Matilda de Saxe-Gotha was, in a word, concerned. She was troubled, even. Years of hard work might all be rendered pointless by a single and rather sudden event. From her vantage point in the tower of Headmaster Osmond she could glance over at the ruined plain where, just the day before, Guiche de Gramont's dwarven familiar had done battle with a Square-class Earth Mage.

General Gramont had only won the bout, it seemed, due to his possession of Lightning magic. A frightfully difficult spell to cast at the best of times and one considered nigh impossible for those with an Earth affinity. She'd certainly never tried it. Which meant that her carefully crafted plan might all be for naught.

She'd spent weeks, months even, working on the bald idiot teacher. Leveraging every ounce of misplaced affection he'd developed into information. As Osmond's secretary she'd had access to patrol schedules, cleaning schedules, and more besides. The plan had been, frankly, perfect. All she had to do was wait until the day of the Founder's Birthday. Then, during the celebration, she could take advantage of the situation to breach the vault and steal the prize.

That would fail. It would undoubtedly fail. There was no chance for success any more. That familiar wouldn't go to the party. If he was wandering the grounds and saw her siege golem then he'd simply destroy it. She couldn't stand up to that strength directly.

So she had to find a more cunning solution.

In many ways, she wished to thank the dwarf for his arrival. The desperation he'd infused into her had lead to her coming up with a plan that could get her to lay hands on the prize far sooner than she'd been intending to. Which was, with the increased pressure being laid on her, a very good thing.

While it was very true that the vault was impenetrable from the outside, save through the application of immense physical force, that wouldn't hold true if those who held the key simply opened it for you. In the end, the best way to get into a building was simply to knock. So she did just that; knocking on the door to the vault in the form of the threatening letter sent to the crown.

Of course, the one sent to investigate was a frustrating sort of man. Dealing with Osmond and that little bastard of a familiar that he had was a big enough problem. The Count de Mott was more subtle about it, lacking the excuse of senility, but he was certainly giving her excited looks from time to time that made her skin crawl.

Beyond that, she felt like they were being observed during the tour. It was a familiar sensation for her; given her career she'd gotten quite skilled at acting normal while under severe scrutiny. Thus, she was able to determine that someone was observing her intensely; or, if not her, at least their group. However, she couldn't tell who. It was quite frustrating.

"...-ueville?" She started suddenly at catching the end of her assumed name and straightened up immediately; her clipboard was clutched tightly to her chest. What had the old bastard asked for? Ah, ah, ah… aha! She grabbed a piece of paper and offered it immediately. Osmond nodded to her, and turned back to the Count.

"Here you are, Count; the full details of the vault's contents. You may feel free to check this accounting against the items within at your leisure; the vault itself is reasonably well organized, so it should be easy to confirm nothing is missing." The Count nodded to himself as they walked, examining the papers on his way.

"Which item is he after, would you say?" This time it was a question for the Headmaster. The old man looked thoughtful, considering the situation in full as the Count continued. "The majority of items contained are either dangerous or of academic interest only… any truly valuable items are kept in the Royal Vaults instead." That was certainly true; and she would have much preferred to steal from those. But she had her orders… and no choice but to follow them.

"Well… there is, of course, that item." Osmond indicated something on the current page, to which the Count inclined his head. "However, if so then I doubt they know much about it. For all the power it may possess, there's no known way to use it. Every secret of that item passed on with its owner." Yes… that was certainly true, as well. Out of all the items in the vault that was the one that ought to be desired by Fouquet the least.

So why, then, was that the one she had to steal above all else? Matilda didn't know the answer to that. She didn't care to speculate, either. Her job was to acquire it and deliver it. Something that would be easily possible. Her wand was strapped to her forearm and, as she adjusted her clipboard, she carefully laid her fingers upon it. They were nearly at the door.

"Well said, Headmaster. Even so, we mustn't let any of these items fall into the wrong hands. Open the door, if you would be so kind." This was it. Her greatest barrier, about to be opened. None knew the method for opening this door save the Headmaster. She often wondered what would happen if he died. Still, her careful searching had uncovered nothing that gave her any clues to the functon of the entrance.

Old Osmond laid his stave against the doorway. She'd tried many times to examine the mechanism and open it, to no avail. The already-enchanted stones had refused to move for her. They moved for him, however. Rock slid over rock inside the vast, nigh-indestructible doorway and, shortly, it opened.

