Braig took Ansem downstairs, a hand on his back to help lead him along. The guards followed in suit, preparing for any further outburst from the guest. Down the ritzy stairs they went, and then they made a sharp right.

"Y'know, it's been a looong time since we've had an alchemist with something of interest," Braig told Ansem, who seemed highly uncomfortable in his position. Why wouldn't he be? He was in a place where he held no power, no status. His daughter was being sent to who knew where, prepped for who knew what. He loathed that part with every ounce of his being. He would become a slave just to save her from what this man obviously had prepared.

"…ey. Old dude? Hey!" Braig shouted in Ansem's ear.

"Oh, er…what?" he blurted senselessly, as if awaking from a daze. He had actually been contemplating any possible means of escape from this accursed yet tempting palace.

"I said: what can y'tell me about this…uh, thing?"

"You'll see once we get there, sir," Ansem muttered, a bit of his arrogance coming back. He knew he had much to fear from one with such power, that he was certain, but he couldn't help it. He relished in the position of knowing something others did not, especially with young ones as arrogant as the young ruler next to him.

Braig raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more on the subject. Their feet led them to the outside, which was blistering hot. The coliseum: the one area unblessed by the waters within the city. Here, there was nothing but blistering heat to welcome its visitors. Sand easily sank into your shoes—if you were wearing any, that is. Going without shoes was a foolhardy act. Going to the coliseum, however, wasn't a bright idea, either. Up ahead was their destination: a ring made of sand and stone, built from sweat and tears of many workers that had died for the cause. Those who visited their then didn't bat an eyelash as they stepped upon the edifice so valued by its creators, so eagerly and enthusiastically constructed at the expense of their lives. Such a thought was morbid and saddening, if not slightly ironic. Those of wealth and power worked with those who were poor in this ring, and while all things weren't exactly "fair", only the poor had the vague idea of what the coliseum could one day be.

"My lord, do you wish shade?" a guard inquired.

"Nahh, letting a little thing like the sun get t'ya is pretty pathetic. Let's get tans!" Braig laughed heartedly, patting Ansem on the back.

Ansem actually wanted some shade and didn't care if this man thought him pathetic for such a desire. While he wanted to tell the guard to find them shade until reaching the coliseum, he was in no position for such a request, especially if their ruler wanted the opposite. So, he bore with the heat and the sweltering sunlight that was unmerciful to the plants that wished to surface underneath the sands.

To his great fortune, the coliseum's entrance was not far. The trek across the sands was exhausting in itself. Going under the stone arch that was the entrance, Ansem let out a deep sigh of relief. What a difference shade made! Even some of the guards relaxed in the shade—out of sight of their ruler, of course.

"Heyy, by the way," Braig brought up, as they made a right in the main hall into a hall of cages, "what can y'tell me about little Rita?"

Ansem eyed the man warily. He knew what he was getting at, but he couldn't help asking: "What do you wish to know?"

"Ohh, the usual. Basics. As in…how old she is."

"Years, months, or days?" Ansem offered. He could decipher hours and even minutes if given only a minute, but he didn't dare pull off a more-arrogant remark than the one he just uttered.

After an odd look from Braig, he answered: "Years, y'coot. Years."

"Centuries, decades? Or alone?" Very few that didn't practice in science knew of the different scales to measure times. Centuries and decades, and even millennia and eons, were all different aspects of measuring the subject of "years", and all were very new.

"Ha ha! Let's be a little different and say…decades!" Braig was enjoying himself. At least that was a positive. Ansem commended him if he even knew what "decades" meant.

"One-point-five decades."

"Ahh, so she's fifteen?" Braig smirked, putting a hand under his defined chin.

Ansem grimaced. He didn't like the gleam in his brown eyes or the low growl in his throat as he had said that. At least he was intelligent enough to not only recognize the amount "decades" held, but also to convert it into lone years. It wasn't a difficult feat, but still.

"So, what is she, your gal?"

"No!" Ansem denied, disgusted by the mere thought. "She is my daughter!"

"…That a 'no'?" Ansem had to admit: this man had his clever points and his…simple points.

"That is a 'no'," Ansem verified, as they reached the end of the hall. He didn't like the way Braig's lips twitched lightly at the corners into a smirk when he said that.

The small group turned to a great creature held in the cage. In its nervous state, the Veil Lizard was turning from invisible to visible in quick spurts. Ansem knew that was a defense mechanism, and if these people weren't careful, the creature was likely to let out its offensive attack instead of just going on the defensive.

"Whoaa-ho-ho! This is the creature? …I like it! Definitely not human," Braig deciphered, fully intrigued and amused. He approached the cell, putting a hand under his chin and scrutinizing every detail to the creature. It glared at him with its bugged eyes. "Hey, this thing got a name?"

"It's a Veil Lizard. Quite dangerous, these," Ansem answered, unable to help taking pride in his work. The Veil Lizard was one of his favorite successes from his research.

"Uh-huh. And…how's it…not there, and then there?" Braig phrased with difficulty. Who could blame him? This was one of the first cases of invisibility coming into the material world.

