their tasks to gawk. She draped one arm around David, who felt a little uneasy, and looked to Viola giving her an accusatory stare pointing her finger. “It was what was used by the first Barbarian King of Emprea, and a symbol of Emprea’s might in your illustrious history as well as today!”

“It’s a freaking club,” David blurted with distaste. “I don’t see what all the rage is over such a limited tool.” Ruby shrugged as she released her hold on David and stepped up to Viola, placing comforting hands on both her shoulders.

“I think what you need is a little inspiration,” Ruby thought aloud. “You seem to be set in a particular style of fighting, and it took me a while to grasp it,”

“If by grasp it, you mean I had to tell you…” Arden’s haggard voice spoke from behind the red head. Ruby’s eyes popped open at the accusation as she turned towards the man who shrugged in his red robes approaching softly. His boots made no sounds as he walked forwards and Viola had heard he was a stealthy man, and she was certain the actors were far more than they appeared. He had more of the mannerisms of an Assassin, but she did not comment as she looked to him.

“I had it all figured out,” Ruby chastised the newcomer with a condescending tone. Arden pointed to Viola, ignoring Ruby completely.

“You fight like you are holding a ranged weapon. Like a spear or halberd. That style is ill suited to the role of a tetsubo.” Viola looked to the man and softly nodded to him, keeping her eyes on him.

“That’s right, I usually spar with a halberd,” Viola replied.

“I can tell by the way you move. You are creating far too much distance for his rapier like blade to get in and lunge. You have a zone to control that is much shorter, and you need to exude each strike with full force. Who cares if they duck or weave away? The weapon is purely based on intimidation and fear. All concepts of a person’s training go out the door when a weapon the size of their head is coming at them. And if they do block the weapon, you have the strength to weaken their resolve. Just a hammer hits a nail, well…you get the idea.”

“I suppose that’s a school of thought,” Viola muttered. “But that also exposes you and offers the enemy an opportunity to lead you by the nose. I am sorry, but I am no-“

“Berserker?” A hearty laugh filled the air, followed by the sound of heavy boots thumping on the stage. Viola knew the voice well and she tilted her head in a smile to see Paul approach her in his silly outfit. Paul Donovan’s massive body stopped before her, his eyes full of contentment as they smiled to one another. In his hands he held two small hand axes. Though both were props, the tantalum would not accept cheap knock offs for their production and insisted everyone rehearse with live weaponry. So it was Paul Donovan had a personal crafted twin set of axes; the heads of each weapon was in the visage of a wolf chomping into the mirror sheen of the polished steel.

“Ah, prompt and on time,” Ruby snapped her fingers with a smile. “Viola, meet your sparring partner!” She gestured to Paul with pride as she let her body move in a graceful manner. “If anyone can teach you to smash something, it would be that man! Arden, give Captain Donovan some sticks to fight with.”

“Tonfas,” Arden whispered under his breath. “They are called Tonfas you…” his voice became light as feather as Ruby glared to him. “Right!” he spoke louder. “Here’s your sticks Captain Donovan.” The Wolf Lord of Emprea graciously took the weapons and twirled them getting a feel before he looked to Viola as she adopted a stance with weapon held ready.

“M’am,” Paul said lowering himself into a wide stance. “You have too narrow a stance, you need to open it up more.”

“With all due respect, Captain,” the word stung the air with authority. “I believe you have yet to beat me in a sparring match. Once you do, you can teach me on proper technique.” She smiled to him, hoping she didn’t sound too much like an old woman as the Wolf Lord gave her a blank look. He shrugged, twirled his weapons, and with a howl that drew everyone’s attention he emerged forwards in a low run. Viola lifted her weapon up in a horizontal arc, her back spinning in motion to add momentum. To predictable Captain, she thought with a grin.

“Too predictable M’am,” Paul muttered loudly as he rolled forwards under the swing into a kneeling position, his weapons hitting her hip gently. She stumbled to the side in pain, wobbling as she lowered her club and balanced herself. “Try that again with a wider stance.” Paul said smartly. Viola sheepishly nodded, stepping back and nodded for him to come at her. Again he charged, and again she swung, but this time her weapon didn’t float away from her range, making a full one hundred and eighty degree arc. Paul’s body barely missed her, but with her wider stance she easily rotated to reface him, the weapon coming back to her front with both hands as she lifted it up and swung downwards.

“This won’t end well,” Arden muttered as Ruby’s eyes closed tightly, gripping David as the Captain of the Guard let out a grimace of anticipation.

“Fuck me!” Paul shouted as the tetsubo came down upon his shoulder and with a sickening crunch bone snapped and one of the tonfas dropped to the ground, clattering off the wooden stage followed by the weight of Donovan as he gripped his now very broken arm.

“Donovan!” Viola gasped dropping the weapon.

[Sagequeen]

The first great howl that thundered across the practice field grabbed the elf's attention as she shrugged out of her costume, but it was the second howl, one of pain, that quickened her pace. Erissa burst forth from the tent and jogged across the trampled, emerald grass to the stage; a circle of people pressed in on someone.

“Now what will we do?” a voice called.

“Donovan can't be in the play like this!” another cried shrilly.

“How bad is it?” came a third call above the general din of the actors and actresses.

“The Wolf Lord's injured! He can't even lift his arm!”

Erissa pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, trying to ascertain the situation.

“Everyone, just back off! Now!” came a familiar voice, that of a very pale and strained-looking Viola Conda, and Erissa rushed to her.

“Ms. Conda,” Erissa said loudly, “what has happened?” Viola hung her head at the question before taking a deep breath and sighing. Erissa saw Paul Donovan take to his knee, grimacing in pain.

“I might have gone a little overboard with that sparring match,” Viola said, shaking her head.

“Overboard?” Paul asked. “You don't say,” he said slowly, with great sarcasm.

“Well,” Viola quipped, “you're the one who told me to widen my stance!”

“Worked too well,” he said, cradling his arm against him and waving the onlookers away.

“Looks like we might have to re-write the script,” Viola said to Erissa. “I can't believe this! What a mess!” Erissa smiled at the troubled woman.

“It is no problem, Ms. Conda,” the elf chirped.

“No problem?” Viola asked incredulously. “Are you daft?”

“Not at all,” Erissa laughed. “Watch...” The high elf nodded at the woman with encouragement and flitted over to the fallen Wolf Lord. “Wow,” she said, looking back at Viola. “You really did a number on him.” Viola glared at Erissa, but the elf's attention was on Paul's crushed arm and shoulder. She met his gaze.

“You a doctor, too?” Paul asked her, masking the incredible pain searing through his body.

“Something like that,” Erissa said, chuckling lightly. “You will not feel a thing,” she added with a sly smile. The high elf closed her eyes and, her hands hovering over the man's shoulder, focused her will and began mending bone, sinew, and flesh. Within moments, Paul's shoulder had regained its shape; after a minute more, the wound was entirely healed. He looked at Erissa in shock and, hopping to his feet, rotated his arm in disbelief.

“Good as new,” he said with wonder. Viola's mouth hung open and Erissa nodded to her, smiling.

