Chapter 23: Powder Keg of the West

by SodiumChloride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.

A/N: I'll be dropping two chapters for the fourth. Make sure to look out for that. If y'all found this chapter to be enjoyable, feel free to leave a review. If you didn't like it...don't hesitate to flame me. Not really though. Please don't flame me.

N: Mark and friends are now under the unwilling servitude of the Carazanite monarch. Meanwhile...hidden forces prepare for a plot against the emperor's life.

?...

Aquila's muscles ached as she carried large clay bricks down the stairs. Her steps were silent against the stone steps, and she took great effort to keep it that way. It would be detrimental to her plans if anyone were to suspect she was down here.

She was in one of the countless underground tunnels that occupied the underside of the castle. With nothing but a torch for light, only the faint silhouette of the earthly walls was visible. Countless doors and destinationless passageways littered the sides of the tunnels. If one was not careful, getting yourself lost would be an easy task.

But that was no issue to Aquila. She had meticulously memorized the entire layout of the underground dungeon. Although calling the location a dungeon might be considered a stretch (the area doubled as the Emperor's private wine cellar) it still suited Aquila's plans.

She walked deeper into the labyrinth. Eventually, she found the room she was looking for. It had a front door with old engravings about heroes of old. Champions who have since been lost to history.

A little lightheaded, she opened the door and entered. The damp air around her immediately dried up as she did so, and her foot landed on an old chisel.

Gah!

She hadn't put much weight on her foot, but it was all that it needed. Her foot bled as the metal broke through her flesh. The sticky crimson stained the earthen floor.

She jumped in pain and dropped her bricks. The landed in the ground around her and didn't make a sound. The thin air this deep into the earth made it difficult for Aquila to hear her own profanities.

After nursing her wound with some makeshift bandages, she began on her task. The area around was neat and orderly, although noticeable patches of dust had begun to accumulate on the furniture and flooring. This room used to be an old safe room used by the first kings of Missur, and she fully intended to restore it to some of its former glory. She had already done most of the work a while back, so all she had to do now was do some brooming and other minor spot checks.

The job was no big deal. She could do it in half an hour. That time was meaningless compared to the hours she's been spending in the past.

Although at first glance, it would appear that the young lady was doing this off the goodness of her heart. Or maybe she was accomplishing some unknown duty. But that assessment could be farther from the truth.

Tucked away in an isolated corner of the room, away from the focal point provided by the comfortable couch and table, was a clue to Aquila's true intentions. One much more malicious.

There laid a cache of bricks and mortar, along with a recently sharpened mace. At first glance, one could tell it was enough to block the doorway.

Aquila smiled as she continued her labor. Not for the gratitude of her work, or even that the pain in her foot was beginning to subside.

Tomorrow was the day everything was going to change. The day her target would be most vulnerable. It would be a valuable opportunity.

An opportunity for revenge.

Throne Room...

My eyes widened as I observed the features of our new visitors. One was definitely human (albeit a cold one) and the other was anything but. Coupling his physical appearance with his monotone voice, I was certain he was a morph. The icing on the cake would be if...

The Emperor said, "Ah! My friends from the Black Fang. Pleased to see you have joined us."

Shit.

I gave a worried look to my allies. Although it was virtually impossible to read my facial expression through my mask, Lumina was able to read my discomfort. Sweat droplets began to form around my body, and it made my cloak look like it had taken on a weird form of the plague. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my breathing steady, as I feared that the morph would be able to read my nonverbals like a book.

My emotions spread to the rest of the group like it was quickly going out of style. Lumina's knuckles turned white as she held onto a hidden dagger. Simon's gray hair almost went white as he observed the duo. Raven, a being usually calm under duress, had a stray twitch of the brow.

Here is when I learned how my friends reacted under stress. Lumina went defensive, choosing to stay close to her perceived kin. Simon was also defensive but took an aggressive stance, choosing to not give up an inch. I was a wild card; playing the situation by ear. As for Raven.

He was always on the offensive.

He marched up towards the throne, with his finger pointing at the monarch.

He said, "What is the meaning of this?! Why did you bring in these criminals?"

It appeared I wasn't the only one aware of the Black Fang's infamous reputation.