"It is one of its special power. One of them. It releases a cloaking over itself to blend in with the colors of its surroundings…to escape from predators or to hide from its prey. Right now, it views you as its predators. If you are not careful, it shall go on the offensive—and that is never a pretty sight," Ansem explained.

"Uh-huh," Braig repeated again. He was in deep thought about something while watching the Veil Lizard. Ansem was a little cautious of the man's thoughts, but didn't give it any real worry.

"My lord! My lord! Th-this girl…!" one of the guards shouted from down the hall.

When the two men turned around, something suddenly latched onto Ansem.

"Rita!" he exclaimed, almost a sigh of relief. He gazed down at his daughter with care, placing a hand on her smooth, black hair, which held blue sheens even in the dim light of the cage hall. She wore something else other than the cloak exact to the one he was still wearing, but he didn't notice that. She buried her face into his chest, keeping her arms tightly wrapped around him for solace. He smiled down softly at her like he had in the carriage. He was honestly grateful she had escaped and found her way to him, even though he knew she would indisputably be taken back.

"Hey, what's she doing out?" Braig shot at the sentinel that was running their way.

"I-I-I was watching the Great Chamber when all of a sudden…she burst out of the doors and took off! She's…she's not human!" the guard cried with typical anguish.

"Feh! Carelessness, that's all you got," Braig muttered, smacking the guard on the shoulder.

The guard staggered forward a bit, then quickly regained his footing. Ansem looked on for fear of something else happening to the guard. Would he be ordered to be executed? Would he be whipped, or tortured some other form? When no such order left Braig's lips, he was astounded. Such benevolence! When compared to how many lords treated their servants when they misbehaved in such a manner. He didn't know whether to praise this man or call him foolhardy. Considering the great respect and fear his servants showed towards him, though, he couldn't help but be a little more eased at being in that castle at that time.

"Get 'er off 'im," Braig directed one of the sentinels with a wave of his hand.

The sentinel quickly went to work. With not even a quick apology, he removed the family embrace. Ansem could finally see what his daughter had on, and he was repelled with a mixture of shock and disgust.

Her form was draped in a short gown. Tied around the waist by a thin sash, it ended right at her knees and had no sleeves. Like a typical robe, it was held together only by the thin sash. Made from shimmering, fine, violet threads much like the gleam of her hair, it was of thin make and seemed to drape every aspect to her voluptuous body. From the chest to the waist to the hips, it loosely left any onlooker to instant infatuation. Quite the change from the grimy bag of a cloak she wore before.

Ansem turned his face away from her, while all the others couldn't look away. Braig's eyes widened and gleamed with wayward hilarity, his lips turned up into an open laugh. Rita, meanwhile, held the same detached glower as before. She didn't understand her position, nor did she frankly care. Her eyes twitched from those around her to her father.

"Heh! She cleans up quiiite nicely," Braig remarked, taking a few steps towards her.

She took a step back, against her holder. The guard didn't see her from the position the others did, so he wasn't affected by her tempting form. He held on with good strength, putting his mind towards the order of his ruler instead of what was in front of him. It was a good quality in a servant: total obedience.

"Little Rita. There's no way you can be fifteen with this in front of me," he commented, waving his hand to signify her entire body.

She gave no reaction this time. His smirk grew wider as she met his gaze with a fierce, silent glare. He finally got a response when she twitched her head away from him after he set his hand to cup her chin. He swiftly leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She struggled lightly against the guard, her expression twisting to a scowl. Ansem kept his face away, unaware of the sight taking place before him. Braig snatched her left arm in his hand tightly to keep her still. She continued to struggle despite his tight grip that would've made other girls cry.

"Heh," he snickered, when he pulled away and let her go. She scowled at him and continued to struggle. "Take 'er back—and no goof-ups," he ordered the guard, who nodded immediately and hustled her out with two other sentries following him.

"Tch. Now, then! About your 'Veil Lizard'," Braig addressed, wiping his thumb against where a small bit of blood trickled down. The girl had bit her right when he'd pressed his lips against hers. He hadn't shown weakness when she did so, but he was slightly angered by it.

Ansem lifted his head, thanking whatever powers that may be that his daughter was out of the room. He hated her being showcased like that and wished he could just drape a sheet over her and run off.

"…I think I'll keep ya here! Welcome aboard, Ansem!" Braig cheered, slapping him again on the back.

He staggered forward a bit by the sudden contact, but he couldn't hide his smile. He was accepted; at least that meant he could perform his research in the open without any need for hatred from the public. But…what did that mean for Rita?

"And Rita?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Well, after that, she's gonna need some proper backlash. Buuut, yeah. I guess she can stay," Braig smirked.

Ansem looked down at the sand over his feet. Should he have told him about Rita's existence? He decided not to for the moment, instead appreciating his new position.

x~X*X~x

The guard was still dragging the girl out to the castle. She gave up struggling now that her father and that strangely-dressed man were out of sight. She moved the taste of that man's blood in her mouth, her throat burning with its essence.

She was thrown back into the Great Chamber. After regaining her balance, she turned her head to look at one pile of clothing. It was colored with burnt-orange and golden poppy clothing. She thought for a moment, then decided on a plan.

