Chaos Stars: Madness Rising

Book 2 of the Warlords Saga

Three years have passed since Harrison James Potter joined the TSAB to root out those who dared to mislead him, yet the worms have eluded him. When ordered to deal with another threat he pulls something sinister from the earth that will bring him emotions he thought he had brunt away on the battlefield long ago.

For three young girls the path to joining the ranks of the TSAB has begun as they seek to balance their new jobs and family life. In darkness new players have stepped forth with those young ones in their site.

For one mad scientist with a mind for the ultimate prize the time has come to test his inventions in the field against a perilous foe. The would be Heralds of humanity's true god ride forth to prove the right of ascension has been won, much to the woe of man.

Torn by her duties as a mother and an officer of the TSAB, Lindy Harlaown chases down an ancient legend reborn. In the far reaches of space she will face the menace haunted an entire sector for thousands of years.

Oh the trouble with books! For one librarian these words ring out true more than he would wish. A lost tome and gut instinct of the Blazing General leads two unlikely allies into a dark world were victory is the only option.

The winds of war blow as the slow burning might of the wizards is kindled against the Witches Coven. Games are played and the secrecy of magic is threatened, but without a Chosen One to guide them the wizards may yet fall to the enemy they never thought would return.

Ever lurking in the darkness beyond, eldritch spiders spin their webs as mortals dance for them. With promises of vengeance the Sealed Ones tug at their chains. For night is falling and soon the great hunt will ensure. At the end of this long night the Feast of Flesh begins again, perhaps dawn will come then…

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It's a miracle; no, it was blood tempered skill that saw me though; I lived through these events when so many others did not or where never given a chance. Poetry is not my strong suit as I have changed the format so that you, the reader, may understand this tale better and avoid the pitfalls I blundered into.

To my dearest love, if you are reading this (you would have to be in order to see these words. Magic enchantments and all that!), share them with the world and take them to heart. Though we are apart, and you realize it not this is my way of caring. You always said that was where I failed as a person, caring, so I hope you will see these records for what they are, not what they appear to be.

To say man had fallen to the depths was an understatement. The glory of man, the might of its sciences, the grace of its arts and culture had peaked. All that was left was to complete the spiral of destruction we now walked. Centuries ago it had appeared as if we might never fail, our might passed over by time, and we were wrong. Very, very wrong…

I slipped amongst the milling throng that always filled the Merchant Quarters on any given day. New Belka had become a melting pot of races and ideas. Agents from a dozen Warlords moved in secret, squat brutish Thidorians muscled their way through the crowds with no regard for who or whom they pushed away, graceful Lanorians stood in the doorways hawking their bodies to passing males, Ravian traders and their massive bug like mounts traipsed overhead, and a dozen other races could be seen. A great many were humans of varying builds and breeds, but at least they were human; a familiar shape.

A Lanorian wench called out to me as I avoided a passing Thidorian brute. I resisted the urge to take the dagger I had been clenching and plunge it into her blue skin. Sometimes I wondered what color Lanorians bled, once a drinking buddy of mine had tried to find to find out. We found his body impaled over the bar sign the next day, apparently he couldn't survive the process of having his spine replaced with a wooden spar.

"Come with me good 'ir. 'how you a good time, I will," she said in what have passed for a surly voice.

I noted that this one was still couldn't pronounce the s sounds properly. She must have been a new arrival from their homeworld. Most aliens had trouble with the s sounds in Belkan basics and very few Lanorians ever mastered that most tricky s sound, something I took get pleasure in. They would not ruin our noble tongue of men with their alien voices yet.

"Get away from me whore!" I pushed the alien away, the sheer gray robes doing nothing to conceal the fact she wore the form of a human female. "Return to your mud hole filth and leave me be!"

She got in my face again. Given me what might have been a Landorian sultry smile, she tried to convince me to join her little act of treason against the human race. "Come, come, 'ee I am not 'o different from you. Give me a try and you will not be di'pleased."

She grabbed by arm and started to tug me toward the shadowy door, where exotic spices wafted outwards. I roughly grabbed the whore's arm and twisted, her skin allowed me to twist it as I had expected. In my circles we called Landorians 'Rubber Skins' on account for their malleable skin. The same trait that had made them so famous amongst the military folk was the same reason I hated them. They wore the human form without regard to its scared nature. The xeno-biologists claimed Lanorians were gelatinous masses until the first contact with humans was made and now after all these centuries they were stuck in a human form, their rubber skin the sole reminder of their original form.

I would never sleep with one of these pale imitations of humanity! I would never let one of them be treated as a human, to do so would be to admit they were human…ish. Even though the Empress preached tolerance and equal rights for all races under her rule, I would never adhere to the woman's words. She was old and naïve, too willing to cling to the past and unwilling to embrace the future our race deserved amongst the stars. "Die filthy whore," I growled dragging my dagger and plunging the ornamental, yet functional blade into her heart.

When the Lanorians had copied the human they came in contact they copied everything, including internal anatomy. I wrenched the dagger as her gray eyes went wide in pain. She let out a low moan and I let her fall after pulling my dagger free of her body. Some blackish substance coated the blade. "Hmm…so you bleed black filthy imposter," I said in contempt. I felt nothing, no pity, no remorse, no regret for this sudden act of violence. It was trash. Why would I care about trash?

"What have you done?"

I gave the male Lanorian, who emerged from that darken building with all its spices and sensual moans, a sharp glare of utter contempt. He was beneath my notice, trash that lived off humanity. The male rushed to the side of the nearly dead female, Rubber Skins took an unnaturally long time to die a fact I hated. The gathering crowd of curious onlookers would draw the wrong sort of attention to this place. It was past time for me to be gone.

I knelt down to the dying female, as the male cuddle her head, whispering to her in their alien tongue, and cleaned my dagger on her clothes. With two swift motions most of the blood was gone from the nanoedged blade. "Keep your own damned blood," I snarled in contempt.

"Please! Tell me why? Why did you do this?" the male asked in desperation. "Why did my sister deserve to join the Choir on this day?" He gently placed the alien whores head on the crowd and stood to face me.

This male was well dressed. It wore the silk and slipsteel tunic, akin to my own, that was popular in the courts, dyed in expensive red and black dyes. This male was well to do and spoke nearly perfect Belkan basic. I glared at the alien, a parasite who made his fortunes off the backs of honest humans, and turned away. It was past time for me to be gone.

"Tell me!" it pleaded.

I ignored it; the crowd parted before me fear and respect in their eyes. The ornate tunic I wore, a symbol of my status was far grander than anything most of this filth would. The common person within the Belkan Empire could not understand the myriad of complex problems we faced as a nation. As the last free nation in the universes we had the solemn task to preserve, nurture and protect the last true vestiges of humanity; alien scum subverted that most holy of tasks.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the city guards arrive. Their matte black chitin like armor was embellished with the gold and red bands of their office. Behind conical, horned helms they watched over the city, judging and ruling in spite of the law. Out here the laws of Empire held little sway despite being a major trade world. Most of the infrastructure on this planet was dedicated to trade and the flow of trade overseen by my kind, the merchant masters of Sigmond.

I stopped for a moment as the captain of this guard squad approached me. He bowed from the waist, acknowledging my station, before he straightened himself to speak. "Master Lam'ro, I would like a word with you."

