Early fall was a time when Nature lovingly prepared Her children for the long, silent months of wintry death ahead, until such a time came when the light footsteps of Persephone could be heard again, bringing with her the warmth and joy of spring that would melt the pearl-white snow and once again breathe fresh life into flowers and trees across the earth. Out of all these delicately beautiful fall seasons in the Thelian Empire, none were more picturesque than the ones that the city of Ellistaire enjoyed. Already, the leaves on many a tall, majestic tree were beginning to turn a rainbow of rich burgundies and saffrons, setting themselves apart from the evergreens which proudly remained the color of Irish clovers all year round. Crystalline blue lakes looked almost iridescent set against the tranquil background of fading greenery, for without the competition of blooming, bright-as-silk flowers, their waters were allowed to shimmer more luminously than usual.

It was this charming, scenic view that Autumn Li found herself gazing at shortly after class dismissals at Belmont. Standing in front of the bay window in her room with the thick, moss-green brocade drapes pushed aside, the ethereal girl was trying to brush her hair while at the same time observing a rather amusing feud between two warring families of bluejays and robins trying to claim control of the tall peach tree by her window. Unexpectedly, a sudden chill breeze swept through the air, not only tousling Autumn's long, licorice-colored locks but at the same time carrying with it a sound alien to this peaceful environment--the bloodcurdling cry of a bird of prey. As the anxious bluejays and robins scattered for safety and Autumn glanced up in the general direction of the scream, a peregrine falcon abruptly dived out of the sky, both graceful and terrifying at the same time, its wings fluttering briskly as it continued to shriek its trademark call.

Below, a sparkle of recognition flashing across Autumn's dark brown eyes momentarily betrayed her reaction, before her features subtly shifted themselves into a well-trained, carefully blank mask. For, she recognized this rare bird, even as it landed in front of her and perched itself onto her windowsill with the dignified poise of a predator. Gently setting down her brush, Autumn stretched out one hand to allow the falcon to hop onto her arm, its sharply curved claws digging unmindfully into the smooth texture of her jade-colored Princess gown. Ignoring the damage that the messenger bird was doing to her sleeve, Autumn carefully detached a rolled-up note it was carrying and smoothed out any creases, before settling down in an overstuffed velvet seat and beginning to read.

Two minutes later, the double French doors to Autumn's room were slammed wide open and a svelte figure in pale green satin began careening toward the atrium in a highly unladylike manner, face whiter than marble, features taut with tension, voice raised in a cry of, "Professor Varon!"



The cherished Royal Palace in the heart of Thelian's capital was well-known both for its dazzlingly extravagant décor as well as for its excellent view. However, currently seated inside the impressive, mahogany-paneled conference room that King Vince liked to keep as his office, none of the three captains of the Imperial Guards appeared to be quite enjoying their stay inside that palace of legends. For, it appeared that their good sovereign had once again chosen to indulge in his favorite pastime: yelling himself purple in the face at luckless, trembling subordinates. Currently, King Vince was having a field day furiously upbraiding each and every single one of the three leaders for their appalling ignorance, their utter lack of efficiency or effectiveness, their execrable ways of conducting peace talks, their inexcusable tendencies of wasting imperial funds not unlike pouring water down a bottomless well, and just about every other shortcoming that his vocabulary would let him conjure up.

For their part, the trio under fire was taking this verbal abuse with about as much grace as each individual member could possibly muster. First Captain Shawn Michaels was admirably able to endure his censure with cool dignity, as was befitting a top-class leader of men. Second Captain Chris Jericho, on the other hand, was scowling vigorously, looking like he was barely restraining himself from punching King Vince squarely in the jaw. Being clearly unable to escape such blasphemy with anything less than a hanging, Jericho settled instead for making funny faces or evil eyes at His Majesty whenever the latter's attention was focused on someone else. Third Captain Randy Orton, for his part, had long since tuned out King Vince's words, drawing upon his dramatic skills to put on an outwards face of undivided attention and personal shame while inwardly thinking to himself that the stable boys at Headquarters had better have groomed his favorite black English charger after the day's strenuous training.

Five minutes passed of King Vince's nonstop ranting...then ten...fifteen...When His Majesty's "official reprimand" had passed the twenty-minute mark, the ruler of Thelian appeared to finally run out of air, and abruptly broke off in mid-sentence (a damn shame, too, for with morale boosters like "...Even an illiterate backwoodsman could have fended off those crazy ninja women better than you three foolhardy, maladroit, white-livered idiots!" Jericho was certainly expanding his vocabulary far more than his old English professors at Northeastern Boys Academy could have dreamed possible). Crossing his hexagonal-shaped office in a series of wide steps, King Vince picked up a cut-crystal decanter from his black walnut desk and noisily splashed out a glassful of Scotch whisky. He downed the entire shot in one gulp, before setting his glass back down and announcing in a low, ominous voice, "Just to let you three know, I don't plan on allowing your disappointingly lackluster performance over the past couple of weeks to go unpunished. Starting next week, I'm slashing your salaries in half and transferring a significant amount of funding out of the Imperial Guards' treasury and into a more...how should I put it...exemplarydepartment."

A dead silence descended upon the room as soon as those words left the king's royal mouth. Randy's head immediately snapped up, his mind flying back into reality as soon as the words "slashing" and "treasury" were uttered in the same sentence. Shawn tightened his hands into fists, steadily digging his nails into the palms of his hands until his knuckles turned white. The First Captain looked like he was about to protest King Vince's decision...but was unexpectedly beat to it by a rather surprising source, when Jericho stood up in outrage, throwing his chair off-balance and sending it toppling backwards. As his forgotten seat crumpled onto the floor and King Vince began to cry out in annoyance, Jericho met his sovereign's eyes in a steady gaze and declared coldly, "The day you slash our incomes is the day I quit the Imperial Guards!"

At first, King Vince looked only stunned at his Second Captain's preposterous threat. Disbelieving that any halfway sane man would voluntarily quit such a plush and sought-after job, he soon recovered his wits and began doing his best to belittle Jericho.
"You insignificant, pathetic ninny," he scoffed heatedly, leaping up from his chair and drawing himself to his full height to cut a more imposing figure. "Don't you forget that you need me and my money more than I could ever possibly need your pitiful--" Jericho stood his ground.
"Forgive me for interrupting, Your Glorious Grace," he cut in with the subtlest hint of sarcasm in his voice, "for I need only a minute with which to remind you that had I not joined the Imperial Guards straight out of military school, I would have been amongst the highest-ranking officers in the army right now." King Vince huffed, opening his mouth to counter, but was once again interrupted as Jericho plowed on, "And with all due respect, Your Highness, don't think that I can't still achieve the honor of being the youngest general in your precious Imperial Army. I'm only in my early thirties; I'm still young, and I still have both the energy and the drive to carve out for myself quite a successful new military career."

