Roanapur Connection

by DeadlyViperQuill

The familiar tale of world powers: where one falls, another is prepared to take its place. But, this shift in dominance finds the living squatting within the city of the dead. Times have changed and the fates of millions rests in the hands of the few. They must band together or face a dark age this world has never seen. Coverart by KiraLNG.

8. Peace Sells But Who's Buying Act Two

A/N: Here's the second part of the Chapter.

Enjoy :).

Blackmanaburning and Blackmambauk

---

"I look forward to our speaking more once the talks officially begin," Hui Ying said. She rose from her curtsy, a movement she'd practiced to perfection in anticipation of a day like today when she'd have cause to use it. It took all her willpower not to squint at the intense sunlight boring into her eyes from between two towering men's shoulders.

"Likewise," said the shorter of the two men, Charles. Both men shifted on their feet, the various silver buttons and polished buckles of their attire flashing mercilessly in Hui Ying's eyes.

Hui Ying held out until both men turned away. Once Hui Ying no longer sensed their attention on her, she shuffled away, her vision so blurred and aching from the sun it mattered little whether her eyes were open or closed.

Luckily the eastern half of the hall was sparsely populated, making it a simple matter for her to walk without colliding with anyone. With her vision gradually returning, Hui Ying kept her gaze trained ahead. She did it to avoid the dozens of sets of judging eyes which stared at her with their piercing gazes and drilled into her mind their unhidden thoughts: 'What point is there in someone like her attending these talks?'

One quiet corner, enveloped in the combined shade of several support pillars which spiraled into a trunklike knot of bronze steel, particularly attracted Hui Ying.

She stepped into the shady metal alcove and, out of sight of anyone else in the room, rested her shoulder against one of the cool pillars.

Hui Ying lifted her hands. Her sleeves slipped, revealing her immaculately manicured fingers and pale skin which hadn't known a day's physical labor. Her face convulsed and morphed into a twisted and revolted expression, one she couldn't possibly show publicly, much less express to the object of her revulsion.

Hui Ying layered her shaking hands over each other and proceeded to rub her knuckles raw where that accursed Charles zi Britannia's lips dared to touch her skin.

'Vile, disgusting, horrid, dirty…!'

Hui Ying's paper-thin skin quickly gave way beneath her fingernails, her knuckles becoming a patchwork of her own bloody clawmarks. But no matter how harshly she scraped, she couldn't seem to erase from her flesh the memory of the wetness of Charles' spittle, the roughness of his chapped lips, and the hoary scraping of his bearded chin.

Hui Ying lost track of how long she stood in the darkness as she desperately tried to claw the Britannian scum from her hand. But eventually she noticed, along with the sound of her scraping fingernails, a peculiar sound whose origins seemed to be close by. It was an unmistakable sound, made all the more noteworthy for how unprepared Hui Ying was to hear the slow, papery swo-wo-wo-wo-osh of...

'Cards shuffling?'

Hui Ying lifted her eyes from her bloodied fingers. She focused her gaze in the direction of the sound. Although Hui Ying couldn't see much in the shadowy, cherry red twilight, the flashing of glossy white paper drew her eyes like a cat's to a shiny bell.

"My… what an unexpected turn of events," said a voice too deep and throaty to call feminine, yet also too nasally and airy to call masculine. "I never considered anyone else would find fit to wander into the shadows here, much less you, Princess."

A ripple in the darkness helped Hui Ying make out not ten feet away from her a tall, bulky form. The figure blended seamlessly with their surroundings, the glossy black cloak draping from their padded shoulders glistening ruddy and gold from the light reflecting off the bronze pillars. A boardlike sword hung from their side. It was a sword of a type similar to the sort Hui Ying's brother once introduced her to in their youth, during an era when he was expected to master a new martial weapon every week. While Hui Ying mostly ignored her brother's ravings about this and that blade, she remembered this sword was called a rapier.

Hui Ying shifted her foot back just a hair. This figure—whoever they were—were a threat from the mere fact of how they hid their face beneath a hood, much less from the fact that they carried a blade.

'That accent… it isn't Chinese, but it isn't wholly Britannian either. In fact, they almost sound...'

"Likewise. I wasn't expecting to encounter any Japanese at these preliminary talks," Hui Ying replied similarly in what would be the dominant language of the talks. She raised her chin and crossed her arms within her billowy sleeves.

"I can assure you I have very good reason for being here," the masked figure chuckled in response.

They repeatedly cut and shuffled the cards with the skill of a veteran gambler, without once risking a card flying loose from the deck.

The figure pushed away from the twisted pillars behind them. They approached Hui Ying, their glossy black cloak betraying nothing as to what lie hidden beneath their robes.

They fanned the cards before Hui Ying. The pattern of deep blue diamonds tessellated on the cards' backs made Hui Ying's eyes twitch and narrow just short of crossing.

"Everyone in attendance at these talks has a specific role to play, be they one of the many faceless numbers…."

A round of boisterous laughter drew Hui Ying's attention to the shiny bronze. Reflected in the twisted metal was the grotesquely distorted image of a group of pompously outfitted Britannian nobles in conversation with a group of Chinese officials dressed in fashionable western-style suits.

'They're treating this like their own personal holiday… have they no sense of the importance of these talks?'

The robed figure pulled a card from the fanned-out deck. They held it before Hui Ying, blocking her view of one of the merrymakers and presented her with the unremarkable Two of Clubs. With a slip of their thumb and forefinger, the figure fanned the single card, revealing several other numbered cards from all four suits clustered just behind.

"... or one of the truly influential faced few."

The robed figure brought the cards together again behind the Two of Clubs. They flipped the card around, but rather than see the back of the card, Hui Ying found herself face to face with the serious expressions of the Jack of Diamonds and the Jack of Spades.

Through the slim V-like slice between the two cards, Hui Ying saw the two men she met just moments ago: Charles zi Britannia and Bismarck Waldstein. Charles again sported his famously distant gaze that seemed to be his default expression in every photograph and video Hui Ying had ever seen of him; Bismarck, meanwhile, stood by like an overgrown pup eager to earn a pat or two from his assigned master.

