Sorry for the delay all! Here's the chapter where we learn the bare basics of the Capitol mentors. Sorry if it feels rushed and stuff, I wasn't sure how to do a chapter for them without splitting it in two and I also kinda wanted to give everyone reasons to dislike the Flickerman twins.

I also am happy to announce that all the slots are closed! I'm just waiting on some final information for certain characters, but they've basically been landlocked with what I know about them and it's just a matter of getting the information on paper instead of in explanations via DMs and Discord. After this, I'll be starting reapings/introductions, so stay tuned for that! I'll also be adding a cast list next chapter, but for now you can find the cast on the Acta Sanctorum blog!

05 – ACOLYTES

Arsinoe Flickerman, Co-Host and Announcer of the Hunger Games

Crane may have had most people working under her as trustworthy allies, but everyone had a price.

That was, in essence, the first thing their mother taught them when they were growing up with a father constantly in the spotlight. Everyone could be bought, no matter their morals, and the right temptation could make for the perfect persuasion. Relatives of anti-Crane politicians and patriots disgusted by most changes made by the country bumpkin who should've stayed in Three—they were few and far between in the new cabinet, but they were still there and still working closely with Medea Crane. Close enough to get what she wanted.

When Arsinoe walked into her mansion, left behind by the twins' late mother and father, she barely had to wait long for Ptolemy to follow after her. Working the same job meant working the same schedule, and there was never more than an hour between them to wait for the other to scheme. She cast aside her ermine stole just in time for Ptolemy to kick off his loafers at the door and sigh. The avoxes that served them wasted no time cleaning up after them and seeing to their every need.

"The nerve of some people," Ptolemy groaned. With the Games being so controversial and one of the mentors already in the Capitol, it was hard to mess with Lola as much as they wanted to during a normal Hunger Games. Quells really were run differently, even backstage. "Wish that old fart would mind his own business."

"As soon as he's gone, things will be normal. I doubt this mess will take more than a week to finish, anyway." Arsinoe huffed and flicked her hair over her shoulder. Ptolemy strutted alongside her as she pulled her tablet from her bag. "I think what matters is how we act going forward. Crane certainly isn't giving us the leeway we deserve for the Quell and how it's run."

"Who does she think she is? Threatening us like that. Romola isn't that beloved by the Capitol."

"I know, right? They just need to see her for what she is, since they still think she's their little angel forced to go into the Hunger Games." Ugh, that year had been disgusting to watch. Their mother had broken the television when she'd seen Caesar hug and announce Lola as his daughter.

Ptolemy waved a dismissive hand. The avoxes following them all paused, bowed their heads, and backed away into their original positions by the front door and the stairs. The twins continued on through to their study in silence.

As soon as the door was shut behind them, the lock pushed into place, Ptolemy checked the soundproofing of the room and nodded in satisfaction.

"How'd you go with the staff?" he asked Arsinoe. His sister smirked and sank into her desk chair, plugging the tablet into a cable and projecting a screen against the nearby wall.

"Easy as pie," she bragged. "I just have to make sure someone gets a perfect surgery next week. How hard could that be?"

"They only asked for surgery?" Ptolemy almost cringed.

Arsinoe waved a dismissive hand at him. "Please, if you saw the webbed feet she had, you'd understand why she never takes her shoes off in front of her girlfriend. I could see the veins and everything."

It earned her a satisfied shrug. Ptolemy sat in his own chair and swivelled over to her side of the joint desk.

"Spill the tea, sis," he drawled. Arsinoe opened a folder the poor, frog-footed worker had downloaded onto the device for her. Twelve files, all labelled by District, and they were all the ones chosen by Medea to mentor the Capitol children.

"Let's start with who they picked first…" Arsinoe rearranged the files by the dates they were updated, and District Seven came up as the earliest in the list. District Five, in contrast, had been updated a mere four hours ago and was at the bottom. "Who do we have with Whammy Hammy?"

The name that came up belonged to Celestine Sutton. Only twenty years old, but already graduating from university as valedictorian and shining far above his peers. He was easy on the eyes, if a little plain, and his mane of red hair definitely needed a trim. He did have a bit of a baby face, Arsinoe noted, and it was hard to take him seriously when he looked and was among the younger in the crowd.