"Ah, yes! About the incident where I was attacked by the Lanorian," I answered his unspoken questions. "I am more than happy to speak about the assault with you. Would you like to take this someplace else?" I asked. It never failed to be somewhat polite to another human. After all, we humans only had each other in the end.

"I apologize Master Lam'ro, but I cannot leave this place. Protocol demands that I stay. I merely require a statement from you as to what happened and your part in this affair will be over," he said remorsefully.

"The statues of law, I know them well. I had some training in our fine legal system." That was a bold faced lie. Our legal system was some convoluted and corrupted; it took an act of the Empress to get something done. "I was walking by, on a stroll mind you, when that…alien," I wanted to use harsher terms, but the recorder set inside the captain's helm would be capturing all that I said, "attempted to drag me into her…brothel. She grabbed me, after I refused her and I tried to push to her away, but she kept trying. She must have been new or something because she became flustered and tried to force me. She reached for my dagger and nearly got it. I wrenched it away from her and her hands went for my neck so I acted in self-defense. I have trained as a Wolkenritter and have authorization to be armed at all times."

"He lies!" the alien screamed, rushing me. "Shaile never attack anyone!"

I watched the Rubber Skin fall to the ground as two guards tackled him. One planted his knee into the spine of the alien and the other placed a small disk on the alien's neck. There was a hiss as the adhesive bound itself to the flesh and a spark telling all that the electronic zapped the alien with enough power to render it unconscious. "Clearly the alien is delusions Captain," I concluded, nodded my head sagely for effect.

"So it would seem. Very well then Master Lam'ro, your part in this affair is over. Compensation for the attack will come from the still living one in several days. I will deliver it myself," he informed me graciously.

I nodded and walked away. He could come to me and expect his money. Ever act like this cost me, but the fortune of my family was limitless. It would never be vast like the High Knights or Seven Lords, but it was steady and in these war times that was something to be said. We might not be amongst the Great Families, but the Lesser Families were fine company to be amongst.

Vacating the Merchant Quarters, I crossed one of the many bridges built over the numerous rivers. Sigmond was for the most part a river world. Hundreds of thousands of rivers and streams followed from the World Mountains that nearly stretched the circumference of the entire planet. Within those vast mountains the lakes, fed by fresh snow melt, watered the planet. The entire system was contrived by the might of humanity. This world had been a terraforming project of the highest degree before the Warlords had taken power. Some of those machines still rotated overhead, alongside modern shipyards and ports. "Truly this world was a testament to the might of our species. Even the land bows before our might, as it should," I said thoughtfully as I crossed the bridge.

"Nice to see ye haven't changed, ye bastard!"

I knew that voice! I turned and smiled. Leaning against the dusty railing with it chipped white paint, I saw a man who I had been like a brother to me. With an easy smile, languid attitude and long jacket made from the skin of a wrym, Kelin Posek was many things; a playboy, outlaw, hunter, ex-soldier and more. Above all he was my friend who faced the worst this planet had to offer by my side. "You should have told be when you returned I would have met you at the port."

He pulled me into a one armed hug. "Nice to see you again too. How have ye been doing? I've been gone for over a year and ye never could get much done without me," he said, jovially waving his free arm.

I bristled at the sudden close contact. I had never been one for close contact with another person. It was…odd. I knew it was odd, but I had never liked being touched by another human and hated the touch of the alien. "Fine, I have been fine. You?"

With an easy smile he seemingly recalled by dislike of being touched and let me go. "Ye wouldn't believe half of what I have seen. Hell's bells, I wouldn't believe 'em if I hadn't seen them myself!" he loudly declared. "I saw what happened in the Merchant Quarters," he said, suddenly serious. "Are ye committed to what ye told me before I left?"

I faced him and met his eyes; those brown eyes told me he was all business. Something had changed in him, suddenly I didn't know him. This man wore the same face, acted the same, but thought differently. During his journeys he had changed, but I should have expected that. Nothing stayed the same, no matter how we might resist it. "The day you left?" I asked. He nodded and I took a deep breath. "I meant every word of what I said. Those words are my creed I've built my life around, shaped my family around."

"Good," he said with a satisfied nod. "I have a few mates I want ye to meet. They're…similar to ye in thought. They want to change things and so do I."

Those words sent my world reeling. In all the years of our friendship he had never acknowledged that my values were his values or gave any hint that he agreed with them. It was either a masterful deception that even my father, a genius in his own right, had missed or the journeys he had taken had forced him to reevaluate what he believed in. "What? Since when?"

"Things happen Samuel. Out there," he pointed upwards where heavy dropships ferried goods to the surface and back to the orbital stations, "I found myself. The real me. All those days of harrowing adventures forced me to deal with myself and the unpleasant truths about myself. I had to face 'em. There was no choice. Not for me, never for me," he trailed darkly, staring at the sky. "A new commander is needed for the sake of this Empire, a new directive to maintain everything we hold sacred. In this I agree with ye."

I couldn't help, but raise a speculative eyebrow. It was too odd he would suddenly support my radical views. People didn't change so suddenly, it had only been a year since we parted ways. Was he playing another game on me? He had done similar things to me in the past. Then again…he could have changed radically in a year. "I'll meet with your friends. Where?"

"Meet me here in when night falls. I'll take you then," he answered evasively. He chewed his lip, a nervous habit he rarely displayed in public, and looked torn. "Things are changing. War is coming. The High Knights and the Seven Lords have called every knight and every battalion to gather on New Belka. The rumors speak of total war against the Warlords, but others say that our Empress has chosen a side in the wider affairs. One thing I do know for sure that chaos is coming to the Empire and the cause lays in the High Courts."

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. It almost seemed as if he thought the Empress herself was involved in this sudden change in policy. Never in the history of our reborn nation had the Empress led us in an offensive war, defensive wars yes, but never as the aggressors. "What are you suggesting?"

"Nothing!' he said too quickly, "nothing at all! Anyway meet me here and I'll explain when you meet my friends, not till then," he said forestalling any further questions.

"For old times' sake alone then I will obey," I said coldly. I wanted answerers, but Kelin wasn't forthcoming.

He gave me an odd look. "You've changed my friend. Your colder, harsher, and more brittle than you think," he said sagely, with a nod of head. "Till this evening." He walked away and quickly vanished into the Merchant Quarter.

I rolled his words around for a moment. What did he mean 'more brittle than I thought'? Was that a bad thing? A good thing? Why was he being so ambiguous after all these years? Was it too hard for him to be upfront about his intentions like he had been? Where did the boy who would tell the baker to his face he intended to steal a loaf of bread for the thrill and do so while the baker laughed at his audacity? "Argh!" I shook my head in frustration. More than one passing commoner gave me an odd look, but I didn't care. None of them had power or influence to threaten me. "Forget it, I'll just go home and deal with this later!"

"Give me the specs on this trash heap were supposed to go visit Azriel," Harry Potter called out as he slowly rolled out his bunk. Groggily he reached for his uniform, a pair of black pants and matching shirt. Around the collar he had emerald green scroll work, the only identification mark of his personal command. His fingers missed the pants, but hooked the shirt for a moment. It was enough to let the shirt fall into a heap on the floor. Cursing himself he pushed back the sheets and attempted another grab at the pants.

"As you command, Master of Death," the scythe necklace said from the nightstand. "The planet designation is IPU-857; Ios by the natives. There are not records to indicate the inhabitants are Mid-Childan descent though no evidence has been unearthed by the natives as to their origins, but Belkan may be a possible."