“No problem!” the elf said. “On with the show!” Murmurs spread through the crowd like ripples on water, and before long, the entire company was abuzz with excitement over the event. It was not until Duffy called them to attention with his powerful voice that the chatter died and the actors and actresses again turned their attention to the play. Ruby took over directing them again, and Duffy hobbled over to Erissa, leaning heavily on his cane.

“It's a shame you can't do the same for me,” he sighed.

“There was never a wound I could not heal,” Erissa said, shaking her head, “until yours.” He laughed wistfully and was about to speak, but his attention was diverted to a nearby duo of actors who were rehearsing their lines, and poorly.

“No, no, no!” Duffy said hobbling toward them. Erissa laughed as he went into his spiel on the finer points of inflection and how it reflects the thoughts of a character. She listened carefully, however, hoping to pick up tips from a master since she, too, would be gracing the stage as a novice. Lost in her thoughts, she was abruptly pulled from them when she felt a hand on her upper arm. Erissa's head whipped around, and before her was Viola, looking considerably better than she had earlier.

“I wanted to thank you,” Viola said sheepishly. “That was... impressive.” The woman looked at Erissa more closely. “What exactly do you do with the Ixian Knights? Are you just a diplomat?”

“Oh, no,” Erissa said, shaking her head. “As it happens, I am something of a warrior, if you could call it that,” the elf laughed. “I have braved the Red Forest, stood toe-to-toe with one of the Forgotten and lived.” Viola smiled slightly at her, intrigued at the notion of the diplomat before her also employed as a fighter. “But to tell you the truth, Ms. Conda, I just try not to get killed. I admittedly have a little help with that.” Erissa caught herself quickly before mentioning Jensen Ambrose's name, recalling Duffy's warning.

“Maybe you could tell me about some of your adventures later,” Viola said, her eyes darting to Paul Donovan as he sparred. Erissa followed the direction of the woman's gaze, and quick glance into her memories revealed something rather surprising: she loved him, but she would not be with him. The elf briefly wondered if that same wistfulness was plastered on her own face when she thought about him. Erissa quickly shook the thoughts from her mind. Now was definitely not the time.

“I would like that very much,” Erissa said. “Just call on me when you wish.”

“I'll do that,” Viola said. “And thank you again, Erissa.”

[Duffy]

The rehearsal unravelled quickly. Duffy tried to maintain order but swiftly lost the attention of the Empyrean novices. The more they became involved with the emotive scenes, the more they inflected every line with their own ideas about love, war, and heroism. Before long, there was more free-form than script, and the so called great bard had to adapt and re-write each page so many times he called for a scribe to transcribe a clean copy.

Ruby amused herself by taking delight in the bard’s growing frustration. She sat on a crate to the left of the stage, surveying the unfolding chaos with her sisters.

“He really doesn’t like people deviating from his plan, does he,” she said. When Lillith did not object or sound a reply, she rolled her eyes. “You can say something, you know?”

“Is she normally this…subdued?” Erissa enquired, leaning forwards from her own box to look around the assassin’s ample bosom. She had grown used to the tailor wiles and fashionista rambles. The strange silence was new to the elf, and unnerving.

“Well…” Ruby pursed her lips, brought her glass to them, and sipped the gin with lady-like vigour. The almond liquor revitalised her. Even as the sun began to set over the strange land, she felt a familiar, altogether wholesome feeling. Something great was happening here, even if Duffy could not get to grips with it. “The only time Lillith keeps her mouth shut is when she expects somebody to die.”

Erissa frowned.

“You’re maudlin’ this evening, Ruby,” she said. She used another of the troupe’s turns of phrase. She had to use the dictionary in the Empyrean Library to educate herself to its meaning, but it seemed appropriate enough.

“The death can be metaphorical, Miss Caedron, you’ve no need to worry there,” Ruby chuckled. The sun cast a golden glow over the busy stage. “My sister once spent an entire summer mute because the fashion trend she started in Radasanth followed her like a bad stench.”

“What trend in particular?” Erissa asked absent-minded. She was not sure if this was a serious note, or yet another light-hearted attempt at ‘humour’.

“Knickerbockers.”

All three of them burst into raucous laughter.

“Oh alright, I give in. I was just trying to think of a way to give Duffy a rest,” Lillith clucked.

She clicked her neck back and forth and stretched her aching limbs. The ardour of the long rehearsals leading up to the day of the play was beginning to take its toll on mortal and immortal alike.

“But…,” Erissa began; before she realised cutting Lillith would be a grave mistake. “Sorry, go on.” She leant back onto the box, pressed her delicate palms against the grain, and watched the players exchanging pulled punches and feinted strikes with wooden swords.

“We’ve little time for this now,” Ruby moaned. Soon they would return to the stage for the closing act.

“He’s going all out to make them try and be something they’re not. We told him it’d be a little different to putting on a Royal rehearsal in the city,” Lillith sighed. “But he was so blinded by having something to do again after his,” she took a sharp intake of breath, “accident, that neither of us had the heart to object.”

“Ah,” Erissa said softly.

She remembered their earlier discussion about white mana, healing, and the nature of his injuries. She had discussed it with Jensen, over many a whiskey, brotherly bawl, and a family-like need to understand what drove the Immortal.

“It’s a problem we’ve yet to solve,” Ruby mused.

“Yes, I expect this is…,” Erissa glanced across the stage to the bard, “difficult.”

“That’s just the half of it,” Ruby added, as if no solitary member of the troupe deserved such sympathy. This was, after all, a group affair. “It’s testing, trying, and torturing. I’m sorry,” she continued, glancing around Lillith, “for the little outburst a while back.” Her soft grey eyes shone with an earnest truth.

“Sorry?” Erissa furrowed her perfect brow. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry for my little outburst earlier about natures and prissy attitudes and innocence,” Ruby clarified. She took another hefty swig from the glass of Ambrosia.

Erissa thought long and hard about her reply. She watched Viola and Derik, one of the younger captains exchange a brief bout of blows.

“There’s no need to apologise, Ruby. People sometimes find it difficult to not speak their mind.” A trial the elf was finding very hard to resist herself of late. “No hard feelings,” she said, appropriating another of the Tantalum’s colloquialisms.

Ruby slipped from the crate, downed the remnants of her glass, set it down with a loud thump, and stretched. Lillith followed suite, and seeing herself as ‘one of the girls’, Erissa did so too.

“The truth is not an excuse to wound another,” Lillith interjected, though she said the phrase in Akashiman first, to reflect it's poignancy. “Let us all learn from this…strange scenario.” With a flick of her wrists, she produced a tanto, red sheath ablaze in the last dying rays of sunlight, and pointed to centre stage.

“That is precisely why this production is based on a gigantic lie!” Ruby said raucously as she advanced, heels spiking on the floorboards, towards the group. Her steps were perfectly in time with Duffy’s cane as it was driven downwards, sounding out the tempo for the next sword fighting sequence.

Erissa watched the long streaks of grey hair and toned thighs depart the group. Ruby was almost as troubling as Duffy was, and twice as troubling as Jensen and Sei. She frowned again, endangering her beauty with signs of age. She followed a few steps behind Lillith.