Simon added, "If you're suggesting that we work with these dark folk, then I'll have to decline. My knight's honor prohibits me."

A: It appears we're not the only ones who have something against the Fang.

M: Funny, I was under the assumption you liked them.

A: I like their methods, but returning to them would put me at a disadvantage. They'd fuse our personalities together and I'd lose control again. That is not something I want to repeat.

M: Interesting.

A: Watch your words tactician. Your mask protects your identity, but your actions can make any superficial effort null and void. Don't do anything that will give you away.

M: I'll give it my best shot.

The Emperor was annoyed. He had obviously not planned for these events to go in this manner.

He said, "I can reassure you that these men mean well. They've agreed to help me avoid this civil war. Surely you people would be agreeable to preventing many unnecessary deaths?"

I replied, "Well y'a-"

M: Oh crap!

A: Kill your accent you idiot! Nobody on this planet speaks like that!

Off the corner of my eye, I saw Ephidel crack a small smile. He was glaring directly at me, and I knew I had just made a misstep.

He said, "What's wrong tactician? Do you have a stutter...or perhaps you stopped yourself? If the latter is the case...then that would suggest your trying to hide something from the most powerful person in the land."

I began to jumble my words around. It was clear I had overestimated my ability to perform under scrutiny.

I replied, "W-Well I-I..."

Luckily, this had a pleasant unintended effect.

The Emperor waved his hand dismissively.

He said, "I don't mind the tactician's stuttering problem. What is valuable to me is his ability to lead an army. Tell me...are you familiar with urban warfare?"

M: But I don't have a stuttering problem...

A: Go with it. If I learned one thing from my time in Fibernia, it's that one man's mistake is another's lifeline. Take advantage of it, and exploit it. That's the art of realpolitik.

M: You give surprisingly good advice.

A: I'm doing this because right now our interests align. I will not hesitate to destroy you when I get a chance.

M: Right...

I replied, "The largest population center I've fought in was a village...wait we haven't agreed to anything! I demand you let us go and return to our home countries!"

Something may have possessed me at that moment. It may have been a mixture of Azazel's advice and my friend's presence, but I felt moved enough to join Raven near the front. Thinking about it some more, it may have been Azazel discreetly implanting a false sense of confidence in my brain. Regardless of the cause, my gesture caused the monarch to lean back on his chair.

He replied, "Even after my attendants nursed you back to health...you still insist on being so brazen."

I shot back, "Some decent healthcare does not equal assistance in a war! Saving my life affects one life, while a war affects everyone in the city! Surely you can do some basic mathematics your highness."

I was at the top of my game. It felt like nothing could shoot me down right now. I wasn't going to let some 8th-century blue blood take advantage of me!

"Mark watch out!"

Suddenly, Jaffar dashed his way towards me. I turned just in time to parry a blow aimed at my neck. My dagger, which was made of Lycian low-alloy steel, easily weathered the attack.

My arm, however, could not say the same. It took the full force of the fit man and popped out of its socket. The amount of force was surreal and was almost inhuman. Almost.

Agh! A critical blow! I'm not sure what type of die he's playing with, but he needs to be dealt with immediately!

Shifting my blade to my non-dominant hand, I faced him again. Behind him, Lumina had her bow aimed for the man's head. Simon and Raven were similarly at the ready.

The already thick tension in the air just got thicker. The conflict was imminent, and although we outnumbered the fangsmen 4 to 2, I had a feeling these men were way stronger than we put together. I feared not even Azazel's fury would be able to counter them.

But right when we were about to begin pitched combat, a voice of reason broke through the silence.

The Emperor exclaimed, "Stop! I will not allow bloodshed in my throne room! Everyone put down their weapons!"

There's no way they'll listen to him right? We're right in the palm of their hand. They could stain this floor red if they wanted to.

Immediately, Jaffar dropped his dagger onto the ground. Likewise, Ephidel's thunder tome landed on the floor.

A: Guess they would.

At first, we hesitated. But, not wanting to push the envelope any further, I dropped my red-hilted dagger. Noticing my act, the others followed suit.

We had avoided a direct confrontation, for now.