"Wait! Do they even look human?" Harry asked hesitantly, pulling the pants on. "I'd rather not have to assume another alien shape, even if it's for a short time. That damned living plastic the TSAB gets hot and sticky inside!" He slipped the shirt over his head, fumbling for a moment with the buttoned up collar. "Have to remember that bloody button," he muttered.

"There is no need for concern. This planet's inhabitants are humanoid in form, composition, and thought. For all intensive purposes they are every bit as human as a non-magical person of Earth or Mid-Childa," she assured him.

"Small blessings." Harry rose and walked to the small sink. "At least those TSAB jerks have the decency to realize crews want to wash their faces with actual water in the morning." The culture shock was not nearly as bad as he expected when he came into the TSAB fold. For the most part their worlds, culture, and peoples had many of the same habits, traditions, and ideas. While he liked some of their technologies others he had more problems with, like refreshers. The refresh was a stroke of genius, a small closet sized unit where one could step into it and enjoy the steam. Through the use of certain types of heated water mixtures the steam was able to clean both skin and cloth, wiping away the days grim without having to undress. Naturally such advances had found their way into the favor of the TSAB Navy.

For him it was too easy. He liked the effort to get clean, the feeling of relaxing over the convenience of minimal work. Refreshers had their uses, but he didn't like them. Traveling for weeks at a time made them useful in his job, which required vast period of time in space, but every time he made planetfall he hunted down a real bath. Sighing at the lack of even a shower, he gave the mirror a forlorn frown, "Well mate we'll get a real bath soon enough," he told his reflection.

He traced the new scar that ran from his jawbone down the left side of neck; the souvenir of an errant Razor Worm tentacle. On one hand it had nearly sliced his neck open, but on the other had the local human females considered it a mark of great prowess of the man in bed. "A strange people, that lot was," he muttered, "Anyway, go on Azriel."

"Very well. Ios is divided into three factions; The Confederation of Allied States, the Ios Imperium, and the League of Arkan. The technology and social level is roughly Industrial age Earth, but is closer to the semi-popular Earth trend called steampunk."

That caught his attention. "Steampunk? Really? Do they even have magic?"

"Several schools of magic have been recorded by the TSAB observers. Most deal with machines or are based around making machines work better, faster, stronger and longer. A fusion of magic and technology akin to the one the TSAB forces upon the Administered worlds, though it is closer to a prototype than the same route of development. This style bears several similarities to some Al-Hazard styles."

Harry waved dismissively before she went on. "Don't care right now, tell me later. Tell me about the mission." He picked up Azriel, unclipped the latch and placed it around his neck. Drawing his finger over the latch, he fed it a spark of raw mana. The latch would be visible to anyone, but would only open for his unique mana signature.

"It was this hybridization of magic and technology that has brought us he. The TSAB observers have learned that the Confederation, after a recent war against the Ios Imperium, has begun research into a forbidden weapon, a type of distortion cannon that bends space around a localized area," Azriel explained as he walked out of his room and into the hallways of the Zepler, a TSAB cruiser that normally ferried personnel from planet to planet.

"So some weapon research has the Director spooked, what of it?" He didn't see the danger; a hundred worlds might be researching dangerous technologies at any point in time. Why was this place any different that they wanted him on the case?

"The Confederation has tested these weapons already. At the time of the first test there was a localized anomaly in the Dimensional Sea surrounding this would. The observers at the time passed it off as nothing. Six months ago there was a series of test in the far northern reaches of the planet. Over the course of the six day test, the observers and reconnaissance beacons in this system picked up hundreds of localized distortions that had a cascading effect. The anomalies grew bigger as the test proceeded and the epicenter was the planet Ios itself."

Harry turned a corner and walked into the mess hall. The handful of TSAB personnel aboard was already eating and the crew was gone, having already been up for hours. Most of the men and women wore the Navy uniform as they ate quietly, studying reports or getting updates from their devices. He grabbed and tray and began to select his dishes. The heat of judgmental glances, hateful glares, and curious innocence impact his back and he ignored it. Three years of the same glances and glares had left him unable to care about them. "Go on Azriel," he said, taking a seat and starting to eat, a few tables away from the nearest personnel.

"As you have already assumed this distortion technology was the cause." He gave her an empathic nod then she went on. "Each tested created an infinitely dense section of space, where matter was crushed from the intense gravity. These devices, if one of suitable size or numerous enough were detonated, could create a sector wide dimensional distortion that would tear this area of the space-time frame and into the Void. Of course this would only be for a moment. After such an event, moments afterwards, the fundamental forces holding matter together would change and matter would literally fly apart without dying. Within a minute all matter would be blown apart and then converge into a single point due to the artificial gravity; do keep in mind that the people would be still be 'aware' for all intensive purposes. That artificial gravity would collapse into itself, dragging all matter and energy within this sector into a singularity where the thinking beings, humans, would suffer the immense pressure and heat of all of their creation for all eternity," she paused for a moment, "or at least until their souls brunt up in the infinite heat of creation. This would create a sphere within the Dimensional Sea that would expand making travel through it impossible. In time it would break through the space-time barriers and many universe would be consumed before they knew what was happening. In theory the sphere would expand indifferently until it retracted back into itself and then expanded again into infinity. That is what the projects used by the TSAB suggests."

Harry had dropped his fork as she deliver the endgame in the familiar monotone and couldn't help, but wonder what mad man had created her to deliver such words as if they were words of prophesy and foregone conclusion. The fate she spoke of was among the worst he had ever heard and during the war he had heard ever kind of grim fate mentioned on both sides, yet this was new. This distortion cannon fate ranked up there with the goat one, but he would never speak of the goat again, for his personal sake and desire to sleep at night of course. "Whoa!" He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, "That's…something new."

"A terribly hot fate Master of Death as the human body starts to come apart at hundred and five degrees; cooking is a better term. I can only theorize that at the heats in this scenario will be much higher. The cold touch of death is much preferred as it allows for a chance of revival, however slight," she said, surprisingly droll for a machine born out of magic and science.

"Not funny, not funny at all," Harry chided her pointlessly. In death and ways to make things die Azriel found pleasure and joy. She was a murderous and wished for nothing more than utter silence as all things died around her. He quickly amended that thought; she wanted him with her always even when the universe was grey and cold as the stars died. "Let me guess a smash and grab mission?" he said, changing the subject. The danger of these cannons was apparent even to him.

"No, an annihilation mission. Nothing is to be left of this technology. We are to destroy all traces of it, anyone with the knowledge behind the creation or operation of technology, everyone who has come in contact with and might be able to recreate it must die. Those are the orders we have been given," she said soundly faintly pleased by the projection of bloodshed in the near future.

"Ugh! This is why I hate being special ops," Harry moaned quietly, putting his head in his hands. "It's easy enough to say, but then doing it? Getting everyone who knows anything? Hah! If I had a lifetime I might be able to do it, but I don't. Though…" he trailed off, "I suppose…"

"What are you thinking my Master of Death?"

"If most of the data went bye-bye then maybe…and the creator kicked the bucket…the Director might be satiated with that, no she'll have to be. There's no way in hell I'm staying to clean up every bloody bit of knowledge. At least," he smiled a bit at the only positive side of this mission, "I'll have to give the old lady a nice fat commission bill for this job above and beyond my normal duties." He loved this freelance work while being an official member. The best part was when he got to write that number down and hand to Crowbel who would raise her eyebrows, frown in distaste then slid the appropriate check to him.