"Shall w-" Matilda struck the and there. She released the command spell from her wand into the stones around them. A full week of painstaking preparations bore fruit immediately in the form of bricks raining from the ceiling. Osmond lifted his stave to with startling speed to protect them all from the falling stones… and then was yanked through the floor. The animated hallway consumed him up to his neck, rapidly smacking the staff from his hands. All of them in the inspection party were given the same treatment; even the one they knew as the Secretary Longueville. Unlike them, however, she was in possession of her wand and had space to move her arms in the hollow she'd been tucked into. As she outwardly opened her mouth to cry for help, only to be gagged by stone like all the rest, underneath she began to direct her golems.

The wall behind them transformed itself into dozens of the tiny creatures. Dot-magic scale creatures. Simple, pathetic, and capable of only very basic commands. In this case their task was simple; enter the vault, seize the first thing you find, and then flee. As the teachers could only watch in horror the constructs charged in and grasped items by the dozen. They stuffed them into themselves, and then fled.

Under her gag, Matilda de Saxe-Gotha grinned as her plan came to fruition.

Outside the walls of the main Academy building, Kenneth was painstakingly putting together the links of Guiche's chain shirt. A week of work and he was nearly done. The other little surprise he'd been putting together for his student and employer was nearly finished as well. He'd been quite surprised by the original workmanship but, in the end, he felt like he'd created a superior piece.

Quite suddenly his axe was in hand. He turned and leapt; striking down and cleaving the target in half with a single stroke. His enemy, as it turned out, was a simple stone golem. It seemed he'd also destroyed some sort of book that was inside it? He frowned, looking around.

Through the ground he'd simply felt something strange approaching at high speed. He'd determined it was animated as opposed to alive, and so he'd struck it down. Now that he looked, though, there were more of them. Dozens. They were pouring out of the central building and rushing the walls; partially fusing with the outsides as they climbed up. Simply escaping, then?

… ah. Kenneth reversed his axe and rushed the nearest one, tearing it down in an instant. From there he continued to assault them as fast as he could. Each charge and strike brought down one of the fleeing constructs but, in the end, his anti-army capability was low. Many, many more escaped for each one he brought down.

"Well, this ain't good. Ah'd best go check on th' vault they were all on about." He moved at a rolling stroll, thoroughly unconcerned about the situation. In the end he'd done what he could to prevent escape but there had been too many for him. Since there seemed to be no danger to Guiche it wasn't a big deal. Although, maybe the Academy or the Crown might be willing to pay to recover the artifacts?

Ah, but that would require him to retrieve them intact. Perhaps he'd leave that job to someone else. Once he'd reached that resolution he'd picked up the pace a bit; it wouldn't do if the criminal was still there and got away because he was slow.

There was no criminal at the other end, however. Just the Count that smelled of sinister, the ancient Headmaster who reeked of defeat and the wistful lady with the pleasant earthy scent about her. He freed the latter first, and then the one in the middle. Finally, with great regret, he broke open the floor and pulled the first one out.

"Ah… many thanks, Ser Manson." Kenneth inclined his head but didn't deign to comment. His nostrils flared slightly. Suspicious. Was it this man? He didn't seem guilty. No way to be sure. Leave it to the others, then.

"'Twere naught, Count. Ah laid inta a few lil' blighters on their way oughta th' school, bu'..." He trailed off, glancing at the retreating back of Old Osmond as he ran into the vault. What he'd suspected was confirmed when the man let out a howl of anguish; something in particular had been taken.

"This is dreadful! Simply dreadful! I am afraid, Count Mott, that we have been taken for fools; the threats were a trap to get us to open the door." Ah. The good Count went a little green at the thought. His snake-like nature quickly reasserted itself as Kenneth wandered off again, and he could hear sinister reasoning flowing out from behind him.

"I hope you don't mean to imply this is in any way my fault, Headmaster. Blame lays upon you no matter how one looks at it; the thief infiltrated yourAcademy successfully enough to lay a trap of this magnitude! In the hallway outside of the vault itself, no less. The Queen shall hear of your negligence, and we shall launch a thorough investigation." Kenneth shook his head as he left, braided beads clacking rhythmically against each other.