"Ew, a nerd," Ptolemy scoffed. "I don't want some honours student making my Hunger Games all boring with math and lessons and spreadsheets."

"Definitely. He doesn't even have any good achievements. The hell did Crane see in him?"

Ptolemy leaned over and exited Celestine's window. He moved to the next folder. "Let's hope the rest are better than that. This Quell's gonna be boring."

The next was District Three. Arsinoe hummed with interest, recalling how exciting Beq Glass had been and how much Caesar had enjoyed correspondence with the man. He was a crowd pleaser, hard to beat, and his partner in mentoring the Capitol had to shine just as bright to stand by his side.

So when Throne Squire, both twins squawked in shock and awe and practically fell out of their seats. Not just because of Throne's unorthodox appearance, but because it was Throne Squire. Everyone in the Capitol knew about the Squire family and their little cult, and Throne was a cofounder and leader of it. They were a snake, an enigma, positively unpredictable.

"Now we're talking!" Arsinoe cheered. Ptolemy helped her to her feet and pumped himself up like he was about to run a marathon.

"Yes! Yes! I can overlook the recruiting and all that junk—that's nothing. I wanna see what they do to the kids!" He was practically vibrating. "What reason did they put down for applying?"

Arsinoe was wheezing as she scrolled down. "They didn't say shit!"

They both screamed. The legendary cult leader Throne Squire applied with no reason to the Hunger Games mentorship, and Medea approved it. Holy shit, this was juicy.

"Okay, okay, money's on Three this year," Arsinoe decided. "I don't care who the rest of these fools are, I wanna see Three win."

Ptolemy nodded in agreement as he moved to the next file—District Nine.

The file of the thirty-nine-year-old entomologist was a surprise, to say the least. Arsinoe remembered seeing her in the muttation offices, working on the concepts and being consulted for insect designs. Etain Fleur… Arsinoe nodded and hummed, intrigued.

"That's an interesting choice," Ptolemy said, voicing her thoughts. "She normally works behind the scenes. Think she's left the consulting to her students?"

"No doubt. And if she's helping with Nine, they'll probably have an advantage with the bugs. Wanna see how long it takes for one of the kids to eat a caterpillar?"

"Ew. I want your fancy corsage if they eat a bee first."

It earned Ptolemy a slap to the shoulder. Arsinoe coveted that corsage and he damn well knew it. "Never mind," she grumbled, her focus back on Etain's file. "What's a… What's lepidopterology?"

"Isn't that the junk with butterflies?" Ptolemy shrugged. "Who cares, she's bug woman."

Arsinoe nodded sagely and moved on to the next file. This time for District Twelve, the last of the Districts when it came to wealth and respect, and it was someone rather unexpected who had volunteered; Patience Gray, a board game champion who made headlines in Panem for her incredible talent and sheer luck when it came to winning every kind of game put in front of her.

At twenty-seven, it was laughable that an adult made a career out of playing children's games.

"Great, someone literally playing 4D chess," Arsinoe groaned.

Ptolemy snickered and shook his head. "Well, she's not bad to look at. Looks like there's a stick shoved somewhere the sun wouldn't shine, though."

They high-fived each other and exited Patience's file. They didn't deem her remarkable or pathetic enough to talk about, and they were never concerned with District Twelve to begin with. Always the losers, always the suckers.

But then they stopped and asked themselves what a gamer was doing in the Hunger Games. The name may have had the special word in it, but what could a person like Patience do from the sidelines? She never liked coaching people. She preferred beating them.

Ptolemy pulled up the file again and scrolled to the bottom. There, her reasoning to volunteer was a simple one: I want to see how well a game with people as the pieces plays out.

"This weirdo is making a new game or something," Ptolemy concluded. "Get a fucking hobby, Christ."

Yeah, District Twelve were fucking losers.

On the flip side, District One was next in the list of edits. Arsinoe held a hand up for Ptolemy to pause as he went to open the file, and she gestured to the hidden compartment in their desks that held their liquor. Ptolemy nodded, and in their brief break they poured themselves a small glass each and took well-needed sips.

"We're gonna need more if the rest are boring," Arsinoe finally said. Ptolemy nodded once more in agreement, almost downing his own glass in one go after and refilling it once it was back on the desk.