"We are being watched Master of Death," Azriel stated suddenly. "We were not quite."

"What?" He looked up and saw that for the most part the other officers were looking at him, most no longer holding back their loathing. They hated him because unlike them he would change the amount of pay he could get at the cost of job security, or so he liked to tell himself. The day Crowbel no longer needed him there would be a security team waiting to arrest him and he would fight. Allies would become enemies and he would kill them. At least the regular officers had a steady pay and job security; it would take a lot of wrong doing for the TSAB to arrest one of their own officers. Others in this room would hate for the fact he would kill without remorse and perform actions many of the high and mighty Bureau would call shameful and cowardly acts. He shook his head and gave them a slow disappointed nod, not everyone could serve in the light and the battle must be waged from the darkness by the darkness. "Darkness though light…" he cast a longing look upwards, "Damn, when did my life become so complicated. I'm sick of this light and dark crap. I just want to live my life yet here I am working for the light against what?"

"Neither. The TSAB is neither dark nor light. You are allowing you r perception to be colored by the war-"

"Battle," Harry quickly corrected Azriel.

"The battles you have experienced. In this case the heroes of these mages are the villains of the native peoples when they must perform certain actions the natives might find distasteful or offensive in the name of the greater safety. Ergo, we can conclude that the Time Space Administration Bureau is a morally gray organization, though it should be known that I hold a far different view of morality given what I am. My reason cannot be trusted any more than yours, Master of Death, as neither of us stand as they do. Judgments from us is as an outsider, hence we cannot fully comprehend."

"Chatty, aren't you?" Harry snapped. To a certain extent her words made sense. He had found it harder and harder to understand some of the actions he had seen mages and wizards do in the name of good and evil. Fanatics stood on both sides ready call each other evil as they committed evil. Good men performed evil actions for the sake of good. Evil men performed acts of good for evil. It was pointlessly stupid. Every man or woman was a king or queen unto themselves and each had a different view of right and wrong, yet was more than willing to walk over the line then cross back over. "I suppose your right. I find myself not caring anymore. Right, wrong, black, white, blue, green, indigo…what's the difference?"

"Plenty and nothing," a new voice broke in.

Harry's head shot down to look at the interloper. The interloper was a woman, maybe a year or two older than him, in the black uniform of the Enforcers. Her hair was a pale blonde, nearly silver in the light that oddly fitted with her extremely pale skin, a common symptom of those who spent much of their time inside starships. "And you are?"

"Not musing out loud," she said with a smirk. She took the seat across from him, dropping a heavy tome on the table. 'My Device," she told him, placing a hand on the tome.

"Names might help here," he suggested, but made no move to offer his own. She met his gaze head on. Her eyes were the odd, milky white yet with splotches of blue around her pupil. Those eyes through him for a loop; they were strange eyes the likes of which he hadn't seen before.

"The eyes," she stated as if she had expected his thoughts. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Once more I get to explain. I suffered an accident during an investigation. A Lost Logia activated and I happened to be looking at the epicenter of the bright flash that followed. Several minutes passed where I couldn't look away and my iris's was brunt away. Happy? Now you know the story of the freaky eyes," she finished bitterly.

Harry shrugged and picked at the last of his breakfast. "Doesn't matter to me. Though I didn't say I was curious to begin with," he pointed out. "You assumed and made an ass out of yourself." He let out a small chuckled, but the woman across the table didn't get it. The only look she wore was on of confusion. Quickly he moved to explain, "It's a saying from back home, a joke on a certain beast we have."

"I…see…" she said slowly. "I'll keep that in mind. I wouldn't want to be…what did you call it? An ass? Though we should return to subject at hand; morality."

"Why would you care?" He was honestly curious why she had taken a sudden interest in him and she had yet to introduce herself.

"You find the traditional ideas of black and white binding, no? Limited in perspective given the nature of humans to cross that line at will and still call black white and white black." She didn't wait for an answer from him and plunged ahead. "In that manner we are alike. The conventional standards make little sense to us, but we play along because of the chains. Every man, woman and child sees a different world, yet it is the same world. A robber who steals from the toy store and gives to the children at the park is a hero to the children, a dangerous criminal to the father, and a threat to a mother's child. Yet to another man the robber is a hero for the owner of the store was a crook, to the woman who was scammed by the store it is righteous vengeance for the transgressions she suffered, and the child envies those who got the toys because they were not among them, thus the robber is a villain. Which is true?"

He honestly didn't want to have a deep discussion over the nature of morality. All he had been doing was musing out loud…in the wrong place, he reminded himself. Next time he would save the musing and talking out loud for the times when he was alone. The woman went on, talking as she took quick bites of something he thought looked like a salad. It was hard to tell with shipboard rations what exactly one was eating.

"Every man, woman and child will see the robber differently, yet when the time comes for society to judge the robber they follow the mass. Chains," she repeated the word over and over as if it were the key to all knowledge, "chains bind us. Chains compel us to act in unison. Metal links chain the black ring, red rings, white ring, blue ring, green ring and all the other rings, views rather, into one thing we called normal social codes and values. From these arise societies and nations, born by chains binding and forcing adherence through one means or another. Yet sometimes the chains cannot bind one and the ring breaks away. Outsiders call us freaks, and thousand other names by the chained who do not realize they are chained."

Harry finally spoke up. "And the outcasts gather and link with each other. One by one they find each other and chain themselves together. The sum of the differences between the outcasts is less than the sum of the similarities between the outcasts. Then a new chain is created. As you said from there you create a new society, bound by chains of a different kind, but chains none the less. So you're back to where you started."

She gave him a pleased look, it seemed she was happy someone was willing to endure her speeches and debated back, to some extent. "Correct, the endless cycle of chains. Each cycle thinks itself unique, special, out of the ordinary, rebels and the like, but it's just a new incarnation of an old chain reborn. Where does it end? Where does the cycle break? When black rings become white? When green becomes red? Perhaps when all the rings are yellow? No, none of these. It will never end. It will frustrate the outcast until more come to unwittingly build the chain of a new cycle with the outcast. There is no escape for us, we have already lost, yet," she paused and looked over his shoulder at the far wall. "Yet…yet we want the chain. A part of being human one could say. To be above such petty matters, yet all we want is to be amongst those who think the same. Odd, don't you think?"

He nodded slowly. A lot of what she said made a certain amount of sense, but he thought for a moment she had failed to address the morality issues. Then he realized she had. She had hit on the issue the whole time, the colors, the chains, the whole time she had been focused on the topic at hand. "Think about it as color. White rings and chains can be dyed red, yellow and blue. From there you can reach any color. Combine them all and you have a black ring. Over time you blend the entire chain, slowly though over the course of many lifetimes," he suggested.

"A base is needed though, to change the color that is. Without a base nothing can stand. A house needs a foundation, a starship needs a hull and a planet needs a core. We who dislike the white chain that binds offer a different chain, yet the base is always there. For some it is reason, science, religion, social values and the like, yet what is it for the outcasts. There is no common color of the outcast, you are red and I am blue, another is green and another is orange. Where does it end? Where does it start, the change? Is it worth it? Can humanity survive the change? Do they want to change?" she questioned, almost as if were talking to herself.