King Vince's eyebrows twitched furiously at those arrogant words, as he began to cut his Second Captain down with venomous malice, "Don't be a fool, Jericho! Who do you think runs this entire empire? Who do you think has the last say on whom my Imperial Army hires or doesn't hire? Do you think, after such an insubordination as you've just committed, that you'll even havea career left--no, you'll be lucky if you escape from the guillotine after talking back to me like that! Do you know who I am--?" Jericho calmly cut him off for a third time, an act unheard of when in the presence of a man who controlled virtually one half of the entire world.
"There's no need to tell me twice who you are, King Vincent Kennedy McMahon II." A wicked smirk came over his features, a smirk which sent an uneasy chill coursing down King Vince's spine, as Jericho added with deliberate nonchalance, "I also, fortunately, know that the British...and the French...and the Germans...and the Spaniards...are all looking quite eagerly for experienced officers to lead their armies."

After dropping his bomb, Jericho calmly relapsed back into smug silence. There was obviously no need for him to finish his thinly veiled threat, for King Vince's jaw dropped open, hanging unattractively for longer than he'd care to know as he himself sank into his seat, a defeated man. For several seconds, he contented himself with alternating death glares at all three of the Imperial Guard captains, from the subtly smiling Shawn, to the not-so-subtly gloating Randy, and focusing with especial hatred on the maddeningly self-assured-looking Jericho. Finally, King Vince coughed and conceded grudgingly, "Perhaps I havebeen a bit too hasty in my decision. We'll talk about this at a later date...I hope that by then we'll be able to come up with a solution that will be more beneficial for both parties."



"So the message is from none other than the Okashira herself," Gail Kim remarked merrily, lighting up the small, fashionably dim room with a sunny smile as she peered at her cards.
"Yes, and it appears that all three of the Imperial Guards' gallant captains will be traveling together for Ashburn Park around four this afternoon," Trish Stratus murmured, one hand casually holding her cards while the other amused itself with drumming perfectly manicured nails against the smooth, polished blonde-wood surface of the card table.
"While conveniently passing through a stretch of lonely road in the hills, both unescorted andlightly armed, one might add," Lita pointed out innocently from across the two women, an artfully artless smile etched on her features as she spoke. Victoria let out a low growl, before pounding one fist against the table and declaring in an ominous voice, "Then it's settled. The Okashira can't fathom a more perfect time or location for a triple assassination, and quite frankly, neither can I."

To an unsuspecting observer, the quartet of coolly composed and attractive young women might have seemed like nothing more than four well-bred, upper-class ladies enjoying an innocent game of whist. However, had said observer been able to eavesdrop on their less-than-genteel conversation, he would have been flabbergasted to learn that these same harmlessly pretty ladies were in the process of planning a dangerous mission that would result in the combined deaths of the Imperial Guards' leaders--or of themselves.
"So we'll ambush them while they're vulnerable," Gail sang out cheerfully, a wickedly gleeful glint lighting up her russet eyes to temporarily reveal her true bloodthirsty nature, usually hidden with great care behind fluttering lashes and charming peals of laughter.
"I'll take my ninja school thirty minutes before the hour of the...er, rendezvous,if you will, and booby-trap the surrounding area with land mines and other such explosives. Just in case the worst should happen, at least we'll have a guarantee that none of those three will escape alive," Lita volunteered, her eyebrows narrowed in a dark frown--but whether because she was thinking of the assassination or merely because she and her partner were currently losing the game was difficult to determine.
"It's never a bad idea to have a Plan B," Gail agreed optimistically, adding with a carelessly genial grin, "I'll instruct my students to hide in the trees above and prepare themselves for an aerial ambush. By the way, Lita, you and Victoria will come out of this game dreadfully penniless unless you improve your hands at whist."

The older kunoichi scowled visibly at this craftily guileless jab from the youngest of Kuro Kei's four masters, and Trish, realizing that she would have to play peacemaker or the assassination would never be realized due to internal conflicts, spoke up smoothly, "It'll be best if my school leads the attack, making the first strike and then quickly retreating. After all," she quickly added, upon seeing the looks of discontent on the other three women's faces, "after all, with so many poisoned dirks and arrows flying around--since that isthe Fourth Attack school's specialty--the wisest move we can make is to strike first and retreat quickly so as to not involve any of the other ninja in the crossfire."

Victoria nodded approvingly.
"Good plan," she grunted. "I hope we can trust you with luring the three captains out of their coach as well?" In response, Trish merely offered one of her slow, evil smiles--a sentiment which seemed to be largely shared by all four women at the card table--before Victoria took charge again and outlined their final plans.
"In that case, after Trish and her ninja have done their job, it'll be up to Gail's and my schools to ambush the captains," she detailed curtly. "By the time the tide turns in battle--in either side's favor--Lita and her sect will have finished planting the bombs and can then join in the fight as well." A general murmur of consent rose from the other three masters, before Gail finished vivaciously, "Then let us inform our fellow kunoichi, and get the assassination underway!"



Unbeknownst to the four masters of Kuro Kei's attack schools, however, many of the young hotshots from the Imperial Guards had descended upon Belmont after training was cut short that day, and, under the leadership of the swaggering John Cena, had now flocked to the school library and were waiting with ill-concealed impatience to call on that illustrious college's students. Reckless, vainglorious, and often times too devastatingly handsome for their own good, these dashing young cavaliers were currently trying to kill some time spent in waiting by scrutinizing every piece of furniture in the room...with some rather regrettable results, unfortunately.

Even the brash and smugly overconfident John Cena couldn't help but wince when he accidentally cracked the blade of one in a pair of ancient, handsomely-carved scimitars. The exotic Oriental swords had been previously crossed artistically above the fireplace, but were now lying on the floor, thanks to a certain dark-haired Second Troop officer who'd nearly broken one of the swords in two when he took them off to admire their fine craftsmanship.

John, however, wasn't alone in his unintentional destruction of Belmont property, for no sooner had he guiltily replaced the crossed swords above the fireplace than a loud ripping sound was heard across the vast room, and all heads turned to stare at the culprits. Shane Helms and Shannon Moore flushed sheepishly under this scrutiny, before hurriedly returning to their task of anxiously trying to piece back together a delicate Chinese scroll they'd torn in half when pulling it off the wall for closer inspection.

"Oh, shit!" a howled-out cry suddenly pierced the characteristically quiet library, when Jeff Hardy plopped down on a dainty horsehair seat only to find himself sliding off its slick upholstery half a second afterwards. In an effort to prevent his fall, the colorful young man held on for dear life onto his chair, but only succeeded in dragging it with him as he plummeted onto the floor, scratching the smooth mahogany of its framework when all was said and done.