The Capitol mentor for One was, at least, someone they both recognised easily. It wasn't often that they worked with Valerian St. Clare, but they knew what his deal was. He archived everything in Panem's history, particularly things relating to the Games, and every so often he'd drop by their office in the Games HQ for some documents.

Only thirty and born into a well-off family of hard workers, and if Arsinoe recalled right, he was the least eligible of Panem's most eligible bachelors right now. That was a hard title to live with, but he never seemed to care. From what Arsinoe had seen, the perfectionist only cared about his coffee order being just right, under threat of hell to pay if someone dared to decaf him.

"Yeah, okay." Ptolemy shrugged as he sipped his second glass. "Makes sense, someone tedious like him getting the best District. Open up the next one."

District Ten was the next on the list—and at first the name shown on the file didn't register with them. It had been a decade since either of them had seen the name in official documents and outside of hushed whispers, and for a brief moment they prepared to unplug the tablet and hide it under the floorboards out of fear of Medea's people finding it. But no, Celestia Snow wasn't a name being mentioned for usurping and complaining; she was here, taking a break from her job in real estate, to mentor the poor kid who wound up representing District Ten.

Arsinoe let out a long, relieved breath as she and Ptolemy both sank into their seats again. Oh, they did not need a scare like that.

"There's our first lead," she said eventually. They scrolled through the barebones information, Medea's own assessment and reasoning for picking her, and there was no mention of her grandfather or the way Panem was being controlled now. "I'll try get a feel for her before Romola tries anything funny. Snow adored the woman when she was a kid, so she must have a soft spot for his legacy."

Ptolemy nodded hurriedly. "I'll have to look at the housing market and set up a viewing for a place she happens to be selling. As long as you don't mention the Games, pretend you don't recognise her at first, I think there's a chance to get her on our side."

Oh, how tiring conspiring could be. But it was for a good cause. At the rate Medea was going, all the riffraff would be allowed to do whatever they wanted and chaos would reign in the Capitol! To think, a future where District children who were supposed to be punished were instead given all the opportunities innocent Capitol children deserved instead!

They exited Celestia's file, making a note not to confuse Celestine's name with her own, and now it was time for Ptolemy's personal favourite District. He opened District Two's mentor file with a big grin, but it was Arsinoe who reacted more positively to what she saw on the screen. She didn't pay attention to the information, the name, the reason for volunteering—she zeroed in on the photo provided and slammed her drink back in one go.

"DILF alert!" she cheered. "Oh, tell me he's single—No! Tell me he's over six foot! Wanna climb that like a tree—"

"That's the guy who got avoxed for killing a politician."

Arsinoe's expression dropped. "God, all the good ones are gross revolutionaries."

Well, she amended to herself, Ptolemy was half-right. He was actually framed for that murder back when he was about to leave high school. It was a big stink all through the Capitol when it came out that Nirav Cashile's best friend had been responsible, had planned for the longest time to frame the young man and further his own career. The first avox to be pardoned by Snow before his passing, and the first avox to be given back his rights as a human being after punishment.

Still a DILF, Arsinoe thought. She's still climb him.

"Well," she said, "at least he knows not to fuck with the processes. What's he do now, anyway?"

Ptolemy scrunched up his nose. "Teaches the deaf. Like people don't just get cochlea implants now and ignore that kind of defect."

"What a bleeding heart. Bet his training strategy is to hold hands and sing Kumbaya."

They both snickered. Ptolemy, keeping the joke running, sang with a tone-deaf voice the first few lines of the song.

Both on their third drinks, they cleared their throats and waved dismissively at Nirav's file. No use lingering on a hottie with no interest in politics after his life was ruined by it.

District Six boasted a familiar face they both knew from recent years hosting and announcing. As soon as they saw the purple hair and matching cravat, both twins paused drinking and cheered, "Morty!"

Mordecai Dumort's image was what greeted them, his expression sour and his look absolutely immaculate. He was the only one they noticed having a history in escorting, and it was a nice surprise to see an escort stepping up to represent the Capitol like this. Mordecai was a go-getter, someone who acted strategically for his career, and the twins knew very well what his intentions were with this one: Rise in the ranks of normal escorting once the Quell was over.