"... and then, there are those who are worthless trifles, extras with no purpose or value yet, even when removed, always seem to find a way to slip back into the deck." The figure passed a hand over the two Jacks—

"Your card tricks might impress at a child's birthday party, with a little more practice." Hui Ying cracked a thin smile at the cheap parlor tricks and shut her eyes before the big finale. It occurred to her during the odd display the stranger's appearance could only signify one thing: "You're one of his people, I'll bet," Hui Ying whispered. She looked again at the robed figure, their hand frozen over the card in the same position as when she shut her eyes. Hui Ying focused her gaze in the exact spot where she supposed their eyes would be beneath their hood. "Just stand by for now."

The robed figure tilted their head at Hui Ying's soft command. A thin horizontal line indented their cloth mask around where their mouth might be.

Hui Ying caught sight of Wei's bronze reflection scanning the room with her wide black eyes in a near-panicked search for Hui Ying. Surrounded by people all speaking English, a language with which Wei was well enough acquainted to read and write but not at all confident enough with to speak without mincing and stuttering over her words, Hui Ying wanted to be at Wei's side as much as possible.

"Excuse me," Hui Ying said. She stepped out from the shadows, her embroidered red flats muffling the sound of her hurried stride.

"Quite unexpected indeed…." The robed figure dropped their hand, revealing to their nonexistent audience the final card in their series of tricks. "I'll be watching to see… whether you're a forgettable extra, or the wild card in this game."

Hui Ying maintained her poise like the Royal Family's Ghost ought, and allowed herself to appear as if she too were somewhat aimlessly bumbling like Wei. The many haughty officials who since her childhood always gazed at Hui Ying with pitying eyes, but who never once lifted a finger to aid any but themselves seemed to think she never heard their whispers. Even today the officials present didn't bother stifling their voices when they unrepentantly stared and said, "Such a poor thing, even her nursemaid needs someone to hold her hand!" before returning to their gossip.

"… Minister Xu isn't here? Must be hiding near Hong Kong…"

"… I bet that skundren Roku is lurking around somewhere…"

"… General Tsao is having trouble keeping peace in Guandong…"

"… keep an eye on the Indian matter, a weakened Britannian position there could do wonders for us…"

"… pirates in the southern sea have been making real trouble for Admiral Zhao's patrols…"

"… I wonder if Prince Chen will like my latest dress. It was made by the famous designer..."

"… Chen could easily defeat a woman like Sumeragi Shizuka in battle. If she'd stop hiding behind her books…"

"… Kyoto house raised their prices again, they are a real thorn …"

Not a one was worth the effort of speaking to, and it was so much easier to ignore them if Hui Ying only pretended she could neither see nor hear them.

"Princess!" Relief flooded Wei's expression when she finally caught view of Hui Ying. "I found sparkling and mineral water, so I fetched you some of each."

Wei offered Hui Ying two separate water glasses: a tall champagne glass fizzing with plentiful bubbles, and a portly goblet of the spring variety.

Hui Ying selected the sparkling water. She swirled the transparent liquid in the glass before bringing it to her lips, the acidic burn of the water invigorating her senses like a crisp winter blast. Hui Ying's light makeup left a faint impression of her pink lips on the glass which she noticed only once she returned the glass to Wei.

"Thank you, Wei." Hui Ying's hand lingered on the glass, savoring the soft brush of Wei's fingers against her own and allowing herself, for a moment, to forget all else. That is, until Wei's horrified expression reminded Hui Ying of the fine gridwork of bloody cuts on her knuckles.

"When did this happen…?" Wei began to ask, but stopped. Her gaze focused directly behind Hui Ying, an inaudible gasp catching in her throat.

Hui Ying turned around to see at what held Wei's attention so fast as to distract her from Hui Ying's disfigured hand.

The glowing sakuradite guiding rails of the eastern elevator intensified in color, the slight hiss of pressurized air rushing from the module capping the glass elevator shaft. At the same time, the eerie sound of dozens of feet stepping in time emanated from the staircase spiraling up from below.

A line of men in stiff red and gold-embroidered robes materialized from the eastern staircase. Each man wore a silver metal helm, and gripped in his right hand a dull-edged ceremonial spear. Once they reached the top of the staircase, the men alternately spun left and right on their heels. They flanked the elevator in two precisely spaced units, their fierce expressions fixating on the eastern horizon.

Hui Ying grimaced at a blinding glint of gold that arose within the elevator shaft. She resisted the urge to block the glittering brightness which only became bearable once the elevator pressure equalized, and the glass doors wooshed open.

"It's—" Wei gasped. Hui Ying noticed the color of Wei's rouged cheeks intensify before she nervously shifted behind Hui Ying.

'Chen.' Hui Ying turned her entire body to face her brother during his grand entrance at the talks.

Where Charles' glaring power exuded from the indomitable backing of the man he represented at these talks, Chen's dazzling presence was all his own.

A man brought up with the knowledge his destiny was to succeed uncontested into one of the most ancient and honored of thrones, Chen Qing radiated the confidence of one born to rule one of the most populated regions of the world.

A dark crimson outer coat draped from beneath Chen's gold-armored shoulders, the flowing fabric cascading to his feet like a waterfall of shed blood. Beneath his outer coats he wore fine black robes masterfully hand-embroidered with the image of a gold dragon grasping a flaming silver pearl. Mirroring the design on his robes, a solid gold headpiece inlaid with a single white pearl gathered Chen's nearly waist-length hair into an elegant black tail interwoven with fine gold strands.

A jade dragon ornament, the only of its kind in the world, dangled from Chen's thick belt and denoted his status as heir apparent Huang Taizi. Opposite the ornament a gold hilt poked out from between Chen's robes and outer coat, the sword's fine workmanship the product of an illustrious master—his name long lost to time—who lived in another dynasty.

'You are the answer to our parent's prayers, Chen: a dragon cloaked in death and blood.'

Hui Ying bowed in reverence to her elder brother, just as all the other Chinese in the room did. While none would yet fall kowtow at his feet, a respect reserved for the Emperor's arrival, in mere weeks Chen would ascend the ranks beyond humanity and find kinship among the gods themselves.

A man raised to be faultless both in charming personality and with the sword, women and men alike beheld Chen with desire and awe. His burning magnetism drew others to him like moths to the pyre, while Hui Ying may as well have been an actual ghost for all the attention she garnered whenever she and Chen happened to occupy adjacent space.