The Emperor placed his palm onto his forehead. His annoyance has morphed into a crude distaste for us.

He said, "Okay, I see you're a direct man tactician. Let me say this in a language that you will understand. You've never had a choice in this matter. Refuse to help me, and I'll arrange for you to rot in the salt mines for eternity. Take it or leave it, I can probably secure my power with the Fang's help alone. Choose your answer wisely."

That development...took me completely off guard. I didn't think the monarch would resort such methods to secure my help, but I realize now that we're both playing different games of power. We both deal with issues in leadership, however, his problems are amplified hundredfold due to the sheer population. It was clear he was desperate to overcome an obstacle to his power, even morally dubious ones.

We felt like we were backed into a corner. We had three options. Go back to the mines, submit and help him, or attempt to fight our way out of this forsaken city. The first option was never on the table, and the third was impractical due to the severity of Oltorf pass along with the countless soldiers inhabiting the city. We had no choice.

I had to make a deal with a second devil. One that was completely in the flesh.

I bowed my head down but didn't let my lower body touch the floor. Reading the emotions of my friends, it was clear what their decision was. All I had to do was put it into words.

I said, "I will not bow down to you...but I will serve you with the best of my ability. Your enemies are my enemies. My lance is your lance. I place myself under a contract to help you with this task until it is fulfilled. So help me God."

I held back tears as I swore my oath to him. I had already sworn fealty to a certain woman in Caelin, and her memory was entrenched in my mind as I did so. Simon placed his hand on my shoulder as he followed suit. Lumina did so as well, although Raven preferred to be separated from the group.

The Emperor smiled as he observed giving our oaths. Everything was going according to plan.

He ordered everybody to leave his presence and prepare for his birthday ball tomorrow. They would discuss strategy the morning after, with the ball acting as a brief relief prior to the main fighting. He would enjoy himself tomorrow, now that he was comfortable that he had secured the most battle-proven tactician in all of Elibe.

He would rest easy tonight. Now, his victory was all but assured.

The Next Day...

Carvel's white robe shone brilliantly under the hot sun. It had a stripe of purple wrapped around his right arm, along with unrivaled comfort. With any ordinary man, this would have been quite the outfit.

However, all it did was make Carvel feel uncomfortable. It was an heirloom from his father, a symbol of his rank among the citizens. The outfit made him feel unapproachable by any commoner, especially his wife. He felt like if she were to ever catch a glimpse of him wearing this than she might feel compelled to leave him on the spot. That was something to be avoided at all costs.

As much as he hated wearing this thing, it was the appropriate outfit for what he was attending today. The Emperor's birthday ball. It was a rare day of festivities where all the nobles let loose, and alcohol flowed freely. The debauchery that was going to happen today made him feel sick to the stomach. Today was the only day that the Emperor (surrounded by his closest confidants of course) will allow himself to get drunk among his peers. It wasn't a sight that he was going to look forward to seeing, and he planned to take his leave at the first socially-acceptable opportunity.

But something didn't sit right with him

The Emperor was blissfully unaware of all the revolutionaries that were to be in attendance. Although his own monarchists and the outsider fascists will make up about 60% of his attendants, a sizeable portion will be made up of socialists, syndicalists, and anarchists. If someone truly desired to, one could strike at the Emperor here. Of course, they'd have to get through the armed security detail first, but the possibility was still in the air.

Carvel had to admit, the monarch was a tyrant that would likely never allow democracy in his country. But his survival is vital if a bloodless power transition were to occur. If the Emperor was to be slain since he has no direct descendants the country would likely devolve into civil war. In that scenario, the monarchist faction would be split in what noble to appoint as the new emperor, the fascists would be as well, and the others would simply rebel due to the emperor's absence. The country would become hopelessly fractured, and the following civil war devastating. At that point, the democracists would be the largest undivided faction, and it would be a fight they could surely win. But did the ends justify the means?

Carvel didn't think so. That scenario had to be avoided at all costs. He valued the lives of the civilians above all else, and if he could take power without shedding any blood then he would. There were some people in his faction that didn't feel that way, but they were a minority.