Humans. The one at fault here is the thief. Just catch them and everything is fine. Why waste time casting aspersions when the one to blame is getting away? He trudged off in search of Guiche. Best to get the young man's opinion on the matter, and then decide if he should intervene. The Headmaster had been very upset… so was the item taken very valuable? Mysterious.

By the end of the day, everyone at school had heard of the commotion. Some students had been caught up in the swarm of golems fleeing the vault. A few had been stopped, and a number of items recovered through chance alone. Even so; there were rumors that Old Osmond might be sacked as a result of this, or worse, and everyone knew that the theft was the work of the thief Fouquet.

For his part, Guiche was despairing. If he'd only been out in the corridors, with his mother's sword in hand, he could have certainly taken out at least two or three! Maybe even more with the new spell he was developing… even if it wasn't finished, surely there would be some effect? It was so frustrating! A perfect chance to play the hero, wasted.

Although, he had managed to improve his reputation somewhat through his public declaration that he would protect his dear, sweet Montmorency from any sinister thieves. She'd just swooned when he'd flexed his arms for her and shown off the results of his training! Such that there were, at least.

"I have acquired the list of items confirmed to have been stolen, my Lady." Guiche tried not to scowl at the common servant. Certainly he felt a level of camaraderie with his instructor, but that had been tempered by the anger that had been sown through dozens of vicious spars. Even so… he was a good servant. After all, he'd brought them all tea and cakes to go along with the information. Although, speaking of 'all' of them… Guiche sidled up beside Louise on the bench.

"Zero?" She glanced up at him, a frown of concentration on his face that said 'This had best be important, fop' as clearly as if she'd shouted at him. He shook off the similarities to her terrifying mother for the moment, and continued. "I understand it was your idea to investigate this event but…" He pointed suddenly at the unwanted invader at their meeting table. "Explain to me again why Zerbst and her friend are sitting with us!" Louise sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"In her own words, it seems that since I have no man for her to steal Kirche the Over-amorous has decided to steal me." The explanation had the tone of one who had been forced to repeat it many times. Which she had. Guiche himself had asked no less than three times in the past hour, yet still couldn't wrap his head around it.

Kirche waved off the explanation with a characteristic smirk and pounced on her quiet, blue-haired friend instead. Said friend ignored the incident entirely in favour of focusing even more intently on her book.

"Nonsense, Louise! It's just that my darling Tabitha has been so intently focused on your luscious servant that I thought I ought to help them get to know each other." The tiny girl pushed her nose ever closer to the book, turning slightly red. "Carrying home a Vallière is less of a goal, and more of a family tradition. Since you refuse to find a nice boyfriend, and appear to have no interest in that manly familiar of yours, I've chosen to lay claim to you for now!"

Louise let out a groan of frustration, and Kirche attained an air of infinite smugness. Even then… Guiche could see something there that, some weeks ago, he wouldn't have. A faint air of contentment from Kirche, and a mild happiness in Louise. He wondered what the cause of that might be.

"Alrigh', kiddies, settle down. Uncle Kenneth's here t'keep th' peace." Said dwarf laid himself down happily in a large armchair that he'd moments before been carrying over his head. Guiche pressed one palm to his face with grace and aplomb in recognition of his oh-so-graceless familiar's lack of tact. He had carried the chair here from his apartments, obviously.

"Th' red one's here 'cause she kin speak Dwarvish, and ah like t'tell jokes th' way they were intended. An' th' blue one is here 'cause they're attached at th' hip. Tha's all y'need to care about." Guiche shook his head. He rather doubted that all of his familiar's meddling was for such inane reasons.

"Ah… it seems they took the Staff of Destruction. That's not good!" Louise interrupted whatever further rambling was going to come out of Kenneth's mouth by piquing his interest with her outburst. He shifted a bit closer, leaning forward to eye the papers she'd been shuffling.

"Oh, aye? Wha's th' deal with that, then?" The Vallière rolled her eyes, and immediately launched into lecture mode. Even the blue-haired girl, ah, Tabitha? Even she looked up. Guiche had to admit once more that he'd never known just how much theory Louise had absorbed. Since they'd started hanging around each other a bit more, due to their strange familiars and training and such, he felt like his grades might have improved somewhat.