Just as René Dupree and Sylvan Grenier managed to inadvertently dislodge a Monet from the wall, the sounds of a woman's light footsteps permeated across the hall and toward the library. The restless Imperial Guards froze in mid-action, before speedily scattering across the vast room and trying to piece back together what they had destroyed, with John playing overseer and harassing his fellow guardsmen to, "Act as natural as you all can!"

No sooner had those words left his mouth than Lilian Garcia entered the library, wearing a modest pale pink gown and a welcoming smile on her face...a smile which quickly slipped off, to be replaced by a wide-eyed look of dismay, as soon as she caught sight of the state that the room was in.
"You...the swords...the paintings...!" the blonde secretary stammered helplessly, and the Imperial Guards before her, so gallant and fearless in battle, shuffled their feet together and lowered their heads abashedly like chastised schoolchildren. It wasn't too long, however, when most of these lusty young men regained all their bluster and self-importance which Lilian had temporarily managed to shame out of them, and John soon took it upon himself to stride up to the slender blonde and insist rather presumptuously, "Listen here, Miss...um...Something...Er, listen, here, Miss, go and tell your headmistress that she can feel free to charge however much it takes to repair all our minor accidents to King Vince--since, after all, he ispaying for our funds in exchange for protection--but right now--"
"But right now," Matt Hardy broke in carelessly, "we're getting together a little party to go on a fox hunt, and have just stopped by to invite--"

And here a pandemonium broke out, as every youth recklessly pushed and elbowed his companion out of the way in order to be heard over the din of female names being laughingly shouted out at the luckless Lilian.
"Miss Annis!"
"Miss Autumn!"
"Miss Isabella!"
"Miss Elizabeth!"
"Miss Rune!"
"Miss Maya!'
"Miss Kyra!"

...And so on. John pushed his way to the forefront of the group bombarding poor Lilian with random names, clearing his throat importantly and declaring with smug self-confidence, "So you see, Miss...erm, Miss, we're not leaving here until all these girls have agreed to come on the hunt with us!"
"Yeah, that's right!" Jeff, who'd been responsible for hurling at least half a dozen different names at the bewildered Belmont secretary, agreed enthusiastically. "We're going to stay right here and wear them down--and even serenade them, if it comes to that--until they come on the hunt with us!"

Lilian hid an exasperated frown, silently bemoaning the Imperial Guards' inconvenient arrival--not to mention their thoughtless destruction of Belmont property--but forced herself to smother any traces of her displeasure and instead curtseyed politely while murmuring, "In that case, please continue waiting here, gentlemen, and I'll see what I can do. Excuse me." And with a swish of her skirts she was gone, hurrying on swift feet to the east wing of the building until she had reached a small, inconspicuous room.

Knocking three times in a peculiar manner, Lilian was inevitably greeted by a sudden lapse of silence from behind the closed doors, before Trish's voice called out calmly, "Come in." The doors slid open, prompting the petite secretary to step inside and witness what appeared to be nothing more remarkable than the end of a simple game of whist. She knew better than to be deceived by this casual disguise, but settled for simply announcing, "Several Imperial Guards have just arrived from Ashburn Park. They claim that they won't leave until certain Belmont students agree to accompany them on a late-afternoon fox hunt."

At this unexpected and highly unwelcome news, Victoria's features rushed together in a dark glower as her mouth twisted down fearfully, Lita's eyebrows twitched in silent anger while her hands clenched into fists, Trish frowned and bit down on her lower lip until she nearly drew blood, and even Gail's trademark bright smile abruptly slipped halfway off her face. Trish regained her composure first and asked warily, "For whom have these men asked?" Lilian shrugged, before replying uneasily, "Virtually every ninja in the clan, I'm afraid." At this bit, Victoria's glare deepened considerably, and she slammed both fists onto the table in impotent rage, causing the neatly-stacked playing cards arranged on top of it to jump several inches off the surface. Lita couldn't help but scowl herself, adding crossly, "It's no wonder I wish these girls wouldn't allow themselves to be courted by the likes of the Imperial Guards." Gail, who'd seemingly recovered her good humor after the initial surprise of the suitors' arrival had worn off, reminded the fiery redhead with a good-natured giggle, "Now, now, society practically dictates that young ladies of their age and social class collect equally affluent beaus."
"Then I'm glad you can take all this with such good grace," came the grumpy reply, as Lita straightened up and added, "Because those arrogant young fools have just seriously hampered our mission and unwittingly saved their captains' lives. Now what do we do?"

"There is no need to panic just yet," Trish broke in quietly, after having taken a couple of deep breaths as though to calm herself. Gail quickly caught on, and added blithely, "She's right. Our mission hasn't been completely dashed, it just needs to be reworked, and carried out with a somewhat diminished force, that's all."
"And," Trish added, her voice taking on a steadily more feverish pitch as she tried to rapidly work out the new plan aloud, "since both of you--" Here, she nodded her head in the direction of Victoria and Lita--"got the chance to lead your ninja into battle last night, it's only fair that Gail and I lead the operation today."
"What do you mean?" Lita frowned suspiciously, at the same time that Victoria added, "Those idiotic men asked for a number of our students, not us professors; she and I can still go on the mission."
"And leave the girls unchaperoned with those reckless paramours? Really, Vickie, that's an awfully scandalous proposal you're making," Gail laughingly wagged her finger in front of the substantially taller kunoichi's nose, causing a thunderous glare to skirt across the latter's face.
"Let's not quarrel over this," Trish hastily broke in, uneasy at the prospect of a fracas amongst the four ninja masters. "Gail and I will take a small team consisting of...Let's see..."
"Autumn, Maya, Ishiekah, Elizabeth, and Sonoko--that way we'll have a couple of kunoichi from each attack school," Gail suggested logically. "We'll carry out the assassination by ourselves. In the meantime, the rest of whichever girls those Imperial Guards are courting will have to pass up this mission and go on the fox hunt, with Lita and Victoria acting as their chaperones."

After a long pause, Victoria looked up and brusquely signified her assent with a cold, "Agreed." Lita merely shrugged, quipping dryly, "Somehow, I can't necessarily imagine Victoria and myself as chaperones--those are roles fit for dowagers, not for beautiful young ninja like ourselves!" Trish tilted back her head and laughed good-naturedly, before mock-threatening her flame-haired friend, "In that case, you two beautiful young ninja take care not to steal any of the girls' suitors away and keep them for yourselves. This clan can't afford to stage its own civil war right now, especially not over a couple of worthless swaggering men!"



