Arthur Kirkland was no stranger to moving around, especially when it came to his job. As one of the current agents in the International Magical Prohibition Program, he was always moving from country to country, trying to stop uprisings against the different governments. It wasn't that the international law deemed magic illegal, it simply said that only the well-trained were allowed to have magic, and the simple civilian could not use their magic. So many protested, that there were regular fights between the rebels and the agents. The agents were winning this brutal war, and there were few countries who hadn't instilled complete control over their civilians.

So here he stood, before the Eiffel Tower, in Paris, France, the city in which the rebels were the fiercest, for this was their most powerful stronghold. It could not be found, but with Arthur's help, that would change. Arthur was one of the strongest agents of his time. He had a familiar, making him the first recorded person to have one after forty-three years. It had arrived when he was very young, on his sixth birthday, when his parents were trying to get him to his vegetables when he said that rabbits ate carrots and he most definitely did not, and wha-la! A flying rabbit with spearmint fur appeared, and being a child with limited creativity, he called it Flying Mint Bunny. The name stuck, and now he was with the little friend even to this day. No one else could see it, but there was proof of its existence through the magic scanners, and it helped him with minor retrievals. With his trusty spellbook, he could use the most complicated of Spells and had most Attack and Capture Spells memorized.

This was a different story, though; he wasn't sure where his job was taking him this time. Some jobs were easy, while others left lasting marks. His former assistant and younger brother, Alfred F. Jones, had been killed in an aeroplane accident while trying to hunt down a Russian serial killer named Ivan Braginsky.

Alfred had failed, even though it cost his life. No body had been recovered, and Ivan had gotten off scot-free. It had left Arthur with a further distaste of the rebels, and he had made the choice to move from his station in London all the way to a place as foreign and as odd as Paris.

The French agency would have been a humble looking building if it weren't for the magic water fountains. They were lined with silver and the water was a beautiful silver-blue. While Arthur didn't want to admit it, the French agency had style-what they were lacking was the skill and tenacity required to fight with the rebels.

Sighing, he walked up to the door and pulled it open. It was the same as every other agency: walls made of marble, black and gold clock upon the central pillar, the waiting chairs against the wall. It was particularly quiet, except for the non-stop clicking of keys as the consular officer at the front desk typed away. Her typing was loud and furious. He walked past her, ignoring the noises. He had an important meeting to get to, and he refused to be late. Nothing would make him late.

He flipped his gaze down to his stopwatch. Five minutes. He quickened his pace, glad that every agency had the same structure. Meeting room, if he was correct, would be on the right. Quickening his pace, he gently opened the door labelled 'meeting room', and opened it to find only two people in the room. Sitting down at the table, he unclipped his pen from his coat and waited for the beginning of the meeting. He was glad to be early, even if it was by a simple four minutes. The man at the head of the table greeted him with a nod, keeping his eyes on his computer, while the other man was asleep. A cat was also sleeping on his shoulder.

Since Arthur was sitting at a square table, and the two men were sitting on opposite sides, he had to infer that they either hated each other or there would only be four people at the meeting. It was rare that the meetings only contained a few people; often they would throw around ideas in a room full of people until they settled on the wisest and most careful ideas.

The door was pushed open silently, and the very last person arrived, taking his seat on the last side of the table. He was silvery blond and his eyes a dull blue that held the shine of old metal. In his hair was a barrette in the shape of a cross.

"I'm late," was all he said, but no one reacted.

"Should we start?" Arthur asked, a bit unnerved by the lack of responses. He pulled out a document of his transfer from his pocket and set it on the table.

"We can do introductions first," said the man with the cat. He was awake now, blinking away the tears of sleep, gently moving his cat to his lap. His voice was whispery and low. "My name's Heracles Karpusi. I was moved from Greece after we crushed their rebellion." His vibrant green eyes almost felt as if they bore a hole through Arthur, so he looked the other way, to the man at the head of the table.

"I am Yao Wang, all the way from China." That was all he said.

"Lukas Bondevik," the blonde man said roughly. "Norway." The cross made more sense now, but personally Arthur would not sport a symbol of his nationality, for fear of being recognized by an enemy.

"Now you have met our triple threat," Yao said smoothly. "Rebellion is bad in France because no one wants to deal with them. We are the only three who care enough to."

"The only three who can," Lukas muttered. "All the others end up dead or traumatized."

Arthur nearly winced. That was a stabbing, grueling detail that his employers had painfully left out. He figured why-he had rarely turned down a job, but the ones that he suspected might end like Alfred's he avoided. He kept his composure, however, and looked at the others expectantly. He faintly wondered what exactly he had agreed to do on the job.