"Does it matter what they want? Do they care about the larger picture? No!" He smacked his fist on the table, drawing the eye of the few remaining officers still eating. "No, they don't care. They never did." The faces of wizards he had fought with, saved and killed flashed through his mind. "They don't care; all that matters is the immediate tomorrow they can't see beyond their noses. A week out, a year out, it doesn't matter they'll use the same judgment over and over and over." Wizards were stagnant. That he had known from the moment Voldemort had returned to his full power and the real fighting started. A wizard would fight for the status quo, where black magic was black magic, good magic was good magic and gray was close to black, but not too much so good could make limited use of it. After the fighting was done he had tried his hardest to get their society moving again. He pushed and pulled, prodded and tempted the stubborn fools to take action to save their race, to change their color so they might have a chance to survive, yet he had failed at every turn and they turned on him for it. "New things are frowned at until their worth is proven. If by force then they are slowly changed over many lifetimes. Though peace it might take a shorter time, but still lifetimes have to pass before peaceful ideas take charge."

Her pale lips almost quirked upwards into a smile. "Now you understand the questions I have wrestled with for the past four years. This outcast has found another outcast. A chain if formed. A common bond I have not felt in a long time." She bent her head over her plate and started to eat rapidly.

"You know," Harry drawled, playing with his fork as he placed an elbow on the table, "you left me with more questions than answers. What is the difference?"

She gave him a half glance, through the hair that had fallen over her eyes. Looking him square in the face, she brushed her hair back and smirked. "Questions are endless and answers only breed more questions. You answered the question yourself, though what questions the answer and the question will open up I find myself wondering." She placed her small hands before her mouth, fingers interlocked. "Where will it lead I wonder? What new questions will be opened by the answer? Is the answer even the answer to this question or another? So many different questions and never enough answers, that's what I've learned. Endless questions and never enough time to answer them all."

He didn't know what to make of this strange woman. She thought deeply, plumbing the depths of reason for answers. She was smart, that much was certain by her speeches, but she just seemed off. Her eyes made an odd contrast to her plain body and normal face. This woman was no supermodel or playwitch, yet she had a beauty of her own.

"My name is Cerisi," she said, suddenly standing. She took her plate in one hand and lifted the tome by the cover. The tome stayed shut as she lifted it as if it were nothing. "My Device is named Stark. I seek to be out to be in, in yet out by being in. In this task you will assist me greatly."

"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion. She was an odd woman to be certain and her mind worked in odd ways apparently. What was she talking about, out to be in to, in yet out? What kind of games was she playing with him?

"Farewell my warlock," she said before gliding away. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she departed, having dropped her tray with the other dirty trays, moving swifter than he thought possible for a human without magic supporting them or maybe she was using magic.

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded, looking to Azriel for any sort of explanation. She was his partner, constant friends and ally and now he turned had to turn to her for an explanation s to what had just happen to him. "Cerisi…"The name was strange to his tongue, yet it had a certain ring to it.

Azriel did not speak for a minute as he played with the name, the strangeness fascinating him. "I do not know Master. That woman is…odd."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "How astute my dear Watson! Absolute bloody brilliant deduction that I could have never have come up on my own," he said dryly.

"British humor. How very droll," the Device shot back.

The last light winked out and the night commanded the house. In the darkness the terrors of the night haunted the dreams and vision of a thousand children. For each child the terrors were real, shadows given form and filled with malevolent intent conjured from the depths of minds that did not understand. Yet for those that knew the darkness there was no fear. For those who faced the true darkness of despair and destruction the night terrors held no power. For those who were exhausted the greatest of nightly horrors could not even touch, such was the case of one Nanoha Takamachi.

The lights went out and she went with them. The long week of endless test was over and she let exhaustion take her. Endless hours of studying half-forgotten information had been regurgitated for the hellish week, but it was finally over. She let out a content sigh. Her bed was soft and familiar. The pillows seemed extra comfortable and plush on this night. The yellow pajamas were cool against her skin as the first breaths of hot summer wind wafted into the room.

"It's finally over," she said into a pillow. She didn't want to even identify which pillow it was. The brainpower needed for such as task was gone. A pillow was a pillow. She let her body shut down and slowly she felt the bliss of sleep take her…

…

…

…

She dreamed. She dreamed a dream that she had never dreamt before. This was no dream of hanging around with Fate and Hayate, or of flying through the skies free as a bird. She stood in an open glade. All around her white birch trees grew; their leaves greener than any leaf she had ever seen. Though the openings between branches she could see other open glades. In the center of the glade she stood in there was pool surrounded by a narrow strip of sand that meet the thick, lush grass.

She was barefoot, but felt nothing on her feet as she walked towards the pool. Here and there she spied flowers, bright pretty things that seemingly turned to look at her, in the grass and shadows of the trees "A dream," she reminded herself. "Nothing, but a dream. I should enjoy it while it lasts." If she thought she flowers turned to look at her then they did. It was her dream.

Kneeling at the edge of the water she looked into pool. Her reflection gazed back at her. Her hair was unbound, but she felt no desire to put it up. She smiled, the reflection smiled, she waved, the reflection waved back, she giggle, the reflection giggled, she pointed a finger at the reflection, the reflection pointed a finger back at her…she froze.

Slowly she giggled once. The reflection giggled.

She giggled again. "A dream, this is a dream," she forced herself to repeat.

The reflection giggled. "A dream, this is a dream," it said back to her.

Wide eyed she backpedaled away from the pool, falling to her butt then crawling away from the pool. The reflection had talked! "It…it…it talked!" She looked at the pool, mistrust in her eyes as she glanced around, but always keeping the pool in her sight.

"Hehehehehehehe,"a light musical voice giggled.

She whirled around to find the source of the voice, but found nothing. Nothing moved in the trees or the glade, the pool was smooth and silent. Once more she found herself looking to the pool.

"Hehehehehehehe!"

She thought she saw movement in the trees. Whirling about she tried to form a weapon, a staff, her staff, Raging Heart, but nothing came. "A dream, this is my dream. I'm the master here."

"Hehehehehehehe!" The voice rang out again as if it found her declaration humorous.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She had faced worse things in life. The rouge defense program had more scary a dream she told herself. A dream could not hurt her. Her dream was hers to dream and dreams didn't hurt their dreamers.

"Such confidence for such a young girl," a sultry female voice cooed from everywhere and nowhere.

Nanoha saw the pool ripple. Waves spread from the center and grew as a light appeared beneath the water. She stood her ground, in part because she refused to run from danger, but the also the trees had grown thicker in mere moments, locking her in the glade. Overhead the sky was clear, but vines were slowly crafting a dome over her head.

"You and I will have such fun! It'd been a long time since someone visited this palace of mine. I was getting lonely. For a moment I had thought man had forgotten about me, yet here you stand, sweet thing. So pure and innocence," the voice trailed off wistfully.

The light was growing in intensity. She covered her eyes and looked away though through closed fingers she could see bits of the lights coming through her skin, blood and flesh. This was wrong. This was a dream, her dream. This was not what she dreamed. She couldn't be dreaming this. She didn't dream like this.

The light stopped and began to fade.

She didn't lower her hand. A childish gesture of hoping the problem would go away if one could not see it, but it gave her some measure of comfort. She heard soft falls and the tinkling of bells. The vines overhead began to retreat as time reversed itself before her eyes. Fully grown trees became sprouts and then seeds buried in the ground.