Mordecai currently, under a normal Hunger Games, escorted for District Eleven—but for whatever reason, Medea had assigned him Six to oversee the Capitol tribute. What a lucky duck, Arsinoe thought as she played with her lower lip. Her thumb bounced it up and down like a rubber band stretching against the pressure of being pulled. Now there was an ally definitely on their side, and one they knew for a fact had a huge, dumb crush on Ptolemy.

"Oh, I'm gonna need to book a reservation before pre-Games finishes," Ptolemy said hurriedly. "He likes lobster, doesn't he? I swear he was the one who did."

"Buy him a new cravat," Arsinoe advised him. "One with a little, uh. Thingy on it."

"Oh! A brooch! Oh, he'd dazzle so much."

"Get him something fruity, too."

Ptolemy paused his preening to give his sister a blank look. "Noe, you're the only person who likes fruit jokes. Just because we're not straight doesn't mean it isn't tasteless."

"Tasteless like dragon fruit." She gave him finger guns.

"Where the fuck did you find dragon fruit this time of year?"

"Ugh! Stop ruining my queer jokes!"

Ptolemy tutted her. "Stick to our day jobs, ma'am. Leave being a laughingstock to Romola."

She angrily exited Mordecai's file and jabbed at the District Eleven file. They weren't expecting to see… Carrol Spitz?

"Oh," Ptolemy said softly. "Speaking of fruits."

"Fruitcakes," Arsinoe groaned. "Who let her in this?" And then she sighed and pinched her brow, remembering who had final say. Of course Medea let the cultured and worldly chef join in. All the chefs in Panem, not just the Capitol but all of Panem, and she chose the one who was most obnoxious when it came to food.

Food wasn't fun when it came to Carrol. The woman was almost fifty and all she ever seemed to care about was not being wasteful and using the local spices and all that shit. Like, who cared if the food was appetizing? What mattered was making room for more after enjoying it so you could keep the flavour train moving.

"Well, at least her kids will die early," Arsinoe declared. "Good riddance. Hope we never see her or Patience again after this. Woman should never have crawled out of her tent in—in—I don't know, the midlands between Districts or wherever she was hiding for her flavour epiphanies."

"Open the next one. I'm sick of this pretentious idiot."

Arsinoe gleefully did just that. The final three files were left, District Eight one of the last to be picked. These were probably as recently decided as today, which made sense when preparations for reapings and all sorts of anti-cheating methods were being implemented. They just really weren't expecting whiplash to this degree when they moved on from Carrol Spitz, pretentious chef extraordinaire, to Laurent Fille, former agent of District Thirteen-turned-interrogator for the Capitol.

By this point, it was less of a plan to find allies among the Capitol mentors to undermine Medea, and more of a series of mental gymnastics to find her reasoning for picking these people. Wasn't Laurent supposed to be on death row right now? The man ignored orders and killed people from Snow's regime when Medea came into power!

"I'm… I'm not having a stroke, am I?" Ptolemy nudged Arsinoe. "Look at my face. My muscles are still immaculate, right?"

"Only if mine are," Arsinoe insisted.

He clapped his hands together once he set down his glass. Ptolemy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Right then! Nothing like an actual concern for my safety in this day and age! What the fuck—"

"Oh my God, he volunteered because he's bored!" Arsinoe squawked. She scrolled through the blond's file, absolutely flabbergasted. "You're supposed to be dead soon! Fear for your life, freak!"

"He should be consulting Spitz on his last meal! What is Medea thinking!?" Ptolemy got up from his seat and began to pace. "Noe, we are fucked if they don't keep an eye on him. You know they plan to give the Capitol mentors more freedom than the District ones."

"I know, I know, shut up!" Arsinoe sucked in a deep breath. She was going to be calm and rational. Maybe, if she put up a big enough fit the day it was revealed and stormed into Crane's office… No, she'd be escorted out in a second. Malvolia? Right, that was a joke if she ever heard one. Malvolia Nero didn't give two shits about the twins and only wanted them to do their jobs.

Finally, after a while, she let out her breath and held her hands out.

"Hear me out," she said, tone low and slow. "We… We make a little deal with him or something."

"The man was a double defector. You realise that, right?"

"I'll make him a triple."

"Noe." Ptolemy ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Look. Let's just avoid him as much as possible. We can make an excuse of wanting security—they always offer it every year, so we can just accept it for once. I'd rather we focus on Celestia and Morty."