Several miles away at the training grounds of Ashburn Park, Third Troop officer Gabrielle LeNoir continued to tirelessly practice horsemanship atop her fleet-footed white mare, each jump more dangerous and gravity-defying than the last. After a particularly spectacular routine, the twenty-two-year-old ash-blonde Sieragonian managed to detect, over the sound of her own heavy breathing, a spirited female voice calling down with a friendly laugh, "Don't you think you've done enough for the day? It isn't wise for you to wear yourself out drilling endlessly like this; at least take a rest for your poor horse's sake!" Gabrielle glanced up in astonishment, scanning the skies almost accusingly before finally discovering the owner of that particular piece of advice.

Nineteen-year-old Nicola Thayar peered down at the pretty, fair-haired horsewoman from the large window in her chamber, having just completed her toilette and stepping forward to push aside the heavy drapes in her room so as to let in some fresh air. Gabrielle nearly did a double take at the transformation that had come about the younger Imperial Guard once out of uniform. Dressed in a rich carmine crinoline with yards of black braiding, Nicola looked almost...feminine. It proved to be a rather unsettling change from the maverick swordswoman who'd nearly cut off a good chunk of her direct superior's prided long hair earlier in the day. Gabrielle coughed to get over her surprise, skillfully regaining control of her reins before they could slip away and allow her horse to veer off-path, then raised her voice and tilted her head in the general direction of the other woman's room to reply, "You don't understand, Nicola; I've got to keep practicing like this if I want to prove to them that I can shoot and ride as well as any man--"

A sudden shrill call cut her off just then, and the two girls glanced up to see the majestic form of a bird of prey swooping at a fantastic speed across the sky. Both of them quickly raised their arms over their foreheads to shield their eyes against the piercing rays of the scarlet afternoon sun, before Gabrielle squinted at the raptor in an effort to identify it and murmured thoughtfully, "If I'm not mistaken, that bird appears to be a peregrine falcon..."



The famous evergreen forests on the outskirts of Ellistaire were virtually every artist's dream. In the winter, endless puffs of lily-white snow softly cloaked the stubbornly emerald leaves like fallen clouds which had descended upon the trees; during the spring and summer, when all of nature was in bloom, the forests were inevitably splashed with rainbow-bright colors and the sweet fragrances of honeysuckle and wild roses.

The autumn picture of the evergreens in late 1870, in turn, was that of simple, sleepy serenity. A few squirrels darted across the dark mossy undergrowth on their daily acorn-gathering treks, several butterflies fluttered from one delicate blossom to the next, and the occasional songbird let out one or two melodious notes, but otherwise, animal activity remained fairly passive on that languid afternoon.

Until, that is, the sudden loud, exultant yell of a young man--a shout of triumph that sounded something along the lines of, "Yaa-eey-yah!"--noisily and rather rudely pierced through the still forest air, effortlessly shattering the delicate peace of nature along the way. Mere seconds after the boisterous cry had resonated across the trees, a wave of chaos descended upon the once tranquil forest, for the earth suddenly began to quake under the thunderous drumbeats of a hundred hooves, while the air was violently assaulted with the combined cacophonies of overexcited bloodhounds barking, horses neighing shrilly, and young men yelling in perfect imitations of the first warrior cry. Moments later, a pack of red foxes burst out of a dense cluster of trailing ivy vines and heather and myrtle shrubs, running frenziedly with the fantastic speed and agility that terror and desperation bring out in all living creatures, the fluffy white tips of their tails waving in the air like miniature flags.

No sooner had the last fox begun its wild escape than the august form of a tall, dark, and handsome rider half-rising from atop his fierce Spanish stallion burst out from the thick, tangled foliage. This untamed youth was John Cena, who confidently pushed his way to the lead of the party by exploiting his advantage of having come into possession of the fastest horse at the hunt (technically, the Spanish charger was supposed to belong to Randy, who'd recently purchased it from an Andalusian dealer at an unheard of price...but then again, what was a little unauthorized borrowing between two best friends?). John was soon followed by a no less high-spirited group of young aristocrats, all enthusiastically whipping their horses on the flanks with their riding crops in what was beginning to look more and more like a futile effort to overtake John and his--or rather, Randy's--storm-colored stallion. The hunting party and its horses leapt with easy grace over prickly berry brambles and around climbing wisteria vines, splashing with such ado over the brooks and streams that the ladies shrieked with laughter, before continuing on its noisy pursuit of the white-tailed foxes, followed closely by packs of trained bloodhounds and Labradors which barked and whined eagerly below their masters' feet.

The gentlemen gave chase to any animals in sight, showboating and laughing freely in their efforts to impress the ladies. The young ladies, for their part, admirably gave no indication that they harbored any ill feelings against these skylarking Imperial Guards.

Annis Clough, riding along on a dainty strawberry mare, had complete confidence in her fellow ninja's abilities to bring down a mere three men, and had fully let loose to enjoy the hunt. She laughed spiritedly, flirting with half a dozen men at the same time and generally protesting that they were being much too bold in their approaches, even as her grey-specked honey eyes teasingly sassed them as to how far they truly dared to go.

Rune Angelo and Isabella Walker weren't quite as forward as the pert and energetic Annis, but they weren't so reserved as to be riding along in complete silence, either. The former even slipped up and yelled a heated accusation that both Hardy brothers were inconsiderate cads when those two rode crashingly past her in their efforts to overtake John and nearly catapulted the hapless blonde to the other side of the forest as a result. For her troubles and her tart words, Rune earned whoops of outrageous laughter from the young men and silent looks of approval from her fellow kunoichi.

As for Isabella, she avoided making herself quite as conspicuous as Rune had just done, but nevertheless soon found herself being drawn into conversation with René Dupree and Sylvan Grenier. Both young Frenchmen were astonished to find out that Isabella had been born and raised in Cumbré, a province in Thelian which ran right along its western borders with France. To convince the incredulous two Narcissi of the authenticity of her heritage, Isabella had gone ahead and playfully accused them of behaving with about as much refinement as Jeff Hardy usually did, in their native language.

Shy and sweet-tempered Kyra Andrews rode along uncertainly on her satin-maned cremelo. Being such a small and wraithlike person, she was instinctively wary of excessively large beasts, and seven years at Belmont, with its well-stocked corral of blooded thoroughbreds, had unfortunately failed at diminishing this apprehensiveness around horses. Kyra managed a weak smile as Annis and her flock of cavaliers swiftly overtook her, shouting cheerful words of encouragement at the lovely brunette in passing. Realizing that she risked being left behind in the excitement of the hunt unless she picked up her pace, Kyra reluctantly put spurs on her horse, then nearly screamed when Lita and Victoria decided to give the younger woman an unasked assist in her task and roguishly snuck up on her to simultaneously slap her cremelo's flank with their riding crops. The poor horse neighed shrilly and tore down the road, its hapless rider struggling hard not to yelp in shock and terror, even as all sorts of revenge plans flew through her head.