"You need not fear me, my sweet thing. Here I am your friend. Open your eyes and see," the voice encouraged her.

Slowly she began to unclench her fingers as the voice, the light as she guessed they were the same, encouraged her with sweet words. Every word from that voice was light and airy, sweet as honey and a joy to listen to. With her hand gone she dared to look upon the light, the source of the voice. Standing before her, in the grass was a being that radiated light. The being was female in form, nude and stood in the fresh grass toes wriggling as she did so. Black hair with a single, stark white streak, hung down to the being's ankles. Crystal eyes that shone with every hue of every color watched her. Its face was too perfect, unblemished and pale as the alabaster jars she had seen once in a museum. Everything about the being was perfect; everything was perfectly portioned from the size of its breasts, jiggling ever so slightly as it moved, to the delicate ankles on toned legs.

"Wha-wha-what are you?"

Rosy lips, brighter than a rose, opened to answer. "I am many things, sweet thing. Long did I sleep in this pool, watching the world of men from their dreams, seeking one worthy and you are she, sweet thing. You are the one out of the countless sea of your kind I have chosen. In your ancient past your people knew us well. You walked amongst us when you needed console, you begged boons of us and we both benefited. I am a fey," it declared taking a few graceful steps towards her.

"A what?" Nanoha asked, tilting her head in confusion. She had never heard of these fey. The term was utterly alien to her. "Is it an English word?"

A cease formed where the too perfect eyebrows came together on the being's forehead. "Oh my! It seems too much time has passed or perhaps not enough. Maybe I missed the frame, but anyway we must rectify your lack of knowledge, sweet thing." The crease vanished and the being smiled at her, extending a hand towards her. "Come, let me show you dreamland."

Slowly Nanoha reached out and placed her smaller hand into the being's hand. It smiled, seemingly brighter and pulled her closer. It suddenly pulled her against its breasts and let out a content sigh, "It had been too since I held a sweet thing to my breast, sweet thing. Too long, too long, but we should go. The wonders of the dreamland await us."

She reminded herself it was a dream over and over. She was in control she could escape at any time ort change the dream. This woman was a creation of her mind and nothing more. Dreams couldn't harm a person and this woman couldn't touch her. Going with her would not endanger her, but this was quickly turning into the strangest dream she had ever dreamt. "Show me," Nanoha told the woman confidently, assured in her own power over the dream.

"Oh my sweet thing I will show you many things you will delight in. You will not be disappointed," the woman assured her. "Close your eyes and let us go."

Slowly the girl shut her eyes. There was rushing sound and brief feeling of weightlessness. She could feel grass beneath her toes and opened her eyes. She could feel! The dream had changed again. In glade she had felt nothing from the grass, yet here she could feel the cool grass and the rush of wind on her face. The woman let her go and she stepped back, gazing around. They stood on a mountain meadow that gently rolled down the mountainside. She saw a open valley with a river running through it far below. Large moss covered boulders lay strew across the meadow and mountainside, the result of ancient landslides, but they had become a part of the landscape. "They would make good places to have a picnic," she told herself. Some of the boulders were massive and flat, providing a good view of the valley below.

"A lovely place for a lovely sweet thing, no?" the woman asked behind her.

It was a beautiful place to be that she wouldn't mind staying around for a while. The air was clean and clear, the grass fresh and cool, and she felt alive here. Overhead the sun shone with a gentle light, warming her skin, but not scorching it. Clouds danced in the blue sky. "What is this place?" Nanoha asked, turning to the woman.

"A dream, sweet thing, a dream of a dream. A place born by the dreams of many to craft this place of idyllic beauty. You might call it the dream a dream dreams. Perfection made into a dream, a heaven for some and a hell for others." The woman took Nanoha's hand and led her to a larger boulder. She guided her to edge and they sat, legs hanging off the edge.

"What are you really? And why are you nude?" Nanoha asked again, hoping her dream would answer her instead of using riddles.

The woman laughed, a light and musical laugh, and placed a delicate hand over Nanoha's hand. "I already told my sweet thing, I am a fay. A sprite, a spirit of the woods, dweller of dreams, netherworlder, consular and advisor to kings and peasants alike, smith and magician who has gifted men with weapons they never understood, yet they love us all the more for them. Does my nudity offend you?"

"N-no! Of course not, but if this is a dream and you're female…what does that say about me?" Nanoha's eyes went wide. "Hayate can never find out! I'll never here the end of it!" She could already envision the endless teasing that would follow.

"Do not fret, my sweet thing," the woman assured her, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "This can be our secret, okay? You can dream of all the budding sexuality you want and I won't tell." That voice sent shivers down Nanoha's spine and woman pulled away. "This is a dream, but not a dream. I chose not to adhere to the social norms of your people, clothing rituals and all that, because I am not one of you, sweet thing."

"That makes sense," Nanoha reasoned. The suddenly realization of the silliness of worrying about Hayate finding out about her dream was too funny. Her friend couldn't enter dreams and she didn't have to talk about it. To think she had asked a dream woman to keep it a secret…she was being ridiculous, but couldn't help but laugh at herself. It was such a silly thing to worry about, in a dream no less!

"And now you laugh," the woman said, apparently pleased. "That is good my sweet thing. Laughter keeps you young at heart." She suddenly stopped and fixed the girl with a serious look. Slowly the laughter faded from Nanoha as she realized the face the woman was making. "We must talk seriously know. Time is short, the dream will end soon."

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Nanoha felt oddly at ease with the strange woman even if she was inhumanly beautiful

"Few can call me into their dreams and even fewer can enter my glade, yet you did because I chose you. While this is true there are other factors that must be met. You have come into contact with someone else who has spoken with a fay and contracted with that fay haven't you sweet thing?"

She tried to recall anyone else who might have dreamt this dream before, but she couldn't think of one. Then again it was a dream and most dreams were forgotten so one her friends might have dreamt the dream only to forget about it. "I don't anyone like that," she said with a frown. Try as she might she couldn't recall any conversations about anything involving these fay beings.

"That's okay sweet thing." The woman placed a hand on her shoulder. "Few can realize that have been touched by us and fewer would speak openly about it. Fay dislike sharing their contractors and will go to great lengths to concern them from the sight of others."

"Is that what you want? To contract with me?" Nanoha swiftly inferred.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I want you to contract we me, sweet thing. I want your sweetness and my own to become one like some many others in the past had. Of course you will only benefit from it."

"How? I already have my magic and the TSAB says I'm extremely powerful." She gently kicked her legs, feeling the rough stone hit her skin.

"True, but what I offer you is nothing you can ever possess through magic. I am older than old, pure and primal power that had been lost to your kind since the end of the Great Revolt. I have seen things no mortal memory can recall and fought with beings backed by all the power of the heavens and hells. What I offer you is that power, my power, to fight and protect." The woman paused and raised a finger. "The Book of Darkness, it was overwhelmingly powerful wasn't it? You didn't see a path to victory then and I offer you one now."

"We beat it though! Hayate, Signum and the rest destroyed it from the inside," Nanoha protested.