But while the generals and eunuchs alike fought for Chen's attentions, Hui Ying felt no desire to bask in her brother's radiance. She was one of the few who saw her brother for his many flaws: for the ways in which he thought not of the people who would soon be his, but concerned himself quite narrowly for how best to wage armed combat in a world divided between Britannia to the west and China to the east.

'It's been nearly six months….' Hui Ying laced her fingers together over the flower adorning her sash. 'How are we supposed to work together during these talks when we've gone so long without a single word exchanged?'

A cold sweat erupted on Hui Ying's skin when Chen's meandering eyes finally located hers. Not that it took much effort to pick out her ghostly form from among the dark haired many; even Britannians who looked at Asian peoples as though they all had the same face found her instantly memorable and recognizable.

Chen's armored boots clanged loudly with his every swinging step over the polished stone flooring. He didn't so much as spare a glance at those who shuffled out of his path. A grin more befitting an excited child than the soon-to-be Emperor nearly split his head in two.

"Mèimei!" Chen called out to Hui Ying and spread open his arms as if he expected her to run at him. "I never imagined you would arrive before me!" His brimming elation conflated with his sophisticated tone and fine ceremonial clothes reminded Hui Ying of just what sort of man her self-interested brother always became in her presence. Beneath the extravagant ceremonial armor beat the heart of what Hui Ying considered a brother who, while he didn't treat her like a ghost in the room, doted and fawned over her a bit more than she found entirely tolerable.

"Gē ge." Hui Ying greeted Chen with neither the joy of siblings reunited, nor with the disdain she wished she could express while so many eyes observed them.

"What is this way you look at your brother upon seeing him again?" Chen's excitement dampened somewhat. He stopped, and placed a hand over his gilded chest. A solid gold signet ring sparkled on his littlest finger. "You break your brother's heart with your coldness, Hui Ying. I thought of your warm smile every day of the campaign these last six months—won't you show me the genuine article at last?"

"You speak just like our father," Hui Ying covered her mouth with her sleeve and put on the act of a pouting courtesan. "You say you thought of me every day, yet you didn't once write or call."

"After parting the way we did six months ago, I wanted to see you in person when next we spoke. I do hope we can take these talks as an opportunity to restore our sibling bond before I become Emperor." Chen's dark eyes communicated to Hui Ying his sincerity.

While it was no apology for disregarding her concerns with his recent campaigns on the western border—all military successes to be sure, albeit at the cost of an uptick in civilian unrest—extending down to the southwest, particularly along the China-Nepal border, Hui Ying needed Chen's cooperation going forward.

Although it seared her pride to do so… there was only one thing Hui Ying could do in response.

Hui Ying threw open her arms and leapt at her brother. Chen readily pulled Hui Ying into a tight embrace, and spun her in a glimmering vortex of ethereal silver twirling around a golden flame.

"I could never stay cold with you, Chen!" Hui Ying giggled girlishly, her pearly grin eroding the last six months, the last decade even, in a single moment and returning the siblings to their childhood.

"There is the smile of my dear little sister!"

A dozen bright flashes made Hui Ying squint. She gripped Chen's robes and struggled to hold back an intense vertigo and nausea.

"Let's not argue at these talks, and enjoy this rare time together. With mother and father as well once they arrive." Chen, suddenly made aware of his sister's fragile health, set Hui Ying down on her feet. His long fingers lingered about her trim waist while Hui Ying's nausea dissipated and her black-spotted vision gradually recovered.

Glancing past Chen's shoulder Hui Ying caught sight of a camera crew and reporters setting up behind a cordon to the south. One savvy Britannian reporter in particular, equipped with a burst-photography camera, looked very pleased with himself to have captured such a rare display between the Imperial Siblings.

'How can we possibly enjoy ourselves at these talks?' Hui Ying trampled down her real feelings, instead deciding to further ingratiate herself to her brother's whims.

"I wish the talks would never end, if it means I can spend more time with you, elder brother!"

The words burned in Hui Ying's mouth, but they appeared to have the desired effect. Tonight would be Hui Ying's best chance to speak with Chen, when he was at his most eager to alleviate the six months' unrelieved buildup of desire to indulge and adore his most beloved little sister. She had to speak with him before the talks drew out his bullheadedness and made him impossible to sway with even the most reasonable of arguments.

"Prince Chen, Your Highness…" a familiar voice wheezed. "We are within… the Imperial Palace. Please present yourself in a dignified manner... before the press and ambassadors!"

'And of course, Chen can go nowhere without his favorite lapdog….'

"That voice…." Hui Ying lolled her eyes in no particular direction. Hui Ying waited until she could feel the man's huffing breath tickle the loose hairs surrounding her ears before she finished her statement. "Might it be Major General Liu Xin?"

Hui Ying stepped away from Chen. She swung her slippered foot awkwardly to the side and at an angle that would save her the unpleasantness of brushing the approaching pot-bellied man's distended stomach with any part of her body. Her small foot stamped on the General's freshly shined Alden boots with accuracy too perfect to dismiss as a mere accident on Hui Ying's part.

General Liu glared at Hui Ying, his beady eyes nearly obscured by the man's drooping, pudgy eyelids. He panted and blew, the rise and fall of his bulbous head agitating the thinning hairs atop his head and revealing a progressing pattern baldness. He was more likely too out of breath to speak after climbing the stairs along with Chen's elite squad of Imperial Guards than unable to come up with any choice words for the blundering Princess.

Just because he found himself in Chen's good favor so soon after gaining his General rank in the People's Liberation Army—ranks questionably earned in the wake of the disappearances of numerous tibetan priests and the "repatriation" of a large group of asylum-seeking muslims to their home soil without the utilization of a single caravan car—the man seemed to think himself also in a position to advise Chen in matters beyond the military control room where his brand of "loyalty" to China revealed its cutthroat nature.

While the lowly Princess Hui Ying might have been held accountable for her "error" in any other setting, when she played her ghostly games around her brother, she was utterly immune to accusations of wrongdoing.

"Mind yourself, Major General." Chen drew Hui Ying a step closer to himself. His fierce black eyes narrowed on Liu like those of a dragon about to exhale a lungful of fire. "These cameras are taxing on Hui Ying's eyes. Remind the members of the press to switch off their camera flashes. Relieve any who refuse to do so of their badges and cameras," Chen issued the command like an Emperor proclaiming an Imperial Edict. He punctuated the order with a snapping motion of his unoccupied arm that made the heavy gold plating his shoulder clang atop his bloodred outer robes.