He entered through the castle's front gate. Although he wanted to enter as soon as possible, that simply was not the case. All around, lower-ranking officers recognized him and saluted en-masse, even though the lieutenant colonel wasn't wearing a military uniform. He was too embarrassed to scold them, although he was certain he would do so at the next working day.

After about a half hour of formalities, he finally made his way to the ballroom. About 50 nobles and military officials were in attendance at a 5 o'clock Saturday evening. Most were in their early twenties to early thirties. Some had a preference for beer, others preferred fine wine. But all were ready to begin the festivities.

Carvel was everything from an acquaintance to a bitter enemy to these people. The fascists hated him, the socialists were indifferent, monarchists thought he was one of them, and the anarchists would probably shoot him on the spot. Truly a colorful variety of emotions inhabited this room.

It was a few minutes until the Emperor addressed his guests, and so he took a seat by a depressed looking group of unfamiliar faces. They looked like they wouldn't pester him with questions, so it was the perfect fit.

He greeted everybody by shaking their hands. One was a purple robed, black-haired man with a mask. He spoke with a very quantitative style, one he mostly associated with the engineers that designed Carazan's roads. He introduced himself as Mark.

There was also a red-haired mercenary that was a silent type. He simply shook his hand and said nothing. Carvel considered silence a virtue, but even this may be a bit too much. His name was Raven.

To his right, there was a gray-haired knightly character. Out of everyone there, he seemed the only one trying to make light of a bad situation. Carvel noted him for being a trustworthy character. His name was Simon.

Finally, to his surprise, sitting next to the black-haired man was a woman. She had white hair that was neatly wrapped up into a ponytail, with an archer's outfit. Although it isn't common for women to attend these parties, it also wasn't unheard of. He noted her strong personality, along with her name, Lumina.

After the initial greetings, the table fell into a pleasant conversation. Carvel did end up receiving some questions, but luckily they weren't anything too impossible. He could even consider them pleasant.

He discovered that the group was none other than a group of adventurers obtained by the Emperor. Mark is a world-renowned tactician whose deeds are known far and wide. Raven and Simon are professional mercenaries, while Lumina is a supposed sibling of Mark's. That last bit of information confused him, as the two looked nothing alike. He just dismissed it to wacky genetics.

The tactician's arm appeared to be out of place. Upon closer inspection, he realized it had popped out of its socket.

He must be under a lot of pain right now. I can probably fix that for him.

He asked, "Hey Mark, did you pop your arm out of its socket? I can put it back if you'd like."

Mark clapped his hands together, forming a praying gesture. He gave a teary-eyed smile.

He replied, "Please...it hurts so much."

Mark's friends watched suspiciously as he tended to his injury. Although Raven looked aloof and Simon only had a tiny bit of concern, he felt like Lumina would pounce on him if she sensed even a hint of malicious intent.

POP!

Success. Carvel has done this many times before and had gotten pretty proficient at it. The tactician's face beamed as he regained control of his limb.

He said, "Thank you! You're a lifesaver!"

He replied, "Anytime friend."

Soon after, a familiar blue-haired maid arrived to give the table some drinks. They gave each other looks of acknowledgment as she left. He ordered some water, and to his mild surprise, so did the rest of the table.

He asked Simon, "Why choose water? Surely a big man like you can handle your own alcohol?"

Simon downed half of the glass in one gulp.

He replied, "My culture is observing an important holiday today. We mustn't consume any recreational beverages until the dawn of tomorrow. As for my friends...they have their own reasons."

Carvel's gaze shifted to the other three. No point asking Raven; he was blissfully looking off into space. That only left the other two.

He asked, "Er...Mark and Lumina how about yourselves? Surely you two must have some cultural reasons as well?"

Mark replied, "For the same reason as you Carvel. Surely we must be feeling the same thing...right?"

Carvel's eyes widened. He had not expected that assessment from the tactician.

He said, "What do you mean?"

Mark looked out into the crowd of statesmen that were gleefully chatting with their peers. They were all oblivious to the sinister undertones of this party.

Mark replied, "Don't you find it a bit off-putting that today the Emperor is putting himself in a vulnerable position around a bunch of suspected revolutionaries? They may make up a minority, but this seems like a recipe for disaster. You felt it as well right? That's why you chose to sit with a bunch of strangers rather than your own countrymen. Assuming everyone is associating with people in their own factions, that would suggest your part of a faction that hasn't infiltrated the upper echelons yet. A faction like the socialists or anarchists...no. The democracists would be more likely."