He was right. As much as it might be beneficial to enable Laurent and let him do what he wanted in exchange for leaving them alone, at this point no one actually knew what motivated him anymore. The man betrayed the Capitol for Thirteen, tortured people for Thirteen, betrayed Thirteen for the Capitol again, and then picked up his profession for Snow before he was evidently arrested.

Too much of a wild card.

"Right. You're right. We'll just ask the Wormwoods to keep an eye on us."

The twins both laughed nervously and closed Laurent's file. Crisis averted. Easy, right? It wasn't like they didn't have Velour Wormwood's number on speed dial, ever since he became a full-fledged Peacekeeper.

They actually hesitated when they looked at the file for District Four's Capitol mentor. So many of these choices made little sense, either on a scale of entertainment or responsibility, and by now they weren't sure what to expect. Arsinoe wasn't sure what she'd been expecting. More Peacekeepers, if anything? More people who actually knew what they were doing? She wasn't able to get her hands on the applications sent in by everyone, but surely Medea hadn't turned away people Arsinoe had expected to apply. They'd even announced that candidates would be considered from the training facilities.

So it was a breath of fresh air when they saw Charlotte Harper's name. She was a Peacekeeper who'd been born in Eight, survived the reapings and chose to follow her uncle's footsteps in career path. She was damn good at her job, respected by her peers and those who worked under her, and just recently she'd moved to the Districts with her wife and son for a promotion. Okay, this was fine. Arsinoe nodded as Ptolemy sat back down. Charlotte was fine.

Or rather, she was fine. Until they saw Medea's comments.

'Admitted to training children in the Districts self-defence. Won't pursue disciplinary action as there is no eyewitness statements. Has experience needed to mentor children going into the arena as a result.'

Arsinoe was shocked. Charlotte was really breaking the law by training kids to fight? Sure, the careers had Academies—but everyone just accepted those as prestigious schools with extreme P.E. classes. It was illegal to teach kids how to fight and use weapons and all that junk. Arsinoe clicked her tongue and sank into her chair, a hand covering her face as she finally groaned out loud.

"Every single one of them," she growled. "They come here from the Districts and they think they can help the rest of the scum cheat their way in. Disgusting."

"I'll handle it," Ptolemy reassured her. "A few rumours will put a stop to it. If she values her wife's mental health, she'll behave after the Games."

"Bribe the mayor, while you're at it." Arsinoe glared at the screen, where Charlotte's black eyes stared back at her. "As soon as their brat is of age, I want him in the reapings without their knowledge, no matter where they go."

Ptolemy nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing.

With all of the other eleven out of the way, all that remained was District Five. Nearly in the middle of them all, often overlooked in the grand scheme of things. There was nothing ever really special about District Five, in Arsinoe's opinion, and she was hoping the same could be said of their Capitol mentor.

Ptolemy opened the file. Instead of the usual application form and photo, there was some correspondence with Medea's signature followed by instructions on induction for the District Five mentor.

Saika Adwin. It wasn't hard to know who that was. The last person to spit in Snow's face before his death, twice no less, and the avox everyone hoped would die in a ditch for her disrespect. Where there were supposed to be details on training and reasoning to volunteer, Medea left a single message for archiving: All the other applicants were disasters. Convinced Saika Adwin to pause duties as personal assistant to take the final spot. Paperwork to be submitted and processed prior to the reapings.

The twins unplugged the tablet and, in a fit of rage, Arsinoe threw it across the room. The screen cracked and almost shattered entirely as it hit the wall and fell to the floor.

What a joke. Even for a Hunger Games, this rat was keeping people no one from Snow's old regime would side with willingly. This wasn't picking a third party for the Games, either—this was literally making it impossible for anyone to stand in her way without stepping on the toes of unpredictable idiots like the majority seemed to be.

Arsinoe flexed her hands. She looked to Ptolemy, who had loosened his tie to the point of unknotting it and had downed his fifth glass for the night.

"I," she declared. "Am having a bath. And then I'm looking at some houses a certain someone oversees."

Ptolemy's expression was stony as he hummed in acknowledgement. "Have fun. I have cravats to shop for."

And with the bare bones of options to try and worm their ways into, to turn to their side and keep order, the twins left their office and moved in opposite directions for their rooms.