"As you command, Imperial Prince!" Liu sputtered, his straight-backed salute almost comical coming from a man of his exceptional girth. Still maintaining his attention, he turned about face and bellowed without an ounce of decorum, "Colonal Ma!"

… directly into the face of his subordinate, who stood not three feet behind him.

"Y-yes Major General?" The lanky man removed his rectangular glasses. He wiped down the lenses with a soft cloth he pulled from his dark olive uniform's front pocket. Nervous sweat visibly dampened the man's forehead, which he dabbed away once his glasses were cleaned.

"See to it the press refrain from using their camera flashes. If they resist, confiscate their badges and equipment!"

"Yes sir," Ma received the order of his superior with the precision of a soldier who spent more time scratching his forehead with a pencil eraser than saluting.

'I pity his officers,' Hui Ying winced, and not only because of the shooting pains from her assaulted eyes. It seemed more than a little unfair that Liu foisted all responsibility off onto others.

"I am worried, Chen," Hui Ying feebly tugged on her brother's robes.

"Do not fret, dearest sister. The cameras won't bother you again," Chen reassured her. But Hui Ying shook her head.

"Not about the cameras," Hui Ying said. She cupped a hand over her mouth, yet her words were hardly uttered in a whisper. "I heard a rumour from Minister Roku that the Germans caught one of ours, an agent from one of the new cyber-espionage units? I'm afraid that the EU and German representatives in attendance at these talks won't be very pleased if this turns out to be true."

"How—" Liu staggered awkwardly around. He snapped his head left and right to see who all might have heard Hui Ying, his widening eyes bulging puggishly from their small sockets. "T-that's a completely baseless rumour, I assure you," Liu hissed. His eyes darted between Chen and Hui Ying. A nervous sweat beaded on the man's forehead where it mingled with his exertion-driven perspiration.

Rather than be suspicious of Liu's near-slip and suspicious demeanor, Chen accepted the man's words at face value.

"The Major General says there is no problem, so you needn't worry any more about these rumours you heard from Minister Roku," Chen stroked Hui Ying's arm in his attempt to relieve her of her worries.

But Hui Ying was no fool. She wasn't about to listen to the words of a man like Major General Liu Xin. Unlike her brother who saw only the things presented to him in broad daylight, she was well acquainted with the oftentimes unsavoury dark side of things. She saw the report of a certain Sergeant-Major who Liu forced into exile to die. As her superior officer, Liu should've been the one held accountable for the huge lapse in precautions, precautions abandoned in the drive for better results, discovered under his watch.

Hui Ying stifled her grin.

'I hope you enjoy coming face-to-face with her again when she hand-delivers the information that will be your and Britannia's neuce.'

In that moment, the sun sunk below the horizon, taking with it all light but that of a distant, fiery glow burning low in the faraway clouds. Darkness and silence enveloped the eastern half of the city while the western area's villas and manors illuminated the night with their arrays of sparkling lights.

A low hum radiated from no less than a dozen different points in the lookout. Tiny motors turned invisible gears within the brass beams and window casings and drew thousands of small shades over the panes of the just as many thousands of individual glass windows.

In less than a minute, the pyramidal lookout shelled itself in a layer of steel.

A loud click sounded, and hundreds of lights set into the floor's perimeter switched on, illuminating the room just enough for the occupants to perceive each other's shadows. It wasn't until the enormous hologram projector in the center of the room switched on that the planetarium-like observatory's walls were illuminated well enough for people to perceive each other's faces.

The hologram projected the image of the world. While several small patches of land were left a neutral grey, the majority of the large landmasses were painted in more or less solid patches of bold contrasting color, showing the state of the world's powers at a glance: crimson for the Holy Britannian Empire in the west; pink denoting Britannia's bedfellow Euro Britannia; orange for the resilient E.U.; the ancient lands of China depicted in jade green; and aquamarine for the wilds of the Australian continent. There was also the slightly off-coloration of the Indian subcontinent, and the shadow of grey painting China's small island neighbor of Japan.

While neither of these areas had themselves representatives at the talks, it would be no exaggeration to say that the outcome of these talks had a high likelihood of influencing the future of their various peoples. Be they meant to fall entirely into the hands of Britannia under Malcolm's ironfisted control, or join China under the rule of young Emperor Chen Qing the Valiant, all it would take was a single word, a single swirl of the pen on a piece of parchment to forever alter the lives of millions.

"I hoped we could catch up a bit before the preliminary talks began, but it seems that shall have to wait for later." Chen walked, his one hand protectively guiding Hui Ying by the waist while they made their way toward the center of the room. Liu and Wei trailed behind them, while Ma dealt with the reporters and Fei…

'Where is Fei?' Hui Ying glanced around the room. She eventually found Fei speaking to a blonde haired young man dressed in a black and white server's uniform. He had a cart of hot foods near the southern utility elevator which he seemed to be using to keep some space between himself and Fei. 'She's speaking rather a lot, I wonder if that server did something to upset her.'

Minor representatives and delegates made their way to stand beside their seats at the central round table, while the various attendees found their chairs at rectangular tables on either the east or west side as determined by their Britannian or Chinese status.

Two Knights of the Round stood by at attention at a table to the north of the central table along with their squires. While they wouldn't take part in the talks themselves, their very presence showed Britannia took these talks seriously enough to spare them in addition to Charles' guard Bismarck.

While the boorish man in a bright magenta cape hardly held Hui Ying's attention, her eyes lingered on the pretty woman Knight standing beside him.

'Eleanor Soresi… her brother is spearheading the Britannian purge of India and it's vast minority groups, when he isn't hunting tigers or getting into fights like the one he had with General Xinghe. Xinghe's sudden decision to remain in Beijing, and Major General Liu's and Colonel Ma's sudden assignment to these talks was a direct result of learning she had planned to attend the talks.' How convenient for Britannia that she'd be able to deliver fresh news to their Indian forces personally after the talks concluded.

Chen's hand slipped from Hui Ying's waist. The two Imperial Siblings stood but a single step shy of crossing over into the western half of the observatory. Mirroring Chen and Hui Ying were the Britannian Grand Duke Charles zi Britannia—Emperor Malcolm's proxy—and the Euro Britannian representative Sir Raymond du Saint-Gilles, themselves keeping a respectful pace back from toeing the eastern side.