Carvel nearly spat out the water he was drinking.

Drat! How did he make that conclusion with those two minor details! I'm done for!

No...he still doesn't have any concrete evidence. I can save myself from this.

It was like the two were playing a game of poker. One must not reveal their hand in order to win. Carvel hasn't folded yet.

Carvel replied, "I'd never associate with those criminals."

The two players read the other's movements. The battle could go either way.

Mark replied, "Then why did you get water? You know that if something happens then it would be easier to get away sober."

Carvel's defenses were crumbling. Swift action was needed.

He said, "I would never run away from my liege. My family has been giving him fealty for centuries now."

Ignoring his earlier comment, Mark delivered the final blow.

Mark said, "You gave that maid a weird look earlier. Is she your agent? Perhaps you're the leader of the democracist...or at least a higher up."

This time Carvel did spit his beverage out onto the had just played his royal flush, and Carvel was defenseless.

All there was to do was concede defeat.

Sweat began dropping down Carvel's forehead. The sleeping hornet's nest was at the cusp of being awoken.

He lowered his voice to make sure no one could eavesdrop.

He said, "So what if I am? What are you going to do...turn me in? They'll kill me...but someone else will just take my place. You can kill a person...but you can't kill an idea."

Mark had a devilish smile on his face. The expression terrified him.

He said, "You see...you and I both know that a civil war will rock this country very soon. I don't know when, but I don't want to be here when it happens. Arrange for a vessel to smuggle us out of the country, and your secret is safe with me. I do not wish to be the Emperor's dog any longer."

The tactician's offer was captivating. Getting the group out of the country would rob the Emperor of a cunning mind, and would even out the scales of war. Carvel has everything to gain from this arrangement.

But doing so would be difficult. He'd have to somehow get around the group's security detail...which might be possible if he were to abuse his powers as a senior officer. After ridding himself of the soldiers, he could have an agent escort them to a boat bound for a foreign port. This plan was very much in the realm of possibility.

He said, "I accept your offer. Just all-"

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream erupted through the ballroom.

"BOMB! THERE'S A BOMB!"

Time slowed down. He eyed a mysterious figure disappear out through a window.

Carvel exclaimed, "Everybody get down!"

Raven flipped the table over just as Simon tackled Lumina and Mark to the ground. Carvel didn't have a second to spare when he took shelter behind the table.

A massive explosion ruptured from an unknown location. The sheer heat generated from the fireball was able to melt silver. The large windows that adorned the walls were blown out by debris.

Carvel was lifted into the air and landed flat on his back. Unable to breathe, thick smoke began to fill the ballroom.

Around him, painful screams littered his eardrums. The unforgettable stench of burning flesh nearly caused him to hurl. He was at the brink of losing consciousness.

A friendly hand lifted him up into the air. Placing his bloodied body on its back, it began walking away from the scene.

At the corner of his eye, he spotted Raven dragging the unconscious bodies of Lumina and Mark. He soon realized who had picked him up, the knight Simon.

Simon said quietly, "It's okay Carvel. We'll get out of here just fine."

With those words of comfort, he drifted into black nothingness. He wondered what became of his agent, but all he could do was pray for her safety...

Elred woke up from his brief bout of unconsciousness. Unable to comprehend what was going around him, he immediately reached out for his chief retainer. He had been sitting right next to him...before the blast.

Elred gasped. He realized now that the retainer has shielded him from the blast with his body. There was nothing of him left, all that remained where some stray strands of cloth from his vaporized body.

Elred couldn't believe what he was seeing. Mounds of dead laid before him, some of whom were just entertaining him earlier. A pitch black eyeball was looking directly at him as if judging his very soul.

It took another moment for him to realize that he was in pain. The alcohol had numbed some of it, but now he was aware of its presence. The burns weren't serious, but they still needed to be tended to. He realized he needed to get help.

He needed to get out of here.

Heaving his body up, he fell onto the ground. The mixture of his injuries and the booze had made him unable to walk. If he was to get out of here...he would require assistance.