“Is she always so flippant?” she asked the assassin.

“Always,” Lillith replied.

“You put up with it?”

“It’s what we sisters do.” Lillith paused for dramatic effect. Erissa’s eyes widened further.

“We do?” she asked, jumping to the correct conclusion about her inclusion into the troupe.

“You’ve passed the interview with flying colours.” Lillith waved a hand over the costume Erissa had made.

The elf squealed with delight.

“Now,” Lillith smirked. “Let’s see if you can act!”

[Viola Conda]

There was a grouping of candle lights in the oval office of the Active Chief Counselor. She prepared many folders and had several servants rush back and forth with supply folders, minerals, wealth and other necessities required for trade. The Emprean Counselor rubbed her nose, wishing that Chancellor Freya would have been handling these negotiations. The older woman was far better to the ebb and flow of treaties and could ride their currents like a master sailor on sea. Still, it was a challenge she couldn’t ignore.

Her thoughts drifted to earlier in the day when she broke Paul’s arm, seeing the healing magic of the so called ‘diplomat’ of the Ixian Knights. Erissa Caedron was not a woman to take lightly any longer, and treat her with the due respect she earned. Though, with a sheepish grin she admitted healing the person she had feelings for went a long way in that endeavor.

The door echoed the rapping of knuckles as Viola’s eyes quickly looked to the wood, as if she could see through it, though at this late hour she could imagine who it was. “Let her in, Captain King,” Viola shouted.

The door opened and David King entered the room to offer a swift military salute before turning back to welcome the Elf into the room with a casual smile before he turned back to Viola. “Is there anything you require of me, M’am?” David lingered the question as he lifted a sly hand towards his pocket.

“I take it you have a rematch against Donovan tonight?” Viola sarcastically motioned her commander away. The Captain nodded with a grin as he twirled an object out of his pockets, tossing it in the air and smiling to himself as he snatched it with deft hands. “Donovan will learn that my Freezing Djinn doesn’t lose often, and when I do, I get motivated…” he spoke with an air of mystery, before smiling and leaving to go play his card game with the Captain of the Line.

“Those two…not nearly as bad as Jonothan and him, but still…” Viola muttered as she sat in her chair, feeling her muscles relax within the confines of her one luxury she allowed herself in her tenure as Chief Counselor. Erissa merely smiled with a cocked eyed look, unsure of what she just witnessed. Viola waved a passing hand, dismissing it entirely before gesturing the Elf to sit. “It’s a silly card game that my officer’s play in their off hours. My Heroes of Emprea are a rather competitive lot, and Captain King likes to be challenged and threatened so he can enjoy the fight. Usually he embarks in games of Chess with Captain Andrews, a rivalry that has echoed to their troops; Guard versus House Knights. Does wonders for Moral though, I admit.”

“And this card game?” Erissa asked innocently taking the proffered seat. Viola shrugged again.

“Well, that’s more of a Donovan and King thing from childhood, and the game isn’t wildly picked up and the Guard usually clean house so it’s not exactly a fair way to compete against one another.” Erissa nodded as Viola looked to her, smiling. “Thank you again, by the way, for healing my Captain of the Line.”

“It was nothing, Chief Counselor,” Erissa said, cheeks turning red. “I would do that for any of your soldiers .” Viola smiled.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Viola looked to the paperwork and talked with Erissa a bit of how to work out their treaty and negotiations. The Elf pulled out a small slender envelope of cream color, her eyes glancing at the figures and the wealth of Sei and what he offered as tribute to work with. He was detailed in every manner, it seemed, of what he valued as fair trade to work with Emprea, including the stipulations of the alliance should it come to that. It seemed Sei was more in a position to welcome Emprea to him, and that he was earnestly interested a peaceful, wellbeing between them.

Viola had countered with many concerns detailed by her own King and court. The charge of Carthage, aided by the Ixian’s foolishness in a blind trap was not enough to simply wash away with a play offering. Erissa spoke kindly, offering apologies, and that while Sei would never diminish lives to wealth of trade, he understands that compensations from families may arise, and that he was prepared to pay them. Viola was impressed however, that the man was willing to pay them regardless of success or failure.

Not wishing to open old wounds, they countered offered items to set up a trade. It was all part of the great game of negotiating. Was it a fair deal the other offered? Did one offer far too much, and thus was seen weak trying desperately to gain an ally? If the trade deal was sealed and agreeable without much bickering and bartering, then it showed a mutual understanding. This led to the next phase of a full blown alliance. Erissa kept her poise and grace throughout the whole procedure, and Viola remained forceful and diligent on issues she needed resolution to.

It went on for nearly four hours of back and forth talking, including the occasional heated argument as both did not see eye to eye on certain aspects. Viola was, first and foremost, a military advisor. She saw to the needs of her own estates and King first, and had no desire to march with the Ixian’s in wars meant to establish peace in foreign lands. Erissa, ever the peacemaker, had almost lost her poise when Viola had chastised the Ixians for not having a stronger military. They had cultural differences, as well as mindsets that vastly differed, but in the end it was never enough to upset the other to a point of calling off the dealings.

In the late night hours, Viola wearily wiped her eyes. She poured herself and Ms Caedron a glass of water, and they toasted to at least getting this far. They remained silent for a moment, smiling a bit at the progress made, before Viola felt her thoughts begin to wander towards her usual topic of interest.

“What do you think about most, Erissa?” the woman asked, her black haired ponytail freed as it cupped her face. She freed the strands a bit, loosening them with clawed hands before raking them back behind her ears, her blue eyes searching the elf. “What is the topic that invades your mind the most?”

There was softness in the question, and Erissa coughed lightly before gaining courage and sitting forwards. “There is…someone I know. A man, who…occupies my time at moments,” she admitted. Viola looked to the time, saw it was past midnight, and pulled open a drawer and grabbed two tumbler glasses, blowing into them before dropping one glass in front of the Elf, and one in front of herself. She then pulled a fine clear bottle out, and with her teeth bit the cork and tugged. With a pop followed by the chugging noises of liquid ale being poured, Viola spoke.

“I normally do not drink. Not to excess at least. I find it gives me bad heartburn in the night hours. However, in my travels I read a book once. It was from Dunland, a nation up north from here on the opposite sides of the mountains. A diplomatic mission I had sent David King on when he was just getting used to his role. He returned with this bottle, and a book and asked me to read it.”

Viola reached into her drawer, and pulled out a thin, weak edged paper binding of a book, golden leaf on the cover that read, The Princess and the Wanderer. Viola looked to it, before smiling. “David loved that book, and Donovan did as well, but it was…esoteric, I suppose I should say. Not to my usual likings. The main protagonist was a colorful character, but the drink he enjoyed was a scotch. There was much, much talk about the drink, the smoothness and the like, and this particular Scotch we drink is called Wanderer in honor of this fabled character. Some say he was a knight, some say a drunk, there’s really no definition to him, but the point is, I drew myself in enough to decide to try the drink.”