No cameras flashed, but the murmur of voices from the press corner and the flicker of tiny red LEDs signalled a start to their worldwide broadcasts and the official start of the preliminary talks of the Britannia-China Vermillion City summit conference.

Sir Raymond crossed an arm over his broad chest and bowed to Hui Ying across from him. "I look forward to an even better relationship between China and Euro Britannia going forward."

Thankfully Sir Raymond seemed to be a worldly man, foregoing both the western handshake and kiss on cheeks for a more respectable bow when speaking to Hui Ying for the first time that night. For a man like that who knew to keep his hands to himself, Hui Ying was happy to show off her own practiced European-style greeting.

"I look forward to a deepened friendship as well," Hui Ying lifted her skirts and bent slightly forward. She lowered herself in an elegant curtsy that brought her knees within a hair's breadth of touching the ground, a gesture her position and status as a woman of noble birth would mandate were she a princess of the west.

Upon returning to her former standing posture, Hui Ying noticed the charmed look on the Euro Britannian's face. Many a Britannian noble seated behind Sir Raymond gawked at Hui Ying's limber display, while more than a handful of young ladies jealously snubbed their noses at the showy Chinese princess.

A sigh of relief buffeted Hui Ying from behind, doubtlessly from the many men who frequented the Imperial Court who were relieved she hadn't fallen on her rear with the entire world watching.

'Don't do anything to embarrass Chen.' Their words stabbed into Hui Ying's back. She particularly felt Liu's boggle-eyes on the back of her skull, and could barely keep herself from losing her composure on camera when she imagined the incredulous look that must have been on his face.

"Well done Hui Ying," Chen whispered, his face tilted just a hair so the cameras wouldn't catch the movement of his lips. He faced forward again, practically posing for the cameras with his chest puffed out like a proud peacock when he addressed Charles. "While Emperor Malcolm attends to his other duties and Emperor Xiang and Empress Wu unfortunately can't be with us for these preliminary talks tonight, I am honored by this opportunity to stand here today with you, Grand Duke Charles zi Britannia. May the talks proceed just as gracefully as Hui Ying has demonstrated for us." Chen spoke in that commanding voice of his that never failed to make any in a position to hear him swoon and throw themselves at his feet, either to be trampled or used as deemed fitting.

"I hope that by working closely together Britannia and China can become an example for the entire world." Charles grumbled in that weighty, gruff voice of his. Charles removed the glove from his right hand, and both he and Chen reached out to meet each other halfway.

A round of applause filled the room. Voices of reporters speaking in a variety of languages joined the mix, each fighting to be heard above the noise while their camera crews and photographers did their best to document the historic moment in the dimly lit "no flash" room

An unexpected ka-thunk, and the room was engulfed in a darkness lit only by the pinprick glimmer of red camera LEDs. The clapping abruptly stopped, replaced by a hesitant murmur.

'This wasn't mentioned in the ceremony briefing.' Hui Ying peered around, but was unable to make out anything in the abject darkness.

Before the situation could escalate into panic, the hologram projector whirred to life again. It lit up the pyramidal walls in a wide beam, coloring each of the four sides a flat, royal blue color.

'Technical difficulties?'

Red and white bands materialized in a cross pattern on each of the four walls. A coat of arms flashed into being over where the bands of color crossed and displayed an emblem depicting a crown surrounded by laurel branches, a lion, and a serpent.

A chill ran up Hui Ying's spine, followed by a flash of burning fury. This was a summit where all were supposed to speak on equal grounds. However, suddenly the Holy Britannian Empire's flag caged them in from all sides.

"What is the meaning of this Charles?" Hui Ying didn't hold herself back when she spun around and glared at the Britannian representative.

"No… he couldn't be," The ashen paleness on Charles's face upon observing his fatherland's flag emblazoned on the walls was enough to make Hui Ying's fury dampen somewhat, but only in proportion to her increase of alertness.

Loudspeakers embedded in the thickest wall supports crackled awkwardly to life. Two full stanzas of the Holy Britannian Empire's anthem played before the speaker static and volume levelled out. In the midst of the music, a voice boomed:

"His Majesty the Emperor, Malcolm di Britannia!"

All eyes in the room shifted toward the western wall. A sakuradite glow emanated from the elevator. Britannian nobles preparing to take to their seats stumbled to their knees so eagerly their kneecaps cracked against the hard floor with the percussive sound of a twisting sheet of bubble wrap.

"Uncle," Charles hissed.

Hui Ying chanced another look at Charles' face and found a twisted expression of disbelief so profound as to make him appear almost unrecognizable.

Charles was the last Britannian in the room to fall upon his knees before his Emperor, a man whose presence stripped Charles of his special designation as Malcolm's proxy at the talks and reduced him to just another subject among many.

With all his subjects grovelling at his feet, Hui Ying had full view of the godlike man who controlled so much of the western world.

Even from afar Hui Ying's eyes were assaulted by the extravagance of the towering Malcolm's full regalia: his velvety violet cloak lined in gold silk and embroidered with a lush garden of red roses, the deep plum of his coat, the snowy whiteness of his pant legs, and coal black boots that appeared much too tight for the man's feet. A scraggly white wig that ought to have been replaced a decade ago sat slightly askew atop the man's liver-spotted head. With each step Malcolm hobbled the solid gold crown shifted atop his head. The crown glittered and sparkled, each of its seven delicate spire points holding hostage a colorful jewel taken as spoils from the world's many continents over the course of Britannia's expeditions and conquests.

"It's really him, the Emperor of Britannia!" Wei's teeth chattered like her buckling knees. Luckily the gasps of surprise and elation from the Britannians at unexpectedly finding themselves in the presence of their Emperor blocked her voice from carrying further than Hui Ying's ear.

Accompanying the Emperor was a man who perfectly paired the gorilla-like presence of the magenta-caped Knight of the Rounds with the grand size of Knight of Five Bismarck Waldstein. A thick mop of curly gold hair shrouded his head and covered much of his face in the form of a neatly kept beard. His white suit matched that of the other Knights of the Rounds currently present. Eyes the color of the vast ocean stared dutifully forward, while his flashy gold cape plumed behind him like a sheet of liquid metal.

'And he must be Malcolm's favorite, Knight of One Sir Arthur Hightower.'