The only person who didn't seem to be having any fun at the hunt was Hikari Tsukino, who had subtly set herself apart from the group. She rode stiffly, silently, having little to say and never voluntarily speaking unless directly spoken to. Once or twice she was caught glaring with unconcealed disdain at the playfully cavorting Imperial Guards, but as most of the latter were much too gentlemanly to outright accuse a woman of being a contemptuous vixen, they let the matter slip and allowed Hikari to continue scowling and shaking her head.

Overall, the scene at the forest was one of high-spirited gaiety, depicting nothing more out of the ordinary than a group of richly-dressed, attractive youths of Europe's upper class enjoying a traditional fox hunt. Certainly, nothing would indicate to a stranger observing these goings-on that the gathering at the forest consisted of, in fact, mortal enemies.



Less than fifteen miles away, the Imperial Guard stagecoach had just passed by a fork in the road and was now entering a darkly wooded area cutting across the hills. Outside, tall seedling pines cast gloomy black shadows across the path, with occasional splotches of light scattered here and there wherever pale sunbeams dared to pierce through the heavy cloak of darkness. Inside the horse-drawn vehicle, Shawn closed his eyes and rested his head against the thick brocade uphostelry, taking advantage of this brief interval of peace to convalesce from his previous night's poisoning. Seated across from the First Captain were Jericho and Randy, who had opted to completely disregard their comrade's obvious wish for some calm and harmony and were instead noisily trying to out-brag each other.
"All the more reason why yours truly should be the next First Captain of our little organization," Jericho was puffing with pride, purposely tossing back his long blonde hair with a sweep of his head so that several strands slapped against Randy's nose. "It took some true courage to stand up to His Majesty the way I did just a while ago!" Randy scowled, irritably whacking Jericho's hair out of his face and grumbling resentfully, "That was no more than an empty bluff, and you know it! You're just lucky the king didn't hang you first and regret the decision later, the way he's prone to do."
"How now, do I see the ugly green head of jealousy peeping from behind that pretty face you usually wear?" Jericho sneered in a maddeningly singsong tone, causing Randy to whirl around in a fury, hands up and intent on throttling the self-centered Second Captain.
"Stop it." Shawn had merely to crack open one eye to bring an end to the impending fight.

Before either Jericho or Randy could defend his side of the story, the coach came to an abrupt halt, nearly spilling both out of their seats. The two outraged captains barely managed to prevent themselves from toppling forward onto Shawn, and as soon as Jericho was sure that his hair hadn't gotten damaged in the near-fall, he spun over to yell bitingly out the carriage window, "Don't you dare do that again unless you never want any children of your own!" The driver of the coach called back a wary apology, before turning around to face the cause of their emergency stop--a forlorn, pathetic little figure which had suddenly stumbled into their path from the surrounding foliage.
"Hey, Mister, Mister! Please help me!" the tiny form called out in a weak voice high-pitched with desperation. He cut the image of a lost schoolboy, in his prim beige coat and trousers, starched white linen shirt tied with a little red bow around the neck, and polished brown loafers. A too-large beige newsboy hat was pulled low over his short dark hair, covering nearly half his face as he lurched closer to the concerned driver, hands spread out in the universal gesture for help.
"Sir, please!" the young boy uttered one final feeble cry, before his strength gave out and he collapsed onto his knees.

Inside the coach, Randy and Jericho darted brief, bored glances out their respective windows to see what all the fuss was about. Realizing what a minor setback it was--the two agreed that the schoolboy was probably just some little idiot begging for directions to his house--they decided to pay no further attention to the goings-on outside and resumed their heated debate over who was the more accomplished gentleman. Shawn's reaction, however, was a different story, for as soon as he heard the child's voice, his eyes flew open and he abruptly straightened up from his relaxed position. Pushing past the other two Imperial Guards, Shawn scrabbled at the fluttering lace curtains and accidentally yanked them off the carriage window in his impatience to get a closer look at this so-called lost child. He managed to lock eyes with the schoolboy for a fleeting moment--the latter's cold, cat-like green eyes sent an instinctive chill down his spine--and immediately knew that something was wrong with this picture. He couldn't quite explain his feeling...but there was something about this feeble-looking little boy that sat ill with him. Something wasn't right about the child...the innocence and free-spiritedness of youth were noticeably missing from him...And then Shawn's eyes opened wide as he felt his whole body go cold for a brief instant, for he knew what was wrong about the schoolboy!

Outside, the driver of the coach got off his seat and went over to check on the frail child, gently picking him up off the road and putting his calloused, work-roughened hands as gently as he knew how onto the boy's slender shoulders. From behind, a dark, furtive shadow began stealthily creeping up on the driver, while he peered with concern at the youngster and asked kindly, "Are you all right, little boy?" The driver had just enough time to see said little boy raise "his" head so that a pair of glittering, unnaturally green eyes glinted wickedly at him from underneath that oversized newsboy hat, before an unforgiving kodachi blade suddenly stabbed him from behind, cleanly through. He died with the image of the schoolboy's lips curving wickedly upwards into a sneer.

Shawn's hoarse cry of, "Get away from there!" erupted a mere half-second after the unfortunate driver's death, while the masked and darkly-clad murderess--in this case, one Inoue Sonoko--jerked and pulled vigorously to wrench her kodachi loose from where it had been buried between her victim's shoulder blades. Meanwhile, the "schoolboy" who'd disappeared in the blink of an eye during the actual stabbing suddenly reemerged in the tiny form of Elizabeth Hawkins, who leaped lithely back to avoid being sprayed with the driver's blood and disdainfully wrinkled her nose as she watched the tip of Sonoko's blade vanish grotesquely from the man's chest.

By then, Jericho and Randy had finally caught on as well that something was horribly wrong with their present situation. The two captains each leapt to a window, just in time to see Sonoko succeed in yanking her kodachi loose from their driver's back, and gave twin cries of disbelief. Shawn had already recovered from the initial shock of what was beginning to look more and more like a planned Kuro Kei ambush, and was now reaching over to the door and jiggling desperately at its gilded gold handle with little success. The carriage door was stuck; apparently, the diminutive Elizabeth had had enough strength in her small frame to pick up a sturdy tree branch and drive it across the vehicle's outside handle after changing her toilette from schoolboy uniform to ninja suit.
"Move!" Shawn gritted out in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, punching uselessly at the jammed coach door with his closed left fist.