"The Staff of Destruction is a mysterious artifact recovered by our own Headmaster some many decades ago. During his travels as a young man-" Guiche tilted his head, but all of his attempts to imagine a younger Old Osmond just created the image of a young man with the exact same facial hair. Judging by Kirche's snickering she was suffering from the same problem. Louise frowned, and soldiered on. "During his travels as a young man…"

She got up and turned around, applying her knowledge of the library's contents to acquiring the book she needed. A basic bestiary, with pictures; a rare and expensive book, due to the cost of the woodcuttings. The page she laid it down on was no joke, either; a monstrous, many-headed serpent leered out at them. "He encountered this. A Hydra."

Now even Kenneth looked interested. The heads bore a great similarity to the constructs that Guiche's father had made during their fight. Now the young man wondered if his father had ever sought such a creature. "Hydras heal rapidly from almost all wounds, and are incredibly poisonous. In addition, the larger ones release a horrifically toxic miasma that can blight the land for years. As an Earth Mage, and only a Line at the time, the Headmaster lacked the capacity to kill it."

Kenneth nodded, and Guiche understood well. They'd spoken of this, briefly. What to do if you came across an enemy that couldn't be overcome by force alone. As he was now, Guiche would have been even more helpless than the Headmaster had been against a creature such as this. "Apparently, a stranger saved his life with a mysterious magical power like none the world had ever seen… none of the accounts go into any details, though. He died shortly after from wounds he'd already had, and was given a hero's funeral and a mausoleum on the Osmond family's lands." At that moment, Kenneth interjected.

"Aye, lass, tha's a fine tale. But ah detect an issue. For ye, th' wands and staves're just tools. Why the fuss with this one?" Louise grinned, excited to share her knowledge. Perhaps she'd do better as a student than a teacher, Guiche mused.

"Because it had magic of its own. Any mage who touched it could feel the power sealed inside of it, but none could make it work. Out of respect for the man who had saved his life the Headmaster kept it safe and, when he joined the Academy, petitioned for it to be stored in the Vault here." With a smug expression, Louise concluded her lecture. "This item was undoubtedly their target; in which case, the entire heist was pointless. Even if they have the staff, the greatest mages of Tristain couldn't do anything with it. In the hands of a common thief it will serve them no better than a simple walking stick."

In the woods outside of the Academy a golem carrying a wooden box trudged onward. The energies animated it had nearly died out but this, too, had been accounted for. As it made the last few steps it paused suddenly and then keeled over in place. Mere moments later a shape in a dark cloak dropped down beside it.

"Hm… perhaps she is not so worthless as I thought? The construct almost made it all the way to the rendezvous point. Well, even so; it still didn't make it." The figure pushed their hood back to reveal a pale face and even paler blue eyes that shone in the moonlight. Multicoloured tattoos of all sorts covered their face and danced down across their skin to vanish beneath their coverings. One, of a deep reddish colour, glowed suddenly and fire erupted from their fingertips to blast the wooden box apart.

Within was a staff. Pitch black, yet not made of any wood that was recognizable in this world. The tree from which it had been hewn had been one of a kind in the Old World, or so they had said. A King of Trees, and a powerful entity in its own right, that had been dethroned by the maker of this tool.

She picked it up delicately, almost reverently, and tingled with delight as one of her runes burst into light. The only one not inscribed by her own hand. For a few moments the strange magic of the land that tried to seep into the staff was confused but it shortly melded with her own ability and then it understood.

"Their so called Staff of Destruction… Azak Ruya's lost stave, The Ash in Mourning… you have come to my hand at last." Symbols inscribed along the otherwise perfectly cylindrical staff began to glow with a sickly green light. She raised it up and a wide grin came to her face. Then, quite suddenly, she flung it away.

A surge of disturbing green flames licked across the surface of the discarded staff. They ate at the ground and the plants, blighting both equally in their attempt to scour the one who had dared to try and wield the tool. The woman chuckled to herself and a deep brown rune along her left arm began to glow. Stone formed from dirt and sealed the staff away once more.

"Ah, you're a feisty one. But I shall master you nonetheless… and then…" A twisted, fanatical expression of adoration adorned her tattooed face. "My beloved master… I can give him the army he desires… and at last claim for myself that title…" She giggled maniacally for a time, and then picked up the stone containing the staff. Intricate white runes along her legs shone as she rose up through the air and vanished into the clouds above; her last words trailing into the night behind her.

"The Queen... of Banefire..."