They chinked glasses and drank. With a sip Viola smiled, feeling the tingling buzz as it warmed her throat all the way down to her stomach. “If the author did one thing right, he showed me the fine value of a good scotch after a long day. And any day with Ruby Winchester…”

“Is a long day,” the Elf muttered finishing her sentence, sipping at the drink again. Viola and Erissa met gazes, before erupting into a fit of giggles as they relaxed a bit more in their seats. Viola sipped her again, and in a show of the most girlish thing she had ever done, crossed her legs upwards and sat her whole body in the chair.

“It’s…not easy for me to let guards down, but I feel Erissa, for the betterment of both our interests, we try things that we’re not usually comfortable with. So…let’s…is it gossip?” Viola wondered loudly. Erissa cracked a grin a stifled giggle before nodding. Viola smiled to her. “So, then tell me, Erissa Caedron, of the one who stalks your mind like a wolf in the night?” She smiled devilishly to the elf as she sipped her drink again, feeling the effects hit her far faster than she liked.

But it was just as the book described. Smooth, full of character, and all the better at night with a good companion.

[Sagequeen]

Oh, Thaynes be kind...

Of all the questions that Viola Conda could have asked at that very moment, she asked the one question Erissa did not want to answer. Buying herself some time, the high elf sipped the scotch, the taste of it bringing the remembrance of a grimy, old tavern and a chipped glass.

And of Jensen Ambrose, a veritable pariah in the small country of Emprea, the very mention of whose name could earn a person a trip to the healer, or if the wrong person were offended, a trip to the morgue. He was certainly not someone Erissa wanted to mention just as diplomatic negotiations were going so well.

“Oh,” Erissa choked and cleared her throat, the scotch burning down her throat and assaulting her heightened senses, “a boorish rogue of a man.”

“You say man. He’s a human, I take it?” Viola asked, a curious smile gracing her lips.

“Yes.” Erissa blinked calmly, her face on the brink of cracking, though she hid it well.

“How interesting. He must be quite a man to catch the eye of an elf, and one so lovely as yourself. Your kind lives for ages, and we... well, we don’t.”

“That is correct,” Erissa said, and pressed her lips together so tightly her cheeks ached.

“Is something wrong?” Viola asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh, no. Nothing at all,” Erissa assured her. “I, ah... I am not talented at this gossip thing, I am afraid. But the scotch is excellent!” Viola laughed, a beautiful sound.

“Well, you could start by telling me his name, what he’s like! It will never leave this room, on my honor.”

“His name,” Erissa stuttered, “y-you would not know him. He, ah, tends to keep a low profile.” The elf winced inwardly at the lie before an incessant and absolutely inappropriate giggle threatened to squeak from her throat. Another sip of the scotch cured her of it. “But yes, a rogue of a man. Tall, dark-haired, smoldering eyes, and handsome.. a body that could make any woman with working eyes swoon.” Erissa paused, a playful smile on her lips. “And the biggest jerk I have ever met. I swear, if we had not been thrown together by fate, neither of us would have given the other a third glance. But, there we were, alone in the wilderness. There has never been anyone in my life who could... get under my skin like he could. So crass, so assuming, and so obviously trying - and succeeding - to, to piss me off! Just because! But my gracious was he a fierce warrior, and,” Erissa realized she was rambling, and she blushed. Viola was on the edge of her seat, intent in the elf’s words as she sipped her drink.

“And?”

“He is my Knight in black leather," she said, eyes shining and oblivious to the looseness of her tongue. "He swore an oath of protection, and he is one of the few in my years who has not betrayed me. That means so much to me. And...” Erissa giggled, “he can be incredibly charming in the oddest and most uncouth ways. This sounds silly, I know, and contradictory to almost everything I just said, but given the chance, I would not change a thing about him.” Her girlish smile betrayed her as her mind wandered.

“You love him, that much is obvious,” Viola offered with a sly grin, her eyes intense. “So why aren't the two of you together?”

“Love?!?” Erissa stammered. “Oh, surely not. I mean, why would I... what reason would I even have...” She deflated completely with a heavy sigh, sinking back into her chair. “I honestly do not know what happened between us.”

“Isn't that the way of it,” Viola said, leaning back in her chair again.

“And now, he is avoiding me as if...” Erissa paused, careful in the way she finished the sentence. The elf was sure Jensen was afraid she would see something in his memory he did not want her to see, and another thing Viola Conda could not know was that the Ixian Knight’s diplomat could read memories.

“As if nothing ever happened,” Viola finished.

“Something like that,” the elf said with veiled relief. “Though he does take care to see that I am not sent on dangerous missions. I am relegated to message running, supply detail, counselor, castle medic, and the like. You must realize how pleased I was to come here, another of his 'suggestions' and by far the best.”

“So he is also an Ixian Knight?”

“Y-yes,” Erissa said quickly, realizing her slip.

"You know," Viola laughed, "for some reason I'm reminded of the infamous Jensen Ambrose. He would fit that bill pretty well, but," she said, an eyebrow arched, "I can't imagine how that man could ever appeal to someone as refined and dignified as yourself. But you did say your mysterious man was charming, something that imbecile is not." Erissa's mouth twitched; it took all she had not to launch herself into a defense of him. She forced a laugh, nodding too vigorously.

“And what about you? Is there no man in your life?” Erissa hoped the change of subject would hold. It was Viola’s turn to be caught off her guard.

“Oh,” she sputtered, taking another sip of her scotch, “I guess you could say yes and no.” Viola’s eyes sparkled for the briefest of moments. “But no most importantly.”

“I knew it,” Erissa said, smiling. “I have seen the way you look at him.” Viola’s eyes widened and she set down her glass. “Nothing leaves the room, remember? That goes for me as well, on my honor.” Erissa tried to soothe Viola, but the woman was obviously unsettled.

“No need to name names,” Viola said sharply, eyeing the elf. “You see much, Erissa Caedron.”

“So I have been told,” the elf said. “But perhaps I only see it because I also feel something much like it. Does he feel the same for you?” Viola only nodded in affirmation. “Then, if I may, I pose the same question to you: why are the two of you not together?”

“My duty comes first,” Viola said plainly. “The safety and well-being of my people is far more important than my personal affairs.” Erissa shook her head, not understanding.

“But could you not have both?”

“No.”

“Why?"

"Because any distraction in my vigil over Emprea is a weakness our enemies can exploit."

"But Viola, you have the best of the best of your country around you, to help with the burden. Can you not also have a little happiness yourself?"

"There is not time for such things," Viola said, a twinge of regret in her voice.

"Then make time," Erissa pressed. "Love makes us all stronger."

"Yes, and I love my country and my people," Viola remarked, taking another sip of the scotch. Erissa shook her head, the buzz of the alcohol affecting her more than she would have liked.

"It must be difficult," the elf sighed, pity in her eyes, "to have love at your fingertips and to be unable to grasp it." Viola's eyes narrowed.

"That, Erissa, is you. You cannot grasp it. You have all the freedom in the world, one day a diplomat, the next a message runner, an adventurer, or whatever else you happen to fancy at that moment. But the one thing you want, you can't have." Viola took a long draw from her scotch and set the empty glass on the table. "We're different, you and I, because I can grasp it, but I choose not to, for the sake of every last person in this land. Every day I live, I am the protector of Emprea." The words stung, as often words do when they are the truth, and Erissa set her glass on the desk.

