Éleveur d'Agents,
We have found them. Proceed to the jewel,
strike for the fallen.
Yours faithfully,
Copains.
The paper was carefully torn into strips, into shreds and buried beneath the roots of an ancient tree. Dark clouds hovered just over the mountains. The man brushed dust from his overalls and stretched, face lifted to the sun.
A shadow of a cloud hid the light.
"Come, Coeur."
Nothing was left behind. Only light, ringed depressions and rounded bootprints lingered in that silent forest hollow.
A light spray of water covered the greenery, leaf and branch. Two small shapes hurried into thick clumps of bush as rolling thunder disturbed the eerie silence of the forest.
-stonetostonestonetostonestonetostonestonetostone-
His hand rested, pale and flawless, on a crimson velvet armrest. Each finger rose and fell like a wave as the man stared into nothing.
A thick shuffle of cloth and steel drew his attention away, to the closed doors decorated with swooping figures of serpents in polished gold. They were crafted to be enormous, matching the ceiling that arched overhead, draped with warm velvet and crystalline chandeliers. The golden light threw a cheery air over the otherwise sombre court.
Unimpressionable steel-blue eyes slowly fixed on the fidgeting guard.
To the credit of the armour-clad woman, she did not hesitate or flinch away from that stare. She stepped forward and bowed, long spear held perfectly straight as her arm twisted awkwardly beside her to keep it in that position.
"Sir." She straightened after a moment. "An agent has returned and wishes to hold your audience."
"Send him in." The king kept any eagerness from his voice with practiced disdain.
The doors were slowly levered open, dragging over the rich carpets. A young man strode in with a confident tilt of his bare chin.
That swagger all but disappeared as Lysandre easily stepped up and away from his throne. Thin drapings of gold and crimson finery spread behind him like wings as the king approached his man. The agent audibly gulped and bowed as if hinged at the waist.
Lysandre contemplated him, with a tilt of his head. His left hand clapped the boy on his shoulder, and he favoured him with a light smile.
"You have done well. Rise."
His hand slipped back to hang at his side, and the king turned. The curtains had been drawn but hours before, and the light of morning warmed him like no fireplace could.
"Your report."
"Sire."
The hallways echoed with hurried footsteps and strained voices. The king turned a corner and flicked his cape away from his arm for what felt like the thousandth time. He knew that only the threat of banishment held his assistants back from attempting to physically restrain him. They still required his frosty glare as one of them foolishly stepped a little too far in front of his long stride.
"Sir. Sir! Please, if you could look at-"
"Please, sir, remember your-"
"No need to rush sire, no-"
The last door between him and the object of his fury. The king swept the flock of pandering servants back with a powerful arm and lifted one corner of his lips to show a singularly sharp canine. "You will not enter unless I give the command."
That annoyance pacified, he pushed the glass-paned door open with a loud bang. Several weak-kneed men and women leapt to their feet and staggered as the king strode past their stations. He ignored the futuristic computers, the fantastic flowering plants growing in their plastic cocoons and stormed up to the one dark room at the other end of the compound.
A king did not deign to knock. Still, the man knew how his people worked, and he pushed the door open without slamming it into the delicate glass cupboards arranged by the doorway.
"Lysandre."
"Celosia." He didn't need to smile.
The slender woman peeked up at him from her lounging position by a computer screen displaying their old 'Team' symbol. At least, he assumed she was looking at him. The scientist's visor glowed purple in the dim light as she slowly, languidly rose to her feet and gave an elegant curtsey. "And to what do I owe this... honour... your majestic highness?"
"There's more of them."
"More of what?" A tight smile on the one half of her face still showing betrayed her knowledge of his answer. Lysandre crossed his arms, reveling in the familiar strength of the pose. Celosia's smile dropped, but the confidence in her body language didn't waver for a moment. "Ah. Them."
"There weren't supposed to be survivors," the king muttered. A light touch on his arm drew those cold eyes to the fresh purrloin-purple polish shining on her delicate fingernails.
"Variables always exist," the woman said. Her hand corrected the crooked position of his cape and she turned to close the door. Darkness swept over them, and Lysandre hated how comfortable it was to be shrouded in it. "For the billions that lived, only our select few remain. Your select few."
He shook his head and felt his carefully arranged hair sway with the movement. "That is a lie. Yes, my Flare lives on- but so do those various delinquents," the king snarled, "who continue to pollute my perfect, my beautiful world."
"And they won't do so for much longer, my king," Celosia said, pursing her lips.
The light changed. Lysandre looked over his shoulder as the scientist swayed down to press select buttons on a minimalist keyboard. The screensaver had been replaced with a shaky film of another dark room, the view moving along in the hand of a man in a thick green coat. Something trickled from a high corner in the video and he turned to observe more closely. A strange shiver ran down his spine.
Celosia waved her hand across the screen. Lysandre noticed a small blinking light at the monitor's base and stiffened imperceptibly. His hands dropped into the folds of his cloak as the man in the film finally stopped shaking his camera about and set it down.
"My lady," the shadowed man said, heavy breathing translating as static between each word. She didn't bother to respond and instead motioned the king forward. Lysandre restrained his amusement at her bold dismissal of his- what- position and did so. He didn't know this man, but none of his scientists would have a common grunt report personally, in such a secretive place. "Your- your highness! My humblest- um- apologies, Grace-"
"Stop making a fool of yourself and give him the good news, you fool," Celosia said directly into the camera.
"Lord- I've found their nest."
Silence. Lysandre found his arms were already crossed, and he lowered his chin to hide a growing smile in the luxurious faux fur of his coat.
A/N: Hello, community.
This isn't my first fanfiction, but it is the first under this name. Welcome!
I find it comfortable to have a place I can connect with the reader, but my notes will not be at the top of the page, distracting from the story- such as it is. If something confuses you, please be sure to check here, at the bottom of the page, first. If I do not provide the answers you need, feel free to message me privately.
This will be a short story, but a sweet one. I'm only planning around 6-7 chapters, so every moment of those chapters should be full of some interesting things to read over. I sincerely hope you will enjoy what I'm writing here, and I ask that you feel free to comment on my technique.
Thank you for reading the first chapter, and I believe this will all become clearer soon.
Happy hunting!
