They stood on the outcropping, cool evening breeze gently ruffling their clothes. No one knew they were out, having stolen a few moments outside the castle with the help of their chamberlains.
It was an overcast day. Sunset was coming in a few hours, and they would have just enough time to make it back for what would assumedly be their last peaceful meal.
Critias shifted the pennant off of his shoulder where he had been carrying it for nearly a league, handing it mutely over to the shortest warrior of the three. It was held expectantly in the large, calloused hand for a few moments before it was reluctantly taken.
All of them were silent, almost reverentially so, as the jade-haired man set the pennant on fire and held it over the edge. As the embroidered fabric turned to ash, the remnants were carried off by the same breeze that caressed the three of them.
Hermos was studiously ignoring the entire process, staring at the clouds that promised a storm as he listened to the crack and pop of the fire as it decimated the metal weave of their lord's crest. The smoke that would have undoubtedly marked their position had they been any closer to the city made his eyes water in it acridity, dark and greasy clouds fading away in the air.
As of this night, their allegiance was officially broken, if only to them. When they had come to the castle all those years ago, swearing to protect Atlantis and all of her citizens, none of them realized it would come to rebelling against their king. The rest of the royal family had either died or fled, and Lord Dartz had gone mad in the process.
In the dark hours of other nights, secreted away in their rooms, they had postulated different outcomes to this unintended civil war. It didn't take them long to realize that their utopian island was headed for self-destruction.
They knew, one day, that fighting on the behalf of the people would not protect them. Seeing the populace decimated by these strange, terrible creatures tore at their hearts, but for all their skill in either the arcane arts or their chosen weapon there was nothing that could be done.
Timaeus wasn't even bothering to look at the flag, though he had a firm grip on the staff, not once wavering. As Critias watched him silently, he shared a subtle glance with Hermos. The jade-haired knight gave his all for his country, and the both of them knew that it was infinitely more painful for him.
It had been him who tentatively suggested the morose solution. He was the most adept at magery, and the spell that that Timaeus and his familiar concocted was nothing short of horrifying. In the end, though, all of them agreed that it was the best chance that they had with the way events were playing out.
When the last of the pennant had burned and the ashes had blown away, the three battle-hardened and weary men exchanged looks. There was nothing left to be done, now. All the reagents had been acquired, and the appropriate arrays had been drawn in a safe location. No doubt that word would spread soon, and they would have to move quickly.
Timaeus tossed the pole onto the ground, expression carefully blank, and the three knights made their way back to the castle.
One last dinner wouldn't be amiss.