The woman gave a mocking bark of laughter. "Oh how wrong you are sweet thing. You thought you beat the darkness of the program, yet you are deluded by the physical and do not see beyond. Always it is the unseen that kills, even if it acts through the seen. Power exists on many levels, your physical power and your magic cannot harm the unseen threats that lurk around you. Every step you take in the waking world is filled with shadows that lurk ready to destroy. The shadows will tear and claw away at your friends until they bleed to death. Even though the physical damage may fade, the physical form die, the rest of the darkness is still there. Against this power I offer you my contract sweet thing, attack the heart and save your friends from the unseen threats or reject it and they will fall into eternal death when the shadows come. Beyond life they will find no hope if you reject the contract."

"How can I trust you?" Nanoha told the woman in a quiet voice. "I can't trust you."

The woman gave her a devilish smirk and stood. "Good, you've taken the first step. Nothing is ever as it seems. I will give you time to consider my offer, though I withdraw my offer to guide you around dreamland. Only my contractor may use me in such a way." She turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Nanoha cried, stumbling to her feet. "How do I get back home?"

The woman chuckled darkly. "Isn't that always the question? This is a dream, you said it yourself my sweet thing. Take care until we meet again my sweet thing."

There was a flash of light that blinded Nanoha and the woman vanished. When she looked again she was alone in the meadow. The winds grew cold suddenly, sending chills down her spine. She almost took a step the boulder they had sat on when she looked down. Out of the earth came a red liquid, oozing up and spreading. Looking closer at the green grass she saw the red replacing the green. The boulder beneath her feet moved and she fell. With a splash she fell into ooze, coating her face and front of her body.

The rumbling of stone caused her to look back to the boulder in fear of the unknown, coating her lower back in the ooze while doing so. The boulder had risen from the ground on spindly legs and slowly turned. The sound of creaking caused her to look to the forest that had been near the far edge of the meadow, but now was very, very close. Trees moved as withering vines and roots lashing out as they crawled towards her, send chunks of earth and stone into the air as they crawled. Something slimy touched her leg.

She looked down and screamed. The ooze had taken the form of bugs. More of the ooze on her face turned to bugs that each plunged their hairy needle like legs into her flesh. She tried to wipe the ooze from her face and eyes, but her hands were covered. More of the bugs formed on her hands and face. They began to latch on to her face as she rubbed in vain.

The trees reached for her. Vines circled her wrist and pulled tight, freeing her form the ooze on the ground, but the bugs on her still dug deeper into her skin. Fire coursed her veins as the ooze entered her body. Human blood became ooze, ooze became bugs and the bugs stung from the inside. She withered in agony, but her feet were snared by tree roots, screaming in pain and horror.

The boulder had turned on it spindly legs and stared at her. Thousands of eyes with slit pupils gazed at her helpless form. She couldn't move, her body suffered like she had never suffered, and the eyes reveled in the sight of her torture. Vines pulled at her, threatening to pop arm and legs as they pulled. She could see the boulder move, the bugs avoided her eyes. She felt more vines locker her body in place, touching everything, but her eyes.

Slit pupils grew large as the boulder lunged at her. She panicked and scream, but the vines were quicker to fill her mouth to silence her. The boulder fell towards as she tried to wish them away, wish away the pain with tears in her eyes… It hurt! Each eye suddenly became a mouth. The silted eye parted and countless cruelly shaped teeth fell on her. She knew her fate in that moment, food for this thing. Vines gave way as the mouths fell; she felt vine and tender flesh be pierced. She tried to scream and felt blood in her mouth as savage teeth did their cutting work. Teeth moves and felt the flesh begin to tear. It was going to take a hunk her chest as food and then the rest of her! She her bone snap and-

…

…

…

She opened her eyes to darkness. Cold sweat dripped down her face. Her body ached in pain. The nightmare was fresh in her mind. The treating and pulling, agony and fire, emotions flooded her all at once. She cried, she wailed in pain and fear. Lights came one and she saw shapes she knew to be her parents and older siblings in the open door, but they were not. Each face was the horrible silted eye, opening and closing that mouth that had eaten her.

They called out and all she heard was cracks of bones, the clicks of bugs, and whacking vines. She tried to bury herself into the corner of her bed to escape the horror. They came towards her. "Get away!" she screamed over and over, but they came anyway. Hands were vines seeking to pull her apart. She tried to swat them away, but four pairs came for her. One of the eyes grew closer and she screamed. "Leave me alone! GET AWAY!"

"Nanoha!"

The world shattered. Vines and silted eyes shattered as the light came on. Her breath came in short gasps and bursts. She hugged her knees for comfort as her mother placed an arm around her shaking form. She quivered like a leaf and sagged against her mother's warmth. Her mother didn't have silted eyes or vines for hands, she was perfectly normal. The nightmare was over she told herself over and over under her breath. "…over. It's over. It's over," she chanted to herself as her mother made gentle cooing noises, stroking her hair.

The night was hardly over. There would be no sleep for her. The eyes were there. She wouldn't sleep; she wouldn't give the boulder what it wanted. Her mother never left her side, even as her father waved her older siblings back to bed. She vaguely recalled her mother helping her downstairs and sitting on the couch as her father prepared some tea. "…over. It's over. It's over," she continued to chant to herself even as he father sat a cup of hot tea before her and took her free side.

She continued her mantra regardless, quivering and curled up. "…over. It's over. It's over."

The clash of metal rang out as I entered the gateway. The men posted there, Simon and Kei, gave me a swift salute (clenched fist over the breastbone, just below the throat). They were loyal men form my father's years adventuring and pirating. They years were catching up with them, but retirement was far from their wishes. They had trained me and the other servants to fight and to kill. "Gate duty?" I jabbed as I passed.

"Someone has ta do it," Kei told me gruffly. "Your brother is back."

I froze. My older brother was back…why? "Why?" I asked even though I doubted they knew themselves. Simon gave a shrug and returned his gaze to the street, regarding each passing stranger with equal suspicion. Simon One-eyed, or so he had been called in his younger days, was the silent type. He only spoke with the greatest of reservation and only when the greatest need arose.

"Can't say for sure, your brother took the Black. I can't recall a Black walking away in one piece, dozens usally," Kei said with a snort of laughter.

His black humor was hardly funny at the moment. The last time my brother and I had spoken it had been harsh words on both sides. He had announced his intention to take the Black at dinner and I demanded a reason when why he felt shamed enough to take the Black. He answered and had refused to accept his self-centered answers. Over and over he told me why and I didn't listen. Then I had attacked him, hoping to beat sense into him. The fight that had ensured was one-sided; he had destroyed me in words and power. He was older and stronger. With a simple fork he had me at his mercy and those cold eyes had frozen me in place. The next day he left and for the last five years I had heard nothing from him. My father was an associate of the Black, but any word my father sent to my father never passed my sight. Even me father's office was clean of any documents relating to my brother or the Black.

"Your sisters wanted ta duel him. They're in the training yard," Kei informed me as the clash of metal rang out louder, this time followed by a loud curse made in pain. "It's seems the Black has only honed his skills," Kei said with a knowing smile.

"Indeed." I walked away and into the main courtyard. Through the ornate bloodclay entrance leading to the training yard I could see a crowd of servants and others, guests and family, standing around. Wrought metal work, shaped into a thousand different flowers and beasts from across the universe, was attached to the wall and provided just enough foot and hand room for me to climb up to onto the bloodclay tiles that decorated the top of the wall. My mother had often yelled at me to stay off the walls, but I never listened. It was a simple matter, even now, for me to reach the top of the wall. I found my balance as I stood in the shadow of the multi-level dining hall.