"I just do not understand why you would give up love, when it is right in front of you.” The elf's gaze dropped to the ground, lost in her own thoughts for a moment.

“Perhaps one day, Ms. Caedron, you will have the burden of caring for a nation. And may you not be so flippant about it then.”

The cold, uncomfortable silence weighed heavily between them.

“I am sorry, Ms. Conda,” Erissa offered, “for-”

“I believe we have gossiped enough for one night. Rest well.” Viola rose from her chair suddenly, and on a second thought grabbed the book and the scotch. "And may you dream as sweetly as I do," she said softly as she passed the door frame.

Erissa hung her head, chastising herself for letting her emotions get the best of her, and for possibly compromising the budding alliance.

[Duffy]

The Day Of The Play

“Weeks of planning leading up to this golden moment,” Duffy said longingly.

After what seemed like an age to the Empyrean army, the play was finally ready. In just a few precious hours, the curtains would rise, and with it, if all went to plan, the spirits of a country. Duffy could only stand, silent, and wishful. When he had departed Corone weeks before, he had been sceptical that he, or indeed, that any of the troupe could really make a difference here.

“How wrong I was…,” he whispered, careful not to let slip his doubts to the troupe.

“Sorry?” Ruby turned on a quick heel, her ears burning.

Duffy looked at her, smiled, and rested forwards on his cane. He did not attempt to hide the fact that he had said something.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said wistfully. “I was just thinking aloud.”

“No time,” she snapped.

She ushered him to the stage right stairway and down into the changing area. She moved with such speed and force that the moment Duffy came to a standstill, his leg burst into metaphorical flame. He limped, with anguish, to sit on the edge of a packing crate. When he sat, he felt a sudden release, and then it dawned on him he had not stopped since the sun had risen some nine hours prior.

“There’s always time, Ruby. Just give me a,” he stopped mid-sentence when he caught her glare. She had stopped mid-stride and her nostrils were flaring. “Forget I aid anything,” he continued.

“Everybody in the stage area, please listen to me!” she roared. A minuet of echoing melody filled the courtyard. Golden threads of light fell from her lips as ancient power gave her command levity.

Silence fell across the wooden palisades, the empty stalls, and the sunny skies of Emprea’s hearth. Birds scattered, winds ceased, and potential turned to gold in the moisture-laden air.

“Curtains up in one hour!” This fact caused panic amongst the stagehands, tailors, and actors alike.

“Oh good,” the bard mumbled.

He produced a hip flask from within the folds of his jacket, and with far too much relish, even for an alcoholic, he tipped some of the contents onto his tongue. Oak, smoke, and bourbon mash gave him meaning again.

“I can sit down for five minutes,” he mumbled, making sure this time Ruby could not hear his discontent.

In one hour, Duffy’s part to play in this debacle would be over. It was the director’s role to oversee production, casting, and the rehearsal. The split-second the curtains rose he could rid his hands of it. Whatever went awry after that would not be on his head. No broken nail or stumbled line could diminish his accomplishments.

Ruby appeared at his side, seemingly in tune with his misery.

“Duffy, you've done a fantastic job here.” Which was an understatement, but Duffy knew Ruby’s praise was short lived at best, “So for Thayne’s sake, go and fucking relax!” Duffy looked up to smile. He let his cane drop to his side. It rolled against the edge of the crate.

“The show must go on…,” he said hoarsely. He was beyond hope.

He tipped the rest of his flask onto his tongue with the sort of genius borne anguish that tended to find its home in the world of dramaturgy. Ruby gave him one last trusting look before she flew away to her stitches, songs, and soliloquies.

[Viola Conda]

“If one could trace their lineage of a long ago history; root it through the ebb and flow of time, through the stream of life, and let its rapid waters grow your family tree, then the whole of Emprea could possibly trace itself to the roots of Heroes long ago: From mighty Fenris, to cunning Pavonis, to lithe Aspen, to stoic Caliban, to sly Cadia; a legacy of heroes who stood before the precipice of the darkness and cast forth a light so bright it extinguished the flames of the demons, routing them from these lands forever.

“Emprea’s History is a lesson of strength within oneself, and faith in the hope of a new day; a brighter day! And through these tales one truly may, if they find the courage, learn they too can aspire to be a hero!”

The audience of the Emprean theatre remained silent as Duffy captivated them with words, his oratory as the Narrator giving him the due respect of the honored role. The royal court, sitting upon a raised dais protected by several house guards and royal knights, was elevated to be at equal level with the thespian. The lower and middle class all shared the same seats with the nobility, and no seat was reserved in advanced, but tickets had long sold out. It was agreed upon by Duffy that in order to truly make the audience see their own virtues then they had to sit as one regardless of rank, title, or heritage, the strength of Emprea was unified by its people; all of them. They looked down upon the stage, the lights focusing upon the man as he lifted a hand upwards, drawing them in.

“Duty!” he roared, his hand gesturing to the mighty soldiers standing sentinel. “The tangible goals we set upon ourselves to ensure the betterment of ourselves. The knowledge and understanding that everything one does is with purpose to king,” his land lifted to the royal podium. “Country,” he lowered it to the masses. “And self!” he finished pointing to his own person.

“Honor,” he said with reverence. “It is the very definition of the ideal in the good of man. The affirmation to uphold oneself to a higher code of ethics despite the great troubles one must face. To look every obstacle in the eye and have the strength of self to overcome based upon their laurels. To act with humility, and grace, and fight with strength and courage!”

“Pride!” he shouted loudly to the amphitheater. “It is the word that describes the noble ideals of any man! His demeanor, his morals, and his very essence are defined in the convictions he holds true to his heart!” Each word he punctuated by hitting the small railing of his little podium, before grasping his heart, as if to rip it out and offer it freely to them to see his own mettle.

The crowd watched him with awe; no sounds came save the muffled sounds of shifting bodies. Everyone was captivated by the leader of the Tantalum as he smiled brightly to the good people of Emprea. When he felt the tension peak, he spoke again with the seriousness of a man who not only knew the truth, but would die to prove it.

“Duty, Honor, and Pride,” he said, suppressing the grin as several of the soldiers echoed those three words. He looked to the seal of the nation of Emprea, held aloft behind the throne of the King Horus. He was a giant of man with wild red hair, and his evening robes seemed to be too tight for his massive physique that put even the mighty Wolf Lord to shame. Duffy bowed to him respectfully, and lifted a hand for the king to finish the code of Emprea’s soldiery; the words each warrior speaks to transition from a citizen of Emprea, to a protector of Emprea. The king stood, understanding dramatic flair, or simply caught up in the theatrics of it all, but he lifted his hands up, his cape fluttering in the soft wind as his voice boomed over the crowd.

“THIS IS WHAT MAKES EMPREA GREAT!”