At the back, the bored footman whom King Vince had so generously provided for his three Imperial Guards started up at hearing what sounded like muffled cursing erupt from inside the closed coach. With a frown of confusion, he started to turn around and jump off...

...Only to have his chest sliced wide open in a single graceful arc, courtesy of the masked and cloaked Autumn Li. The footman's dying thought was that never in his service to the king had he seen a sword quite as beautiful as the one his assassin wielded--sleek and double-edged, with thick crimson tassels nodding proudly from its snakeskin-and-gold-filigree handle, a scarlet Chinese dragon soaring among clouds painted on one side of the silvery-gray blade, the name of the sword elegantly written in blood-colored Chinese characters on the other. Autumn lightly stepped back with the first stage of her mission complete, then hesitated with an air of curious observation as the dead footman's necklace fell out from underneath his shirt. Noticing the shape of the pendant dangling from its slender silver chain, the willowy girl stopped to quietly make the sign of the cross, before moving on to join her fellow ninja who were now systematically emerging from their hiding spots amidst brambles and tree branches.

Suddenly, the sound of splintering wood erupted across the forest. One of the coach doors had been broken wide open with a vengeance, when Randy jammed his back against his seat and used his long, powerful legs to kick the door right off its hinges. All three Imperial Guard captains hurdled out of their temporary imprisonment, armed with what pitifully few weapons they had with them, only to find themselves surrounded on all sides: five darkly-clad kunoichi led by their masters.
"Aw, shit," Jericho swore softly under his breath, causing Randy, ever the gentleman, to mutter humorlessly, "Not in front of ladies, remember?" Jericho scowled.
"These aren't ladies, these are hellcats, sent straight to this world by the Devil himself!" he growled darkly, glaring at the group of ninja and trying not to let his uneasiness show.

Further conversation was made impossible, when Maya Shiranui suddenly swung upside down from a tree to shoot a barrage of what at first appeared to be harmless paper packets out of her blowgun. It was only when one of these tiny containers exploded with cayenne pepper and metal shavings on contact against Jericho's forehead, missing his eyes by less than a quarter inch and causing the startled captain to let out a mad howl, that his comrades realized the impracticality of standing around discussing the situation at hand.
"Divide and conquer!" Shawn ordered in a terse cry, and at his words, the three Imperial Guards promptly split up in three different directions and faced off against their enemies, hoping that by separating the ninja they would be easier to take down.

The ensuing battle saw Autumn and Maya team up to take on Randy in a flurry of martial arts and swordsmanship. Maya had discarded her blowgun and instead whipped out her weapons of choice from behind her back--a pair of black sickles with twelve-inch blades, known as kama, which she proceeded to twirl around in her hands with a flair of menacing showmanship. Autumn's route of displaying her weapon was quieter but no less effective. She merely held up her gold-filigree scabbard, wrapped with sleek snakeskin, and scraped her Chinese sword against its interior, cleaning off the footman's blood from its blade in a single ominous motion. Randy glanced from one kunoichi to the other, his hands hovering alertly over both his ivory-mounted dueling pistols as he silently cursed King Vince for having summoned him to the Royal Palace in the first place. Despite cutting the image of supreme male confidence on the outside, inwardly he couldn't help but wince at noticing how long and wickedly sharp were the blades pointed against him.
"Swords weren't made to match up against firearms," he muttered this reassuring phrase to himself, before whipping out both pistols and firing. Maya leapt low and flattened herself against the moss-covered ground to avoid getting hit, while Autumn soared up onto an overhanging tree limb at the last minute so that the bullet passed harmlessly through the scarlet silk sash tied around her waist. Both girls sprang back as soon as the immediate danger was over, and began their silent charge toward Randy.

In the meantime, Elizabeth and Trish had headed straight for Jericho, who was attempting to escape to a clearing beyond the forests so that he could better fight the two elusive ninja in open range without having to worry about being struck from behind.
"Coward!" Elizabeth screamed heatedly after the Second Captain's rapidly disappearing back, only to have Trish cry out, "Watch it!" and roughly shove the tiny brunette to the ground. It didn't take the two women long to figure out that Jericho didn't exactly appreciate being called a coward, much less by one of his enemies, much less if said enemy happened to be a woman, for the blonde Imperial Guard had somehow managed to pause for a second in flight to turn around and fire off a well-aimed bullet straight for Elizabeth's mouth. When the initial threat of being gunned down had waned and Jericho's bullet had lodged itself into a tree behind Elizabeth's head, the petite ninja sprang up and let out a furious screech after her attacker. In a fit of blind rage, she reached into her sash and pulled out her tanto, despite the fact that Jericho was now well beyond stabbing distance.
"Don't do it!" Trish started to order warningly, but the furious Elizabeth paid no heed to her best friend and mentor, and, after calculating the gap between herself and Jericho, arched back her throwing hand and hurled her bronze-handled knife straight at his back. Jericho, unfortunately, soon proved that he wasn't captain of the Second Troop for nothing, when he apparently detected the noise that Elizabeth's dagger made in flight and turned around just in time to unsheathe his rapier and deflect the bladed projectile.
"Is that all a stupid girl like you can do?" he crowed mockingly. Elizabeth looked like she wanted to tear him apart limb by limb for his jeer...and this time, Trish was only too happy to concur.

Seeing that Shawn had earned himself quite an admirable reputation as the Imperial Guards' First Captain, all three of Sonoko, Gail, and Ishiekah Maras decided to work together to match up against the illustrious troop leader. Shawn noticed wryly, during the first moments of their face-off, the apparent hesitance of his ninja adversaries to strike all at once, despite their obvious desire to kill him off as quickly as possible. So they're trying to wear me down and catch me off-guard,he thought with little amusement, likening the three women's stances to the posture of a hungry jaguar he'd once encountered in the rainforests of South America while putting down an 1866 ranchers' rebellion in the Thelian colonies there. When the trio of ninja finally struck, it was with the sudden springing motion of the lurking jaguar as well. Ishiekah flung herself at Shawn with the mad ferocity of a Fury, her nunchucks a flying blur of motion between her hands. She struck out at her opponent with a fever that alarmed him through its sheer crazy anger, and only by drawing his saber at the last minute did he escape being clobbered into oblivion by one end of her nunchucks. This momentary evasion hardly allowed him a moment of respite, however, for Sonoko and her kodachi were waiting for him from behind. With a seamless motion, she attempted to spear the blade of her short sword right through Shawn's throat, and it was by a margin that the latter managed to avoid the full impact of her attack, escaping with only the left side of his neck grazed. Now bleeding from the neck, Shawn turned around to face Gail, who took advantage of his surprise at seeing her practically right in front of his face and sent him staggering backwards with a well-aimed kick to the chest. As his back crashed with a solid smack against a heavy pine trunk, Shawn groaned and looked warily at the three kunoichi advancing on him from three different directions, then joined Randy in silently cursing King Vince's poor timing for calling meetings with his captains.