In the training yard I saw my brother and younger sister clash. Blood poured form my sister's left shoulder, where her shirt had been cut away. My sister rushed, her curved sword whistling as she brought a savage blow towards my black clad brother's head. He caught the blow and shoved her away with a twist of the long blade the Black favored. He didn't attack even as my sister fell to the ground, sending a dust cloud up as she coughed and tried to regain her breath. She let out a battle cry, seized her sword and rushed him. She lunged at the last moment, aiming for the legs; a move of desperation on her part.

I heard the clash of slipsteel and the cry of pain. My brother stood over my sister, his blade at her throat. My sister's sword fell a good distance away, quivering from the impact. I couldn't make out my brother's face from the distance, but I imagined it was the cold dead stare he had given me that night in the dining hall.

My sister cracked a smile and yielded as her hand bled. The blade at her throat vanished, quicker than a blink. It seemed my brother had picked up more than one trick in the Black. Their techniques were famed through the Empire and beyond, but feared at the same time. The Empress's Sheath style had taken more lives than any man cared to count in the name of the Empress. The trail of fools trying to master the style grew by the day as untrained boys took their arms, legs and heads off in their vain efforts to imitate the Black.

The crowd began to disperse, their entertainment over for the moment. My sister huffed in good nature as Doctor Ashera pulled her towards the small hospital she ran out of the compound for the sake of the staff and my family. I watched my brother pull the curved blade free from the earth as the last of the onlookers dispersed.

As the last servant vanished back into the dining hall he looked at me. I suppressed a snarl and dropped to the ground, an easy jump for me. "You're back," I said coldly.

He nodded and tossed my sister's blade towards me. Whistler she had named it and it still whistled as I caught it in my right hand. I took a moment to get a better look at his face. He seemed gaunter than I remember, but those eyes were still cold. Small scars ran over his nose that looked like some sort of claw mark. A thick stumble coated his face, making it seemed as if he had been living rough for the last few days. "Fight," he ordered. His voice was gruffer than I remembered.

I weighed Whistler for a moment and dropped the blade to my side, keeping it in a loose grip. "No, I will lose."

"Then fight."

"You are one of the Black Apostles. I am the heir of a wealthy merchant family. We don't need to fight." I almost wanted to drop the blade and walk away. A cool bath awaited me and the maids would be willing and wanting to pleasure me as was their duty.

"So?"

His statement told me he saw no difference in men now. All men were men before his eyes and would fight. I could have fought him and I make had stood a chance. He had trained me before he left, but after his departure I had all but abandoned the sword in favor of the pen and politics. I might have been able to get a few good strikes in before he disarmed me, but I wasn't willing to push my luck any more toward. "I have things to do and they start with a bath." I turned away, heading for the main courtyard and the apartments on the other side.

"A fat merchant, is that it? Become like the others, overweight with a different set of maids to warm his bed every night even though mother is still willing to pleasure him. You want to be a pig like him with flowered scents disguising your pig sweat, rutting humans with your pig dick, and dying like a pig in a pile of your own filth. Trash," he barked.

"Shut up traitor!" I roared, whipping Whistler towards him. I saw red even as the clang of slipsteel rang out. Whistler lived up to its name as I attacked over and over. Each blow was blocked or dodged and I snarled at him, growled at him. I knew I had a dozen openings where he could have ended the fight in a moment, yet he took none of them. My foot lashed out and was batted away by the flat of his blade. I fell to the ground, as he loomed over me.

With a contemptuous kick Whistler went flying away from my grasp. I felt cold slipsteel on my throat and froze. The red haze slowly died away as I heaved on the ground. I hadn't acted like that in a long time. My breath came in uneven rhythms. I had become rather lax about exercise, but I was by no means fat.

He gave me a disgusted look and slowly moved the sword point away from my chin. "I don't waste my blade killing pigs." He placed his blade over my crotch. "However, I am more than willing to neuter this fat little piggy."

"You wouldn't dare," I declared with far more bravo than I felt. I didn't know this man anymore. This wasn't the brother who had left me five years ago.

As if to prove his point he pushed his blade slowly forwards, ready to take my manhood in a single stab. "One stab and the piggy can't be pleasured by his maid whores. Then the problem would be solved, no more pigs coming from your pig seed. Would you like that?"

"Why are you here if you hate us? We never asked you to come back," I snarled at him, in part from fear of losing my manhood and in a desperate attempt to save my manhood by keeping him talking.

"That is enough you two!"

My father, my father was here! The blade retreated back to its sheath. I scrambled to my feet as my brother went on one knee, a symbol of service to one of superior status. On the steps of the dining hall, where the small patio lay, my father watched us. His large form was all muscle even in his graying age. His hair might be receding, but he was a perfect specimen for how a man might age with grace. Every night he took a dozen women and outlasted them, or so the stories said. I knew it was half a dozen and none of them was my mother. His tunic was unlaced, showing his muscular chest and at his side, sheathed in gold and wyrm leather, was his greatsword, Destroyer.

In his youth father had been a Solaris Knight of the Empire during the counterstrike operations against the Reaper. It was said that he had lead a band of Solaris Knights straight to the black gates were the Reaper himself waited for everyman to try him in combat. Legends said hundreds of men and women of power and glory had fallen before the Reaper that day. Heroes of the Warlords legions had fallen, champions of the Empire had been smashed aside; mage and knight fell in the vain attempt to breach the city. Father had smashed through the ranks of the hell born, undying servants of the Reaper, the Inferno Riders. Few mortal men could match the Riders cloaked in flames, but father was reported to have slain the undying that day. It was said that when father finished with the Riders, the Reaper had laughed and applauded his efforts. The Warlords spared him in that moment, swearing that one day father would serve him in life or death, but for the moment father would be allowed to live. That day the Solaris Knights had been wiped out, expect for father who became the last of their order and vowed to avenge his fallen brothers who had fallen by the hand of the Warlord known as the Reaper.

"You have called for the Black Apostles and we have answered with the blessing of the Empress, hallowed be her name. I, as her apostle, stand ready to obey your commands," my brother gravely intoned.

My father looked at my brother gravely and utters the words that I could not forget. "Then the war begins again."

A/N: I'm back! And in style this time! I've lived, learned and written what I hope will be a far better season of the Warlords saga than season one was, though the last arc was that bad in my opinion, but the first arc sucked(I'm own worst critic!).

On subject, season two starts with a bang this time around. Three years have passed since the Cathedral of Ice Incident and the characters have grown up. It's a lot easier to write an older Nanoha (& Co) than younger ones, hence why I tried to avoid them in CoA. MR(Madness Rising) is already living up to its name! I hope this is a stronger start than CoA incorporating the horror elements to this fantasy/sci-fi/horror blend.

It will be a fun ride though this story as everything falls to madness on the eve of war! So I hope you will join me as we explore this oddly fascinating world that surprises even me at every twist and turn. Sometimes it seems as if the characters are more alive than just words on a word document…

I am looking for a new beta reader too. If you're willing to take the position send me a PM and we will talk.

Also I am looking to expand the Warlords universe. If another talented writer(s) is(are) willing to collaborate on a side story(s) that I have sort of plotted out(or have idea so their own to expand the backstory) let me know in a PM.

Questions, comments and concerns should be placed in a review or PM. Remember to read and review!