There was a roar of approval from the citizens of Emprea, cheers and applause as Duffy shrank and vanished from his podium to hide backstage. Viola looked to the man as he hobbled as fast as he could to get to the other side, the high of the emotions of pride masking his vanishing act and setting him up for the second podium where he would introduce Erissa’s character. The elf was already in her first of three outfits she would wear in the coming hours, and Viola nodded to her as she checked her outfit one last time.

She turned to see her heroes of Emprea all beam with pride, each one grinning brightly and eager to uphold the honor of Emprea and perform their duty to recruit as many people as possible. Viola smiled to them, giving them silent thanks for their efforts over the past weeks as she prepared for her spot to run in and save Rachel when the demon became too powerful for her.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Duffy roared into the crowd, whose voices raised again as the cheering thundered in the backroom. “The Tantalum and the Heroes of Emprea, in association with the Ixian Knights present: The History of Emprea!”

[Sagequeen]

I am the Lhamian Demon, terrifying and powerful, Erissa thought as she attempted to bolster herself in the face of horrid stage fright. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely read the lines carefully scribed on it. Though the people were quiet, the inevitable ambiance of a filled theater, coughs and shifting paper, babies’ piercing cries and the occasional muttering, filtered through to the wings where the high elf waited. She looked down at her costume, a few strategically placed strips of silk that, to her, seemed more fit for a bedroom than a stage. Her skin was somewhat covered in painted makeup to resemble a snake's scales.

“Imagine them in their underwear,” she mocked. “I might as well; so am I!”

“What was that?” Ruby asked, her demeanor completely changed. The woman was a tempest who somehow managed, in her harried presence, to order the chaos backstage instead of creating it.

“Nothing,” Erissa said, a weak smile on her face. Ruby readjusted the elf’s silk costume without regard to what it covered.

“Don’t want you popping out,” she said lightly, “though that might inspire more than a few soldiers.” She gave Erissa a wry smile. “Remember: you are an enchantress, a temptress, and there are none that can stand before you! Now, go break a leg.” And with that, the silver-haired actress was off again to make last minute preparations. Erissa looked apprehensively after her as she reviewed the blocking with a group of extras.

Duffy’s fiery narrative was drawing to a close, and Erissa took several steps forward, just out of the sight of the crowd. It was time for her grand entrance among the gently rolling hills, bespeckled with wildflowers, and lovely trees, green and thriving. Every last piece of it was made with painted wood, cloth, and thick paper, and she felt equally as counterfeit as the set. Regardless, Erissa stepped forward in the gait she had practiced in her room during the hours at night she could not manage sleep.

Each step was deliberate, beguiling in its painfully enrapturing slowness, and her head began a sonorous sway that undulated through her body with serpentine flair. A faint, dark mist wreathed the demon enchantress and languidly trailed behind her. She cast a haughty glance at the lands around her, then out across the audience, her eyes passing above them as if surveying a tranquil valley.

The demon grinned and raised a slender arm toward a tree nearby. To the gasps of the audience, it immediately caught fire, propelled by cloth leave that were soaked in a mildly combustible liquid.

“This land will burn, will writhe with glorious suffering at the hand of my master,” she seethed, her voice amplified and menacing. The land depicted behind her began to smolder and the wisps of smoke rose quickly in the cool evening air. The acrid quality of it as it drifted among the people gave substance to the effigy on stage. The enchantress began a spell-song, an eerie lay that evoked despair and fright in all who heard it, sending ripples of apprehension through the crowd.

“The Lhamian Demon approaches!” Duffy’s clear voice rang across droves of the enthralled, “She burns and kills in the name of corruption, without regard to gender or age! Who will stand against her might? Who, in the name of duty and honor, will rise up against this cruel threat to humanity?” On cue, a small cadre of soldiers charged onto the stage, weapons at the ready. Erissa faltered; the flames grew unexpectedly and the heat of them scorched her through the makeup that covered her arm. She glanced behind her, keeping in character as she bellowed with raucous laughter. In the wings, the elementalists quietly calmed the flames that threatened to spread to the curtain and create a very real disaster.

“Is this the best that this land can muster?” the enchantress demanded. The first of the heroes, dressed in shining armor, gave a fierce war cry before he dashed at her. The demure figure bent forward slightly, bringing her fingers to her mouth. She blew him a kiss, the flickering black mist enveloping it as it floated toward him. The miasma encircled his armored head like a dark halo, and he stopped in his tracks, just feet away from the temptress. The soldier’s sword and shield dropped to the ground with an ominous clatter, and he dropped to his knees, shuffling forth in pitiful supplication.

“Please, Mistress,” he cried, his voice a lament of desire. The Lhamian Demon caressed his cheeks lovingly, sending a shudder of enrapturement through him. A moment later, she gripped his head and lifted him from the ground. He thrashed violently, but his blows were nothing but an annoyance to her. A hellish scream tore from the demon's throat as her mouth gaped open. From his face, frozen in horror, a blinding light commenced, presumably the man’s soul. The temptress drank it in, then dropped his lifeless body to the floor.

“Great gods!” a man cursed softly from the wings, “how does she do that?”

“Pffft,” his fellow thespian replied. “It’s all smoke and mirrors.”

“No,” a third whispered. “She’s telekenetic, and she can control energy, or at least I heard someone say. That on top of healing that ‘Wolf Lord,’ or some such thing.”

“That’s unnatural,” grumbled the first man, and the second shrugged as they watched Erissa’s display with great interest.

On stage, Erissa spoke in a voice enhanced by her spell singing and raised her arms. At her malicious command, the energy around her become thicker, and it pulsed as she reveled in a seductive dance. The men, by ones and twos, were drawn to her dance of death as moths to a flame, and they were engulfed by her sickly-sweet aura. With her paper-mache claws, she dispatched each with a wicked thrash, the bloody scene augmented by bladders of thick red liquid, popped and sprayed at perfectly timed junctures.

Those who were stronger-willed remained, and they charged the demon in full force. Her haze-like energy enveloped them and befuddled their senses. Two of the men began viciously fighting each other. Erissa twirled fleetly aside one of the blades in the thicket of them trained on her. She passed among them as water through river rocks and grabbed the hilt of the blade in her spin. Before the disarmed man could move, she was behind him. The demon relished as she cut across his belly and spilled his guts down to his thighs.

That looks entirely too real, Erissa thought distractedly as she watched the entrails of gods knew what animal leak from the ruptured pouch concealed in his costume. The soldiers wheeled around to face her again, and as they had rehearsed countless times, engaged in a melee that saw the elf parry with speed and skill exaggerated by their slow movements.

By the end of it, the demon had two swords, and a pile of bodies lay at her feet. She shouted her victory for all to hear. The crowd hissed and booed as she raised one of the dead by the hair and prepared to take his head.

“You will pay for these lives, demon!” The enchantress’ head whipped around to the fair source of the threat, and there she saw a figure that, to her eyes, was wreathed with the purity that was a direct affront to the corruption she harbored. Rachel, in the guise of the illustrious Lady Aspen, stepped forward, wielding both sword and bow.

“I shall have yours,” Erissa hissed, emulating the hatred a demon would harbor for one so pure and innocent. She charged the newcomer who, with arrow nocked, took steady aim and released a powerful arrow. The demon darted to the side, avoiding it completely, and raised her swords as she prepared an attack. Lady Aspen met metal with metal, and to the Lhamian’s fury, shattered one of her ill-gotten swords.