Unlike the other Knights whose swords were forged and granted to them upon their knighting, Sir Arthur Hightower's was his very own family heirloom. Even Hui Ying knew the popular legend of King Arthur and his fabled sword Excalibur. And this Arthur Hightower, a Knight of the highest order, was said to be the direct descendant of the legend himself. If any desired proof, they needed only observe the sword at Sir Arthur's side, its golden scabbard delicately engraved with crossing lines of royal blue and carved with ancient and intricate runes.

In his youth, Sir Arthur Hightower was said to have rent the very sky with the blade of his family's treasured sword, his foes becoming little more than bloodied tatters with a single swing of Excalibur.

Of course, that was merely Excalabur's fantastic legend extending itself and attempting to apply to a real person in the present day. This Sir Arthur was legendary only for his unshakable loyalty to his deranged Emperor Malcolm, his skill with the sword in addition to the legend of the one he carried resulting in his being dubbed Knight of One.

The tak-tak-tak of Malcolm's cane grew steadily louder. He strode past his subjects without so much as a glance, his cane once striking the head of a nobleman who leaned just a bit too far forward in his eager reverence.

'We cannot allow China to give another inch to a man like Malcolm di Britannia!'

Hui Ying grit her teeth, barely able to withhold her rage at the sudden appearance of the man who was living embodiment of the entire world's problems.

Malcolm stopped a dozen or so feet away. He lifted the hand not gripping his cane, his clawlike upturned fingers sparkling with countless priceless gems.

"Rise."

The air itself quaked at Malcolm's absolute command. None of the nobles dared clap or chatter with their Emperor among them, unless he were to command them to do so himself. They shuffled to their feet and awaited his next command like a cast of puppets dangling from a single master string.

Malcolm eyeballed the room, his dull greyed gaze soon finding Charles and Bismarck. He gestured to the men with a flick of his finger. They strode over to him, a momentary wash of relief loosening the tension in the room when Malcolm occupied himself chatting with his nephew and Knight.

Hui Ying noticed a light tug on her sleeve.

"I don't understand," Wei cupped her hand over her mouth and whispered into Hui Ying's ear. "Why do they seem so afraid of their Emperor?"

Compared to the Emperor of China whose presence as a living god inspired reverence and respect, Malcolm's people, even his own nephew and Knights, cowered before him like beaten dogs.

"They fear him because he commands it," Hui Ying mumbled in answer. "Would you refuse to kneel in the presence of a man who would have even the gods prostrate themselves before him?"

Bismarck and Charles staggered backward, the two men appearing suddenly drained of their energy. They looked between each other, then at Malcolm, and finally toward Chen and Hui Ying. Charles gnashed his teeth, while Bismarck's expression was one of utter bafflement. Bismarck and Charles remained where they stood, while the tak-tak-tak of Malcolm's cane resumed and he made his way—with a slight limp in his step—over to the Imperial Siblings.

Up close, Hui Ying traced every crack and pockmark in the Emperor's pale, timeworn face. Old scars the product of ceaseless warring both at home and abroad bespoke a life led by means of conflict. Dark orbits circled fishlike grey eyes which perceived nothing but death wherever Malcolm cast his gaze.

"How unexpected of you to join us for these talks, Emperor. I look forward to working with you," Chen spoke in his most regal of tones. He dazzled the cameras with his confident smile and offered Malcolm his hand.

However, Malcolm didn't so much as flinch in acknowledgement of Chen or his offer.

Instead, Malcolm kept his deadly eyes fixed on Hui Ying. He cracked a grin at her, his frontmost teeth appearing notably smoother and whiter than the others lining his jaw.

"So Emperor Xiang and Empress Wu have yet to make themselves present, have they?" Malcolm clacked the tip of his cane against the floor. "Yet, despite my busy schedule, I managed to arrive in time. I certainly hope they don't mean to mock me by showing up late to a conference they themselves begged for!"

The clack-clack-clack-clack of Malcolm tapping his cane repeatedly pierced Hui Ying's sensitive ears like an ice pick thrusting into her skull.

"I assure you the Emperor and Empress take these talks with the utmost seriousness," Hui Ying cordially stated. "Were it not for the Empress' illness—"

"I am a busy man!" Emperor Malcolm bellowed. He didn't bother in the least to check his angry impatience despite the many cameras pointed at him that very moment. "I haven't the time to wait on a woman in a swoon."

"The Empress is not 'in a swoon.' She is ill!" Hui Ying's meek expression broke. Wei placed a consoling hand on Hui Ying's arm, but it did nothing to stymie her incredulousness with the Britannian Emperor.

"You are in no position to speak to me in such a tone, ghost of the east." Malcolm tapped his cane on the floor with finality. A sakuradite-color spark rose from the point of impact like a cherry petal fluttering in the springtime wind. "Understand you will crawl away from this summit with no less than a war. Doubtless the reason they haven't shown their faces and are relying on their children in their stead is because they are too cowardly to stand before me when China has blatantly broken the treaty and is processing its own sakuradite!"

Hui Ying's tongue twisted in her mouth. The issue of sakuradite processing was one China planned to bring up delicately at the summit in conjunction with a proposition for revision of the existing treaty to allow restricted use of the ore as part of the civilian power grid. Denying the reality wasn't an option, but it was not yet the proper time time to bring such a breach of treaty to light.

But Malcolm's mad eyes demanded an immediate explanation. Hui Ying, feeling her hand forced, stepped up to the challenge.

"China is a large nation. Our people vastly outnumber those of Euro Britannia and The Holy Britannian Empire combined," Hui Ying projected in a steady voice. She gracefully met the challenge of the most powerful man on the planet, and unhesitatingly spoke her piece. "Refining sakuradite and using it to generate electrical power creates a fraction of the amount of pollution compared to mining coal and drilling for petroleum, and is something our high population areas desperately need."

"Hui Ying, that's enough." Chen placed a calloused hand on Hui Ying's raillike shoulder in an attempt to silence her.

But Hui Ying rolled her shoulder, subtly breaking free from her brother's gentle attempts to calm the raging fire burning within her. She raised her arms, gesturing to the world beyond the walled-off windows.