Randy himself was faring quite poorly against the combined efforts of Autumn and Maya with only his dueling pistols, and soon found himself bringing up his own gold-hilted saber to ward off their relentless strikes. Having fought against the two girls for some time now, he soon found himself distinguishing between their individual styles of combat. Autumn attacked methodically, gracefully, unleashing a series of astonishingly swift, relentless slashes and thrusts with her sword from various different angles and occasionally employing a small dagger for defense. She supplemented her bladed attacks with the northern Shao-lin style of martial arts, relying on her legs to deliver kicks while her arms wielded her sword, but her main weakness, like many styles of Chinese swordsmanship, was that she relied too heavily on showy, colorful moves in battle--moves that sent her sword spinning madly while its cardinal tassels flew in wide arcs like battle flags, moves which were awe-inspiring to watch but which also left her vulnerable to precise, well-aimed attacks. It was this weakness which Randy fully intended to exploit, trying and discarding an endless array of tricks and fake thrusts in an effort to force an opening into her guard so that he could safely strike her down. He lunged forward with his saber aimed straight for her heart, knowing that his thrust was too close for her to deflect with her sword; however, Autumn brought up her dagger at the last minute and canceled out some of the force of his attack, nicking the skin of his gloved hand in the process and drawing a slender line of blood. She staggered backwards in a flash of silver steel and streaming red tassels, encouraging Randy to charge forward and attempt an overhead blow which she managed to avoid by dropping down in a full leg-split at the last minute.

Maya was a different story. There were no flamboyant moves or flashy leaping over swords for her--she attacked to kill, not to impress, and once Autumn was temporarily tired out, stepped forward to take her turn at playing Skewer the Imperial Guard. Maya then proceeded to launch into an arsenal of swinging arcs and crescents with her kama blades, once narrowly missing beheading Randy and instead cutting a deep gorge into the thick trunk of a nearby pine. Watching the frustrated ninja wrench angrily at her imbedded kama, Randy dropped his guard and ambled forward to gloat, only to nearly get struck down by the second kama of the resourceful Maya, who simply let go at the last moment and propelled herself off the tree to take advantage of the forward momentum and swing again at his head.
"Whoa!" Randy cried out, grabbing his pistol at the last minute and firing blindly at the charging Maya, who stopped abruptly in mid-motion. A bladed kama went flying off into the air, having been knocked out of its owner's hands by the force of Randy's shot. Maya scowled, and improvised by closing the gap between them to punch Randy right in the face, buying herself some time while she returned to her pine and jerked vigorously at her still-stuck first kama. Randy staggered back, holding his once flawless nose. A single rivulet of blood, starkly crimson against his suntanned face, spurted out of his left nostril and trickled down his face.
"You bitch!" the incensed Third Captain swore, when he realized that Maya had been wearing brass knuckles beneath her gloves to strengthen her punch.

You bitchwas a sentiment which Jericho seemed to echo as well, for he soon found that he could no longer try to lure the two ninja at his heels into the open range, lest he be struck down by a hundred poisoned arrows from behind. Elizabeth and Trish had stubbornly given chase to their elusive prey, the former bending quickly along the way, without slowing down, to pick up the tanto she'd attempted to throw as a shuriken at Jericho's back. Jericho abruptly seemed to change his mind in mid-flight, and instead turned around to face his opponents head-on. This sudden rethinking of strategy caused some concern to the older and more experienced Trish, who paused cautiously as well and half-lowered her bow, trying to figure out whether Jericho had merely decided to fight his adversaries face-to-face...or whether he had a dirty trick up his sleeve. Brash and young Elizabeth, on the other hand, couldn't be bothered with trying to read her enemy's intentions, and instead charged Jericho, flying at him from a tree and snapping a pair of ashiko onto her boots at the last minute in an effort to forever disfigure his face with their spiked soles. Jericho brought up his rapier to ward her away, but Elizabeth used her diminutive size and weight to her advantage and instead launched herself lightly off his sword and safely landed on the ground. Once there, she slipped off one of her ashiko for easier mobility before using her still-armed other foot to take a lightning-fast swinging kick at Jericho's side. He fell, clutching his bloodied ribs and swearing magnificently, but before staggering back had time to pull a derringer out of his left boot and fire at Elizabeth. Pain marred his usually perfect shot, but nevertheless he managed to knock the girl's tanto out of her hands just as she was going to eviscerate him with it.

Shawn caught a glimpse of Jericho firing upon his opponents, and the First Captain's mouth drew into a taut line. Good for you,he thought grimly, for at that particular moment, Shawn was experiencing an unquenchable thirst to wipe all goddamn ninja off the face of the Earth. Ishiekah, once in the field of battle, transformed from a mere mortal woman into a raging demon, and was attacking Shawn madly in a storm of bloodlust. Shawn couldn't help but think that for a girl armed only with a pair of nunchucks--a weapon which wasn't even conventionally used by most ninja as a chief form of offense--the panther-like brunette could certainly hold her own against his formidable swordsmanship skills. More times than not Ishiekah tried to disarm him, and once she even succeeded by entangling the blade of Shawn's saber with the heavy chain of her nunchucks. With this sword safely trapped, she then proceeded to tug madly at the finely-carved weapon, jerking it out of its wielder's expert hands and sending it flying several feet away. When Shawn tried to go after his runaway saber, Ishiekah swung her nunchucks at his face, wrapping the chain around his neck and pulling hard. Shawn wheezed and coughed at the sudden burst of searing pain, his hands instinctively going up to his throat and yanking hard at the merciless chain around it. Ishiekah, however, was absolutely unforgiving, and his attempts to get loose only fueled her to pull harder on her nunchucks. Shawn was only able to escape when clear thinking overtook those first few moments of frantic reflexes, and he reached into his belt to pull out his forgotten silver-inlaid pistol. Jamming the barrel against the first spot of vulnerable flesh he found, Shawn pulled the trigger and fired. Ishiekah hissed in pain as a bullet lodged itself into the right knee of her pants and exploded on contact, shattering part of the bone and deflecting a fragment upwards into her thigh. Her grip on her nunchucks loosened as its chain subsequently slipped from around Shawn's neck, so that he sprang up from the feeble kneeling position he didn't know he'd taken and coughingly gasped in a mouthful of sweet, cool air.