In almost all regards it was a one-sided duel. The demon was far quicker than the human and on the offensive, but Lady Aspen was capable in defending. The clatter of real swords rang out across the people who cheered for the valiant Lady Aspen. The hero fought repeated to put space between her enemy and herself. With every chance she had, Lady Aspen fired an arrow at the demon, but the scaly skin repulsed them as if they were of no more substance than hollow reeds.

The demon enchantress hissed and leaped back, dissatisfied with her inability to dispatch the hero. She began a terrifying song that saw the very ground tremble with dark magic. All around her feet, flickering black flames rose in the form of a rune. As the temptress gathered her strength, Lady Aspen nocked another arrow that was imbued with her own, unadulterated magic. The audience released a massive cheer as the ameliorated arrow streaked across the stage. The flaming arrow caught the unwary demon directly in the chest, knocking her back several feet. Erissa's dark aura evaporated as she lay stricken for a few moments. She had been a split second too late shielding herself, and the magic arrow hurt more than it should have.

"Back to the depths with you, demon," Lady Aspen said with finality. She turned theatrically, scanning the imaginary battle that raged just off stage. With the quickness of a striking serpent, the Lhamian Demon launched herself from the ground and at the hero's vulnerable back. Yet another warrior, clad in shining armor, leapt between them and brandished an impressive sword. The demon was taken aback and hissed venomously. Her eyes narrowed to wicked, black slits.

"We shall meet again." The temptress laughed wildly as she darted across the stage.

[Duffy]

With an edifice of chaos emblazoned across the stage, Ruby advance into David King’s guard. Whilst the drama of one scene faded, it erupted anew in hers. Her sword struck his, and hers recoiled to defend his counter blow. The fury of her speed, mixed with the aggression in his stance served to kick the audience into a new, and wondrous frenzy of adoration.

“You dare show your face?” King roared.

They heckled, booed, and cried with every motion. They screamed with disgust at the first blow, as it cut across the demon Ruby’s cheek to trickle flour and grape juice. To the crowd, she had suffered a grave injury.

“Your blade cannot harm me, Pavonis!” she bellowed.

“Foolish woman. Your corpse will be a thousand arraignments for a thousand debauchee festivals.” David’s words echoed through his mask, and slowly, man and beast became as one.

“Never!” Ruby screamed. “Lay it down now, to save the moon from witnessing such weakness.”

Pavonis snarled behind his mask, releasing a vial of spit that sprayed over his opponent.

In the wings of the stage, Lilith hopped up and down with joy. Every part of the costume was working perfectly with Duffy’s props. When the hushed rumour that someone in the crowd had fainted at the realism, her excitement reached fever pitch.

“I will kneel to no man as weak, as feeble, and fetid as you, Pavonis.” Ruby stepped sideways, dodged the well-rehearsed blow, and brought her sword down onto David’s arm.

She twisted it at the last second, as Viola had shown her, and slapped his wrist with the flat edge of her sword. Though it was blunt, and she pulled her blow, the contortion of the demon mask was real enough to tell Ruby that David would find bruises come the morning. He snarled, retreated, and rolled his sword arm in a full loop.

“The weak are forced to grow stronger,” the demon smirked.

Stage direction told Ruby to duck. A hail of arrows whistled overhead. On cue, a trio of minions emerged stage right, left, and up from the floor. The roars of surprise drowned out the clunky rope work of the hastily prepared lifts.

“The metaphor implies,” she spat, “that one grows stronger by oneself.”

She held out her blade and span slowly. Her head was beginning to hurt from trying to recall the overly ornate choreography. As per Viola’s wish, however, Duffy had gone beyond convention to make every scene of the play as real as possible.

“You lured me here, knowing I would not refuse your cry…” She smiled with a cruel malefic.

Her cheeks connected with two small switches inside the mask. This caused her costume to whine, smoulder, and dance with fire. She came alive with her fury, like a comet falling to earth.

“Is this all you could muster, ‘demon king’?” she cackled.

Pavonis replied only with a wave of his sword. As he moved it through the air, the trio of minions began to advance. The crowd booed.

“What more do I need to do away with you?”

Heavy boots padded across the planks and splintered the supports in convenient places. One of the minions stomped hard on a square switch on the stage’s surface, triggering something that would fall perfectly into place in due course.

Ruby turned. A sword strike to her left, right, and behind snicker snacked with Vorpal precision. Two minions fell in the first barrage. She ducked, rolled, and spiralled through a medley of skinless attempts to end her life.

“An army grander than this!” she roared mid-spin.

With every blow against her armour, Ruby’s costume danced with inner light. The choreography connected blade with ribbon, so that chunks of her costume fell away with every movement, revealing ichor and gemstones that mirrored the demon’s otherworldly nature. To the crowd, she looked as if she were being beaten black and blue.

Ruby pretended to stumble. When her two enemies advanced, like hyena on a fallen prey, she lunged. She pirouetted through a hellfire flourish to embed her sword so deep into final minion’s spine it protruded from his back.

“An eternal, gibbering, iterant horde!” she screamed. She leant in along her blade and kissed the corpse’s cheek with a lolling and serpentine tongue.

In reality, she had severed only paper, and cut through empty air. Each blow, with Duffy’s guidance was placed just so. The crowd oozed and aahed with wonderment. The bodies hit the floor, leaving one minion and the demon king to stand against her fury.

“I under estimated you,” Pavonis mused.

He advanced slowly, each step a thunderclap through the sudden silence. The legend of this play, after all, was into the citizenry since birth. They knew the ebb and flow of everything that happened, but somehow, blind devotion had erased it temporarily from their memory. The coming twist and turns were new to them, and it enthralled them utterly.

“Enough of this. I am done toying!” Ruby roared. She levelled the sword to David’s neck. He shook his head. “I will not stop at your minion’s neck, mark my words.” On cue, her dress smouldered a little more, releasing a plume of red smoke from beneath the sweat-riddled hem.

With a flash of fire, two balls of searing fire flew from the tip of her sword.

The spell served only to knock Pavonis and his minion to their feet. There was a good deal of showmanship, well-timed tumbled, and mocking groans to give the impression the wounds were fatal. Pipes woven through the crowd released the acrid smell of burnt flesh (over done sausages) to bring them one-step closer to the hell-fire.

As Pavonis crashed onto the stage, he let his own magical blade come to life.

It darted at her exposed chest as she recovered. One final prop, carefully stitched into the erratic peaks and droughts of her breastplate by Erissa triggered. A small blade tip, a pop-up of paper and foil, erupted from her spinal cord. To the untrained eye, Lord Pavonis had simply shot his blade straight through the hellish scales of his enemy. Ruby cried, whelped, and screamed with the fury of ages, just to put the point across.

The crowd flinched. Still she rose, full of pain and hatred.

“You have bested me, witch,” he spat. He slouched, gargled, and writhed. “End it, lest you wish to torment me some more?” His wry smile sent a shiver down Ruby’s spine. The mask and its intricate workings were a little too real for the matriarch to bear.