"The skies of this very city were choked in smog only hours ago. Those in the western half of the city may not notice it, but the east becomes so toxic on windless days that men and women of all ages suffer daily from asthmatic attacks, and the elderly are routinely found dead in the streets and their homes. Downriver, ash and other runoff has caused fish die-offs and poisoned the environment to make it inhospitable for others. But if the factories here were allowed to make the switch to a sakuradite power source—"

"You broke the terms!" The tip of Malcolm's cane sparked another flurry of sakuradite petals, and left a black scorch mark on the polished flooring. "As penitence for China's previous act of aggression, China was to cease all processing of sakuradite, and ban its import. Was that not the agreement?"

"That 'agreement' was made with Britannia's entire arsenal aimed at the negotiation table," Hui Ying hissed. She dropped her arms and clenched her fists within her sleeves. "China only conducted those tests to find ways to implement sakuradite as an energy source, not to weaponize against Britannia. Chen can confirm that our army remains 100 percent ballistic. We have no interest in creating railguns like what Britannia possesses."

Hui Ying turned to her brother, expecting him to confirm.

But Chen bit his tongue, his composure and charisma melting away. A nervous bead of sweat dripped from his temple. Ignoring Hui Ying's prompt, Chen stepped between Hui Ying and the cameras pointed at her.

"That's enough of this nonsense, Hui Ying," Chen hissed at her. He glared at her with those eyes she so detested, the eyes of a man who was of no mind to budge for anything.

"You warmongering fool!" Hui Ying glared and gnashed her teeth at her brother. She gracefully swept around Chen, leaving the conversation with him for later. "Emperor Malcolm—"

The Knight of One jutted forward and blocked Hui Ying from urther approaching the Emperor.

A sputtering chortle emanated from Malcolm's raspy throat. He turned partway around, and lifted his cane. "Consider this charade over—"

"Britannia isn't the only one with intelligence to air on the opposing party at these talks," Hui Ying interjected.

"And what intelligence might that be?" Malcolm scoffed. He disregarded Hui Ying with a wave of his gloved hand. "Were there any Chinese intelligence operators in Britannia, I would be aware. If they happened upon anything of import, their remains would swiftly find a way back to their homeland."

Malcolm's dry statement, made despite the cameras aimed at him, was just another way he put on display Britannia's indomitable strength. He truly thought Britannia to be his very own impregnable stronghold, a castle with walls large enough to envelop an entire country and which offered some explanation as to why Malcolm rarely left his country's soil.

But as Britannia grew into a larger and larger power, so did its once miniscule weak points become gaping holes.

Out of sight of the cameras, thanks to Arthur Hightower's hulking frame blocking their view, Hui Ying growled, "Perhaps, Emperor, you should orient your gaze toward Thailand."

A devilish sparkle glimmered in the Emperor's menacing eyes. The gears seemed to turn in Malcolm's head, countless dissonant puzzle pieces suddenly orienting themselves into an image only he perceived.

Malcolm's frigid, hearty cackle silenced even the quiet hum of the hologram machine. Everyone in the room, except for Malcolm, drew in a swift, muffled gasp.

Malcolm's dull eyes turned on Hui Ying.

"China has admitted to blatantly disregarding the terms of its previous agreement with The Holy Britannian Empire, and to conspiracy against me!" Malcolm's rabid expression had the veins popping from his forehead. His nostrils flared in righteous fury when he grinned, bloodthirsty spittle wetting the corners of his eager lips. He pointed a crooked, bejeweled finger at Hui Ying. "The Holy Britannian Empire, and all who stand with the fatherland, at this moment declare war on China!"

A wave of shock crashed through the room, with delegates and representatives on each side struggling to comprehend the meaning of a war between Britannia and China. Reporters desperately translated Malcolm's words into their various native tongues so that everyone, from the farmer listening to his radio in the rice field to the child observing the peace talks from her school desk, would know in an instant that the world as they knew it was at its end.

'Britannia and China… at war.'

Before the thought finished crossing Hui Ying's mind, a thunderclap of sound pierced the din. A shriek of air shredded past Hui Ying's sensitive ear, a momentary flutter in pressure dizzying her senses.

Hui Ying's eyes dilated to their utmost limits, her heart racing in a natural reaction to the sudden shock.

It allowed her to perceive every fine detail when Emperor Malcolm di Britannia's cane slipped, etching a black scorch mark in the floor and scattering a blizzard of sakuradite sparks. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the haggard old man in heavy regalia collapsing under his own weight and crumpling into a heap upon the floor.

The metallic shiiing of swords leaving their scabbards pierced Hui Ying's ear. The glint of steel dazzled her eyes and left patches of burning spots to cloud her vision.

"Hui Ying!" Chen yelled to his sister. She recognized the color of his dark outer robes when they entered her vision, the muffled flutter of the heavy cloth dulling the screams erupting from every corner of the room.

Something slammed Hui Ying in the gut. She tripped on the hem of her long robes and toppled backward, landing ungracefully on her rear. Hui Ying blinked. Her vision cleared just enough to witness Chen, crouched in a low defensive posture before her, draw his sword from its solid gold scabbard.

A flash of blue silver struck down like lightning from above Chen. A metallic peal reverberated in the air when Chen blocked Sir Arthur Hightower's sword with the white gold ceremonial blade, Chen's gold boots sliding beneath him ever so slightly under the press of Arthur's might.

Chen blocked Arthur's strike, and yet…

A bubble of glimmering air flashed around Arthur and Chen's swords. The bubble burst, and sent a shockwave of hot air screaming from the point of impact.

Something warm splashed Hui Ying's left cheek. She touched her skin and found a thin trickle of blood on her face. But the blood wasn't hers.

A firework pattern of blood outlined Chen's image on the floor. Red spattered the white silk of Hui Ying's clothing, skin, and hair, and dripped from the raw edges of dozens of cuts that simultaneously appeared in Chen's robes.

"I never imagined Excalibur would be so weak!" Gooseflesh rose on Hui Ying's skin at how energetically her brother quipped despite his many wounds. Arthur's lazy expression knotted in disbelief when Chen squared his feet on the floor and forced his way up from underneath Arthur's overwhelming overhead strike: an attack that surely would've cleaved Hui Ying in two.

Chen parried Excalibur aside, the silver and gold swords screeching along the edge of each other's blades. The characters and runes engraved into the swords illuminated from some source within the ancient blades.

But Hui Ying had no time to marvel at Arthur and Chen's fight when their swords became little more than clanging blurs of blue silver and white gold.

"How dare you murder the Emperor!" The cries of a woman shifted Hui Ying's concerns to her right.