"Milord. Do you allow me to help you?"

He turned his head and saw who the voice came from. It was a blue-haired maid, one of the many staff members that helped orchestrate this ball.

He replied, "Please..."

Elred was surprised by the petite woman's strength. She effortlessly lifted him up and placed his arm around her shoulder. Together, they hobbled their way out of the ballroom.

The maid said, "Your highness, the castle is under attack. Please allow me to transport you to the safe room."

Elred drunkingly agreed. Had he been sober, he might have realized that the maid was lying. The terrorist attack was isolated at the ballroom.

Elred asked, "What's your name miss?"

The maid's smiled. This was the first time the Emperor had asked for her name.

It would be the last name he would ever hear.

She replied, "Aquila..."

Aquila made her way down to the castle's dungeon, and fortunately, no one had seen her leave with the Emperor. With nothing but torchlight, she weaved through the dungeon's winding corridors. It was hard to breathe, more so for the monarch who was hobbling in her shoulder. Regardless, she pressed on. She had carried heavier objects down here at her own power, and she would be damned if she were to stop now.

The earlier explosion had almost put a damper on her plans. Somebody had tried to assassinate the Emperor on their own accord...it was probably one of the anarchists in attendance. No other faction had been so adamant about removing the Emperor but them, it was the only conclusion Aquila could draw. Fortunately for her, not only had been left unscathed by the would-be-assassin's shoddy explosive, but it had also wiped out the entirety of the Emperor's security detail. She had intended to seduce the monarch initially then lead the drunk man down here, but the present opportunity was just too good to pass up. One could call it fate.

The blue-haired maid had to hold back the temptation to giggle. They were almost there now, and she couldn't raise any red flags now. The Emperor may not be a military man, but even he could easily overpower a small woman like her. It would be at the comfort of the "safe room" where she would have complete control. Control over the man that had taken so much from her.

The Emperor groaned as he groggily slid through the "safe room" door. He was so delirious from the booze and lack of air that he didn't notice that he was now several hundreds of meters below ground. All his inept mind could do was process the sofa that had appeared in front of him, and slithered onto its leather. Oblivious to his impending doom, he fell fast asleep.

Aquila started laughing. Then again. And again. And again. The intensity of her enjoyment intensified with each passing second, although it was barely audible due to the lack of air it could pass through. With a renewed confidence, she went over to her special corner.

The materials were still there. Her mace, the chisel, the mortar, and the bricks. Everything she needed was still here.

After a few minutes of hard labor, she successfully hauled everything to the front door. Taking the mace, she destroyed the ancient door with a single swing.

WHACK!

Wood fragments littered the floor. Shrapnel flew everywhere, some of which got onto Aquila's uniform. The maid watched with distaste as one of the pieces flew directly for the Emperor's head.

The force was enough for him to awaken from his slumber. At first, he was hit with an immense sense of brain fog, but his eyes widened as he realized where he was.

His gaze shifted towards the maid holding a large mace. Below her feet was enough of bricks to build a wall.

A wall that could trap him in.

His expression became one of absolute anger.

He said, "Aquila! What is the meaning of this!"

Without saying a word, she walked over the shattered door and closer to him. With no sense of hesitation, she swung her weapon at her liege, destroying his ribcage.

He screamed, "Agh!"

He fell onto the floor clutching his wound. Blood fell from his mouth, and he began to choke on his own fluids.

He pleaded, "W-Why?"

Looking up at his assassin again her expression morphed from one of distaste to one of absolute malice. Her bangs were clear from her eyes, revealing two undiluted pupils. Below them were two black spots of dust, likely from the surrounding air. Her right eye twitched as her sanity began to dissipate like the morning dew. Her usual Cinnabon roll of a face had transformed into one resembling a devil.

She said, "August 24th, 986. That was the day you sent your troops to the Kalma block in South Carazan. Are you aware of what happened there?"

Elred's head went blank. That was the first year of his reign, along with being a troubling time. It was a year of great unrest, a time where everyone wanted to test the resolve of the new monarch. He responded to the defiance violently, and put down all of the rebellions. There were so many, he had forgotten how many time he had to send the military out on raiding parties.