With her sword raised, she placed one foot on one chalk mark, and her other on the cross next to it. She leant on the cross, and felt her weight give when something beneath the floor panel clicked. She roared, to cover the sound, and made to end the man’s life with as much dramatic flair as she could muster. The crowd, audibly silent, held on to the moment with baited breath. In the play, and thus, in the legend that gave birth to their lines, this was a pivotal moment.

In Ruby’s history as a performer, she would remember this as a moment for an altogether different reason. When the arrow struck her in her right side, it was the most painful sacrifice she had made in the name of art. It felt, quite literally, as if her ribs had cracked. Erissa had promised to temper the blow, and Duffy had told her only superficial wounds would result at worst. When she flew sideways, their promises meant nothing.

The crowd roared.

Pavonis, gobsmacked, pushed himself upright.

“What trickery is this?” he asked, directing the question over the stage through the fourth wall.

“Here comes Rachel, run!” the crowd roared.

Ruby span on a heel, clocked eyes with her rival, and brought her blade up to split her mask in two halves. The right eye glowed with red flame, and the left flowed with blue lightning. Eldritch power coursed through her veins, and something impossible with mere stage misdirection lived through the troupe’s magical heritage.

The crowd, in disbelief, dropped their collective jaws.

“We have to work together, for the greater good!” the archer roared at Pavonis.

Ruby took a deep breath. She wavered to the edge of the stage. The tips of her toes hung over the planks and she hovered for just long enough to cause the crowd to doubt their knowledge of the scene.

“I will not become a memory,” she whispered. Her magical mask projected her voice so that it whispered into everyone’s minds, saving her the need to bellow it through the air. The sun danced, the lights dimmed, and with a flash of overly dramatic smoke, she vanished from view.

The uproar was thunderous.

[Viola Conda]

The enraptured crowd cheered as the scene ended, Pavonis joining the group of growing human resistance. The smoke cleared by carefully planted magi of the wind, their fingers weaving away the smoke and lowering it to a misty like state. The stage lights turned a murky red and green fitting for a swamp. The hushed whispers of children and adults alike created a sense of wonder as Erissa’s character returned, rising upwards from the clouds of wonder like a banshee, shrieking.

“Those foolish mortals!” She cried to the audience. “All of them shall be destroyed by my hands! I have lived far too long to be outdone by a mere human! I will shatter their frail bodies and feast upon their souls!” Her hands created a glittering ball of white light, the orb slowly morphing and contracting in size, the perfect representation of a the psyche of mortals. She absorbed the light with a slurping motion, her tongue licking the air when she finished, eyes fluttering in ecstasy. As she looked to the rising moon, her arms reached outwards, as if clawing to the sky.

The demoness’ body began to change, smoke rising around her form obstructing Lillith as she sped across the stage in a low crouch. Her hands held the pins to clamp on the second outfit for Erissa’s demon, and her mouth clamped down the final touches of the robe. With speed she moved in the darkness, the rising smoke pushing a stage elevator up. With practiced ease Lillith knitted the garment to Erissa’s dress, hooking up the final pieces in place before falling backwards with her arms crossed to be caught by Donovan and David underneath the stage as Viola and Ruby shut the door quickly.

“All of this land will tremble at my wrath,” Erissa spoke, her mask amplifying her voice easily, her appearance truly monstrous. Her chest and arms were the same, face still fair and beautiful. Yet her hips were swallowed in robes and wraps, pinned together by scales of netting to make the appearance of a snake. The audience gasped at how truly real Erissa looked like a Naga of legend, and Erissa took her elongated nails, clicking them at the audience and enjoying her terror over them.

“Are you so sure?” A voice echoed in the mists. Erissa’s character looked confused, eyes searching as she turned. She closed her eyes, her tongue licking the air. She hissed loudly, coiling up to her full height, easily capping over seven feet tall. “Your performance earlier, along with the flame-kin’s failure has given me reason to doubt you.”

The audience looked for this new comer as well, Duffy excellently keeping to form as he too searched for who was speaking. Erissa at last let out a self-satisfied giggle, lowering her form and darting with lighting speed at a spot in the shadows, her clawed hands outstretched. There was the unmistakable pop of metal on metal, and a collective call of alarm shocked the audience as the smokes quickly dispersed revealing the herald. A pair of twin swords were locked in an ‘x’ form to keep the claws of Erissa away, a swath of red robes covering the face of the one who stood before a demon.

“And so the Demon King sends out his hound,” Erissa spoke, her words softly slurring the ‘s’ sound in all her speech. It wasn’t overpowering how she did it, but tantalizing and suggestive. Perfect for a second form of true transformation. Ruby had really done her work well.

“He has,” the man said plainly. “I, the herald of King Razial, have taken to the field of battle to alert you that the humans are massing. You and the Flame-kin are to return to the castle in Caliban. In the off chance the humans amass an army, you two will be needed there.”

“He is over reacting!” Erissa spat. “I can just as easily-“ her words, though hostile and full of venom, commanding in every aspect, had been cut off by a bestial roar. It’s fury had sent trapped birds into flight as the cages opened, giving the impression of a truly evil thing, and the Naga-demonette looked to the sky in a troubled manner.

“As you can tell, the King’s patience is running thin.” The hound said with little emotion. “I will keep an eye on the front lines that are forming. Return to him,” he said with finality, walking towards the opposite stage end, his smaller frame dwarfed by the Naga that coiled around him, but did not trap him. “Now.”

With a shriek of annoyance the naga sped off stage and out of the scene as the hound stood just at the precipice of the end of the stage. He let out a wolfish smile, lowering his hood to reveal a wolf’s head mask. “I cannot hide my elation at the prospect of hunting again. I will find the soul of the one they call the Berserker King, and take his head to my master as proof the human resistance is dead.”

The crowd booed at the thought of the main character being killed, and Duffy let them get their tension out before he spoke, the scene changing drastically in the dark as the light shown upon the thespian. “Trouble had been brewing for a long time against the first Berserker King. Rightly so I might add. For to challenge the Demon King Razial was surely to invite doom and darkness into your mind. And as the Hound proclaimed, he enjoyed his hunt, darting through the land, killing off anyone in his way as he sped off in pursuit of the only human who could challenge the king of the demon horde.”

The stage flashed reds as Arden’s shadow casted long against the white backdrop, illuminating the image of cut flesh. All along the stage the amplified sound of meat being cut into painted a grisly picture, and Arden’s laughter made the whole scene otherworldly and evil. Total captivation had been achieved again as Duffy spoke up, the backdrop changing yet again as the scene changed.

“It wasn’t long before the Hound found his prey. Off the Medusa River was a small clearing the Berserker King stood at, looking to his own reflection. He had left the company of Pavonis and Aspen after recently acquiring the aid of another general who fought against the demons. He was Lord Cadia, and the men he brought with the Berserker King created a resistance that could actually stand up to the Demon throng! Yet before he took the mantle of command, the Berserker King wanted to know if he was truly worthy of commanding all of these people. It was in this ravine the Berserker King met the Hound…”