His victory proved to be short-lived, however, for no sooner had Ishiekah been incapacitated than Sonoko furtively snuck up on him, silent as his own shadow, when he went to retrieve his saber. He saw only a brief, blurry figure reflected on his sword's blade before Sonoko struck from behind, and had he not quickly rolled out of the way, he would have been impaled in the throat with her kodachi. However, in the process, the right side of his neck was nicked, and Shawn now found himself bleeding--albeit not quite as profusely as Kuro Kei would have liked--from both sides of his neck. While Gail shouldered on the responsibility of checking up on Ishiekah and making sure that her pupil's injury wasn't going to require an amputation, Sonoko undertook the difficult task of trying to bring down Shawn by herself. The short Japanese ninja resisted the impulse to swear softly at her current situation, for by then Shawn had gathered his wits about him and assumed an offensive stance. Sonoko's eyes widened behind her mask, for she knew only too well that full-frontal attacks were not, nor had they ever been, her forte. She barely had time to deflect the first of Shawn's merciless blows, and, realizing that escape from certain death wasn't exactly considered dishonorable conduct in battle, proceeded to jump up and flee, trying vigorously to maneuver behind Shawn so that she could impale him from the back. Once or twice she nearly succeeded in her tireless quest, by faking a forward thrust and then doubling back, but always Shawn somehow managed to pivot on his heels at the last minute and counter her strike with his saber, while at the same time rapidly firing his pistol in an effort to take her down the same way he had Ishiekah...

...Until a booted foot stuck out from the undergrowth to trip the nimble First Captain and cause him topple hard onto his face. Gail Kim emerged from behind the myrtle shrubs she'd been hiding, apparently having decided that Ishiekah's bullet wound wasn't lethal and it was therefore okay for the master of Kuro Kei's Second Attack to rejoin the battle.
"Don't be greedy, now," the kittenish Korean woman laughed sunnily, adding as she glanced down at Shawn, "Leave some for me, as well."

Ishiekah limped over to the two women, and it was obvious that together, the three of them planned to finish Shawn off in one last blow. A few yards away, Autumn had regained her strength and had once again lured Randy into a swordfight--definitely not his strong point. The tallest of the three captains managed to clumsily parry one of her thrusts, only to nearly have his ear chopped off by Maya, who'd finally gotten her first kama loose and had recovered her second one to lash out at Randy with a vengeance. Jericho would have certainly laughed at his cohort's being on the losing end in a fight against two girls, were he not regrettably in the same boat, so to speak. Between dodging Trish's relentless rain of poisoned arrows, he found himself playing hopscotch--a game he'd never enjoyed, not even as a young boy--with Elizabeth and her lit bombs. Meanwhile, Sonoko was prepared to impale Shawn on her kodachi.

The silent kunoichi was just about to run him through, when the roaring sound of pounding hooves boomed across the forest like steadily approaching thunder. Looking down the road, all ten combatants were able to discern a mass of tiny specks crashing toward them, kicking up a storm of dust along the way. And then, the normally taciturn Sonoko abruptly let out a furious howl of, "NO!!!" for she realized who the riders were.
"So the cavalry has finally come," Ishiekah spat out, awkwardly bending over to tighten the makeshift tourniquet she and Gail had wrapped around her leg wound.

And who should lead that cavalry but Luke Hayden Maddox, Shawn's faithful second-in-command. Nearly neck-to-neck with him was Nicola Thayar, who hadn't bothered to change out of her civilian dress and was riding astride her tall gray charger with as much grace as possible in her carmine crinoline, skirts flying everywhere and lacy white chemisette peeping from underneath the looping red festoons. Behind them, Gabrielle LeNoir was poised atop her own white horse while at the same time holding the reins to Randy's favorite black stallion. Seeing that Autumn had penetrated his defense and was about to deal an overhead blow that would surely strike him dead, she quickly put spurs to her horse and rode out in front of the others, crying fiercely, "Captain Orton!" and flinging at him the reins of his English charger. Randy didn't waste a second, jumping onto his horse just in time to evade Autumn's swinging slash, before riding away to join his faithful officer. Nicola, seeing that Jericho was about to get penned in by bombs, boldly rode over and yanked him up and onto her own horse, just as a bomb that Elizabeth had rolled to the place he'd previously stood in exploded in a violent flash.
"You may thank me later, Your Blondeness," she grinned, both of them ducking down as they rode away to avoid the poison-tipped arrows Trish was barraging them with.

Kuro Kei futilely tried to fight against this new influx of Imperial Guards, but their attempts soon proved to be in vain. Autumn and Maya were finding it increasingly harder to fight Randy when the latter was on horseback, and no matter how high they tried to leap or from what angles they dropped out of trees, he still managed to evade them with maddening ease. Plus, with Gabrielle loyally by his side to divide the two ninja and conquer them separately, their efforts were only made that much more difficult. Nicola had long since dumped Jericho onto a saddle horse of his own, and no matter how precisely Elizabeth could throw her bombs, a charger at full strength was still able to outrun every single one of her flying explosives. Meanwhile, Luke had immediately rushed over to the trio gathered over Shawn, whipping out his longsword with a yell and hacking mercilessly at the startled Sonoko, who hastily parried his first few blows before crying out in fear and fleeing, unable to hold her own for much longer without losing a limb or an eye in a frontal one-on-one duel. Ishiekah wasn't intimidated, and bullheadedly charged off into battle against Luke, succeeding only in making her injury bleed even more and nearly adding half a dozen more gunshot wounds to her list, before Gail quickly pulled her student out of the way.

Realizing the uselessness of their staying any longer and attempt to fight off this fresh troop, Gail let out a piercing whistle to catch her fellow ninja's attention, ordering authoritatively in a voice that was for once devoid of any hints of glee or laughter, "Retreat!" At these words, Elizabeth promptly began running through the ranks of Imperial Guards and Kuro Kei alike, throwing out handfuls of smoke bombs with each step she took.

By the time the blinding smokescreen finally cleared up, Kuro Kei had once again disappeared like silent, vicious ghosts into the shadow world.



When Victoria and Lita returned from their chaperoning duties that evening, they were greeted by an uncharacteristically furious cry from the normally smiling Gail, who howled without regard as to who might be within hearing distance, "But how could they have known when and where to show up?!" It was only until the calmer, more composed Trish had informed the two clueless ninja masters of the events that had taken place mere hours earlier that the latter duo was able to infer Gail had been talking about the successful thwarting of their assassination. Victoria was no less incensed than Gail upon hearing the unpleasant news, but Lita, who'd somehow managed to keep a lid on her usually fiery temper, only bit down on her lower lip and spoke up hesitatingly, her voice rising above the noisy curses of the livid pair in a quiet but ominous sentence: "I hate to say this, but I must raise the most unpleasant scenario possible--could it be possible that there's a traitor among us?"