"We must infiltrate the rebels. One of us must gain their trust, while the other three track the rebel's base, movements, and plans through the messages left for us. We are here to decide what identity to assume and which one of us it should be. Any suggestions or volunteers?" Heracles asked. Arthur judged that Heracles was not going to volunteer himself, and he was correct. The room was quiet. No one wanted to infiltrate the rebels, not unless they had to. The rebels were different everywhere, some more barbaric than others. The French rebels were famous for their punishments. They may have just been rumours, but the rumours were enough to scare away lots of young agents. The silence in the room was deafening, and Arthur could no longer take it. Before he could think of what else he could do- possibly figuring out what identity to assume first, possibly-he blurt out the words that would change his life forever.

"I'll do it." He was quiet, almost silent, but they all heard him. They all looked impressed with his bravery, and all were surprised. Even the cat paid attention, lifting his small tawny head to see the foolish agent. Needless to say, as soon as the words were out of his mouth Artur regretted it. There was no going back, he knew it. At least he would see Alfred again soon. Sure, they'd both be dead, but hey! What were the cons?

Arthur had always paid attention. He had always listened and done well in school, yet now, at one of the most important meetings of his life, he was not. He could not. He somehow could not hear what Yao was saying.

He was brought back into the moment by Yao clearing his throat and increased volume. "Arthur, are you listening?"

"Forgive me, no." He was trying to put on his best manners.

"You need a new identity."

"I can go by Allistor, I guess." At this moment, his brother seemed to come to mind. "And I can keep my same appearance."

"Are you sure?" Lukas asked skeptically. "You haven't seen them yet. You might know some."

Flying Mint Bunny sat on the Brit's shoulder, trying to give advice that he did not understand. One of these days he'd get around to giving the rabbit some ability to speak English.

Swallowing hard, he tried to find some sort of way to weasel out of this responsibility. "Actually, you're quite right. I haven't seen them yet. It's probably better if you take this case."

"I guess I can. I'm not sure, though, I'm too well-recognized." The others said likewise, and at this moment, he knew that he was in very deep trouble-with no way to escape. He'd already done things like these, but never in France, not in the most dangerous part of the world for an agent.

As the other three began to talk, Arthur felt their voices fade away. He had been a bloody idiot, trying to save the tension and act as if he was brave. He was done for, no matter what kind of stunt he pulled to get out of it. Avoiding digging his head into the table, he let his muscles release their tension and he frustratedly gritted his teeth.

Flying Mint Bunny hopped onto the table and crawled towards Lukas. To his surprise, Lukas gently pet Flying Mint Bunny's head and murmured something to it.

"Can you see him?" Arthur blurted.

Lukas nodded. "He's very fond of you." The slightest twinge of amusement almost came to his face, but he shoved it aside and shooed away Flying Mint Bunny with a wave of his hand.

Rolling his eyes, Yao flicked his pen to the side as Heracles petted his cat. "Can we continue?"

"Yes."

Lukas fixed the clip in his hair, which had been falling out of place. "All right, so we have agreed that Arthur is going?" The three of them, nodding, each revealed a file from their pocket and shoved it in my direction. Flying Mint Bunny squeaked at him, and he scowled.

"There are three suspects we were all supposed to look into," Heracles whispered. "But we're-"

"Speak louder, for heaven's sake!" Lukas took over. "There are three of them, and you're to spy on one of them. They're just suspected, but once one is confirmed, your job is to befriend them and then we can finally crush this rebellion."

"Which is the easiest?" Arthur asked, feeling as if this were an inappropriate question for the moment. However, he needed it to be answered.

They all shrugged. "I'd say Francis Bonnefoy, unless you want to go with Ivan Braginsky or the Albino," Heracles offered. "Francis is the noble with an estate the size of some nature reserves."

He was confused but took a note of the last comment. That would be hard to get to and from. "Aren't Ivan Braginsky and the Albino confirmed rebels?"

"They're rebels, but we do not know if they're with the rebellion," was the answer he received from Yao, who looked as if he just wanted Arthur to take the job and go off to die already.

Arthur nodded, and Lukas clasped his hands together. "We're done, then. Good luck, have fun, there's a note on what kind of flowers you'd like at your-"

"Not now, Lukas. Be quiet." Heracles, at least, seemed the tiniest bit remorseful, but when he turned his head to look, he found that the Greek was simply trying to sleep.

His head was beginning to hurt, and his stomach was feeling sick. All of his nerves were combining to give him HD visions of what could and probably would be his death. Spots swam before his eyes, but he blinked them away. He was not weak.

But he took the job anyway because there was nothing he could do. His own fate was no longer in his hands, but at the mercy of Francis's alliance.