"Get back—h-hey!" the guards yelled, when they were covered in warm-colored clothes. Blinded, they fell backwards, as Rita ran out.

She ran and ran and ran. When a line of sentries stopped her from leaving the main entryway, she decided to go down the left hallway, opposite the one Ansem and Braig had taken to get to the coliseum. She ran and ran, past tables and past bookshelves. She could easily outrun the puny servants, and she swiftly darted between bookshelves and floors of the immense library she had wandered into on her escapade. The ceiling was a glass dome, seeping in sunlight from the bright skies above, which showcased the sun being right in the middle of high-noon and ducking below the horizon. The light shining in was a tint of Alice blue, enveloping the tenné wood and the multicolored bounds of the books. The sunset-colored tiles didn't dare make a sound when her uncovered feet fell upon them in her hurry.

Her speed came to a abrupt halt when she full-on collided with a physical mass.

"Gah!" the mass cried out, and there was a flurry of papers.

The two people fell down. Rita fell straight to the ground, as the other braced himself up on his hands and then promptly hopped back up on his two feet.

Slightly stunned, Rita shook her head, her heavy black hair weighing the motion down. When she raised her head, she found herself meeting dusty-blue eyes.

"Since when were…ah," the person said in a tired voice. His mussy slate gray hair, which seemed to have been left unattended since awakening, just about fully covered one half-lidded, piercing azure eye. He had lightly-tanned skin and a thin yet stalwart frame draped by fine cobalt and navy blue robes.

His hands were holding countless papers and a book or two, so she was offered no help getting up. Upon rising, she found he was taller than her by a…half-foot? She scowled. Why was everyone so tall? She despised feeling small.

When he bent over, she saw the scattered papers and books. Without any real care or guilt at the fact she was the reason for the mess, she blankly stood still as he began to grab the papers together. After a while of doing nothing, she decided to mimic his movements. She eyed the pages. There were strange words and symbols that resembled what her father had always studied since her eyes first opened.

"I'll take those," the guy said, snatching the pages she had away from her.

She didn't hold any hostility or fright at his brash movement; she only granted the blank stare she gave everyone else. He awaited the typical response he received from others when first introduced to his disposition: a "hmph!" or some grumbled remark and then a haughty departure. When she just resumed picking up a book or two, he was vaguely surprised.

"And those," he said, taking a book she started flipping through away.

She blinked a couple times at the speedy motion. After seeing nothing else around herself to grab, she straightened out her legs.

With the mess cleaned up with little thanks to her, the guy was able to get a better look at her. He instantly recognized the garb she had on.

"Feh. One of my father's new whores?" he said to her with a sneer.

She stared at him as usual. He narrowed his eyes at her lack of response. Was she dumb? Did she know what "whore" meant? Did she even know what he meant?

"My father. Braig," he enunciated, right away growing irritated by her slow processing methods.

Her eyes widened in realization. She knew what "father" meant, and she knew who "Braig" was. That was enough to put two and two together. Or…one and one together.

"Yeaah, I see you understand that," the guy muttered to himself, straightening out his posture. She did the same, still gazing at him in wonder. His eyes twitched in further agitation. This girl was definitely odd. He wasn't accustomed to such mannerisms. Right when he was to leave, he heard a sound behind him.

"Did you say something?" he asked, wanting to be done with this aggravating woman.

"Father. Ansem. My father," she spoke with slight enthusiasm, a light smile playing on her lips.

He was a little taken aback by her expression and her words. Why was she so…jovial at that? Ansem? Where had he heard that name before…?

"My father, Ansem. Your father, Braig. Our fathers," she stated with a giggle.

"Yeaah, I'm glad you've realized that," he mumbled, turning away. He had to get away; this girl was quickly sapping his IQ rapidly.

There was a tug on his sleeve, one that almost made him drop some papers again. He turned around to the source of the tug. Of course, it was the girl.

"What now? I know your dad's name, and you know mine. That's nice. Now let me go," he ordered, hoping the venom in his voice would be enough to get her to go away.

"Rita. And…you are?" she asked, doing her best to mimic the words her father had spoken to those in such occasions as this. At least, she hoped she was using the right words. If she wasn't, her father would most likely be ashamed.

"Ienzo. Now let me go," he ordered. She complied this time, and he walked away.

"…I…en…zo…" Rita whispered, holding her hands to her mouth as though in a prayer.

With that, she continued her chase throughout the castle, a childish grin faint on her thin lips.

| XD | D8 | 8D | DX |

Yaaay Ienzo appears! And disappears! Fwah! (See? I FORETOLD THIS!) So…yeah, this is where things shall start to happen. Oh, noes! I had to laugh during Ansem and Braig's bonding moment. Now it's getting sort of hard to write for Ansem. If you haven't exactly picked up on what's up with Rita…no, she's not retarded. She's not "Rita the retard", so get that out of your cruel little minds already. That one part at the end of Ansem's thought trail was a little hard to phrase, since…y'know, I have to keep him a discriminating douche while still a "loving father", so nyeh. Next chapter shall be something…fun. :3 Adios for now!