He replied, "I'm sorry...I do-"

He was rewarded with a swift kick to the groin. Wincing in pain, more blood expelled from his mouth.

Aquila said, "Then I'll remind you. On that day you sent a battalion full of your best soldier into that heavily populated area. It was rumored that rebellious cells inhabited the area, so your troops went door to door arresting suspected rebels. But the community didn't take a liking to that. Fighting soon broke out, and one of your troops knocked over a lantern full of active fuel. The following inferno killed many people, and it took months for the embers to be put out."

Elred replied, "So what? Rebels don't deserve a part of this country."

Aquila shot back, "You swine! My parents had nothing to do with the rebellion! Neither did my twin sister...but the fire killed them nethertheless. We begged for help for days...but it never came. My family died when they choked under the thick smoke...and I would have died to if it were not for the actions of a certain man. I owe that man my life...but you owe me something, Emperor."

Elred said, "The simple fact you were under my employ should've been enough f-"

Aquila said, "NO! It's royalty like you that are the problem with this country. Every day you live in luxury while the rest of us bask under the shadow of our false gods. But no more! You represent the last of your line, and today I will receive my revenge. You will die the same way my family did, gasping for air, and waiting for help that will never come! Your death will be long and painful...as it should be. If you truly are a god...then save yourself!"

Aquila then ran up to the tyrant and delivered a swift kick to his head. Elred's head was thrown against the edge of his sofa, and he went out cold.

At this moment Aquila could hear the echoes of her ancestors calling out to her. She pushed that thought far into the basement of her mind. It was simply hallucinations, ones that come due to the prolonged lack of oxygen.

She didn't have much time. She had to get to work now if she didn't want to share a grave with the Emperor. Thus, she got her tools and began placing the blocks flush with the former door frame. Her father was a mason, and he made a great effort to make sure his trade knowledge was passed down to daddy's little girl...

I said, "Man...it wasn't even a day ago when I went out cold...this sucks."

Lumina shook her head. Her arm was wrapped in a body cast.

She said, "Well at least last time you just had mana deprivation. That explosion both gave us concussions."

I groaned and rubbed the backside of my head. There was a bandage wrapped around my forehead.

I said, "What is this...like the eighth concussion I've had in the last year? Those tonics help my brain heal, but I can't help but think I'm gradually losing memories from my old life in the process. This life just isn't for me Lumina."

Lumina and I were at a makeshift hospital ward setup at the castle's cafeteria. Dozens or so wounded was laying in cots all around us, but luckily most have stabilized conditions. Although some were still on the cusp of death, the blast had killed about 15 and injured another 20. It was a depressing situation, but we owed the quick wits of Simon and Raven for our lives.

A familiar blue-haired maid made her way to our beds. She changed our bandages and questioned us about how we were feeling. She appeared to be in a good mood herself, and she had a playful whistle as she tended to her duties. It was a bit unusual, considering that the Emperor had been missing for several hours. But I paid it no mind. I figured that this may be her way of dealing with the trauma.

I said, "I really appreciate your help m'am. Do I have the pleasure of knowing your name?"

She replied, "Oh? My name is Aquila, daughter of Henry the Mason. Pleased to meet you...er…"

Lumina said, "That would be Mark. My name is Lumina."

Aquila raised her brow as if she was thinking about something. Whatever hidden thought she had come to her quickly.

She came up close to me and placed her hand over my ear.

She whispered, "I'm a member of the Democracist faction. Carvel requests your presence at his estate. It's regarding a promise he made to you."

I said, "Understood...but wait. Since the Emperor is gone can't we just leave on our own accord now?"

Aquila shook her head, "I'm afraid not. The fascists have already made moves to take over the port. They plan on taking over the government and putting the city under martial law. They're infinitely more brutal than the Emperor ever was. I'm sorry, but if you're going to return home, then we may have to ask for some of your help."

Aquila then left us and went to attend to more patients. Despite the fact she may be out of a job soon, she still felt compelled to help the wounded. That was a virtue I greatly admired in her.

She disappeared into the sea of humanity...leaving me lost to my thoughts

I looked like I was going to have to play by this city's games for just a little bit longer.