Eleanor Soresi dashed atop the central table. She brandished her sword at Hui Ying, her auburn hair whipping around her furious face like an inferno driven by the woman's rage. The sword's silver blade meandered like a river, and scaly patterns of rivulets in the metal decorated the hilt and sword.

Hui Ying scrambled to get up, but her flowing silk robes tangled between her feet and kept her on the floor. The irony of her ceremonial attire being her undoing despite all the effort she put into an escape plan would've made anyone chuckle.

With Eleanor's sword bearing down on her, Hui Ying raised her arms in an instinctual, albeit utterly ineffective defense. The clatter of a sword found its way into Hui Ying's ears. The spears of two of Chen's Ceremonial Guards flashed to her side and worked in tandem to push back Eleanor's sword.

Additional guards swarmed around Eleanor. They brandished their spears at her like bloodred asian hornets bearing down on an enemy of the hive.

"Cowards! Murderers!" Eleanor grunted while staving off wave after wave of guards working to wear her down.

A splash of blood arched above Eleanor. Twin agonized howls emitted from the guards at Eleanor's rear, their sticklike spears failing to withstand the sheer might her boorish compatriot commanded.

"Uraaaaaaaah!" The bearish man grunted and roared. He mowed down guard after guard with the thick-bladed sword he wielded like an axehammer, throwing the Ceremonial Guards' mangled bodies aside like limp dolls.

Both Eleanor and her fellow Knight seemed completely oblivious to their unarmed pages. The boys stood with their arms up between the points of four spears, the honor of the Ceremonial Guards preventing them from harming mere children: so long as they didn't fight back.

Hui Ying sucked in a quick breath and managed to get back to her feet. With Chen and Arthur taking their fight elsewhere and the other Knights of the Round held at bay, Hui Ying chanced one last look at Malcolm's unmoving corpse; Malcolm's gold and bejeweled crown continuing to spin in clattering circles on the floor after toppling from Malcolm's head along with his wig.

A bloodcurdling scream in a familiar voice made Hui Ying spin on her heels.

What she saw behind her was a Britannian soldier with his railgun directed at a terrified and teary-eyed Wei. She lifted her arms and begged in Cantonese, "Don't shoot!"

"What did you say?" The Britannian soldier belted. He shook his gun at Wei, but even the threat of violence wouldn't save her from her knotted tongue.

Major General Liu held Wei by the shoulder, positioning her like a wall between himself and the soldier. He fidgeted behind Wei with an extreme look of discomfort on his sweaty face; despite being a trained soldier, he couldn't seem to get the tiny plastic handgun he snuck into the talks free of its holster.

Hui Ying lunged at the soldier. He noticed her coming, but before the soldier could point his gun at her, Hui Ying curled her hand around the elongated muzzle and pushed it to the side.

A single lead round discharged into the floor.

Hui Ying grabbed the butt of the gun with her other hand. She lifted a leg and slammed the soldier in his kevlar with her dainty foot before she tore the gun from his hands.

"Don't move a muscle!" Hui Ying turned the gun on the soldier when he grabbed for the handgun on his hip. Hui Ying tapped the trigger of her gun, only intending to fire at the soldier's feet. However, the unfamiliar kickback of the rifle-sized weapon shifted the gun in Hui Ying's inexperienced hands. The stray bullet pierced the glass and metal ceiling, letting in a starlike sparkle of moonlight as a shower of glass shards rained down.

To the west, Britannian nobles fought to be first to squeeze into the elevator or get past the soldiers trying to ascend the stairs. Their angry hollers and terrified screams magnified tenfold along with the sound of an automatic gun as it unleashed a clip of rounds faster than even the most warmongering arms dealer could count.

In less than thirty seconds, dozens of both Britannian and Chinese lay motionless on the floor. Blood quickly pooled beneath their bodies and trickled down the nearly imperceptible slope of the floor, a troublesome tilt caused by the sinking foundation of the manmade island gradually yielding to the Yellow River. Chinese and Britannian blood ran together like the first tributaries of what would soon become a massive river, before eventually collecting into an ocean of death.

The red bead drawn by her gun trembled along with Hui Ying's hands. It was her first time firing a real gun, going her entire life without so much as touching one prior to Fei becoming her personal guard only a few months ago.

One look at Hui Ying was all it took to give the soldier enough confidence to whip out his handgun, obviously feeling himself more than a match for Hui Ying and her pilfered gun. But before the soldier could fire at Hui Ying, a stray serving cart bolted out of nowhere and mowed him down.

Clinging to the cart was Fei, leaning backward with her heels perched on the lower tier of the heavy steel cart. She jumped off the cart and, taking what appeared to be a black makeup kit from her back pocket, pulled it apart and snapped together again in the shape of a rectangular handgun.

Fei pointed her gun at the groaning soldier on the ground who, after one look at Fei's snakelike eyes, thought it best to raise his arms in surrender—before the grin of someone who believed themselves to have won cracked across his face.

Four red beads centered on Hui Ying, Wei, Fei, and Liu. But rather than fear, Fei glanced back at Hui Ying, her eyes communicating at a glance exactly what Hui Ying needed to do.

"Down!" Hui Ying spun around. She grabbing Wei and pulled the General down to the floor with them. The steel cart came apart at its seams, the doors, walls, and inner shelves becoming shields of varying shapes and sizes in the hands of a squad of six people, each of them dressed in black and white server's uniforms.

Two people leapt and landed atop Hui Ying. They shielding her, Wei, and even the portly Liu with the thick inner shelves of the cart. Bullets ricocheted off the metal for only a moment before they stopped, the shields lifting up to reveal four dead soldiers on the ground, while a fifth one rested with a scorchmarked bullet hole squarely in his head at Fei's feet.

"What is the meaning of all this?" General Liu had the gall to point his little pea-shooter of a gun at the uniformed young man who saved his life just a moment ago.

One of the uniformed women with cute round eyes, an unassuming girlish figure and natural dark brown locks cracked Liu in the back of the head with a serving tray, summarily knocking the man out cold with a gonglike bwa-a-a-a-ng.

"I hope you don't mind. We only have room for the three of you on the boat," the young man—he looked barely old enough to be a High School graduate—who threw himself over Hui Ying said in Japanese-accented Cantonese. His smooth skin, lightly styled hair dyed a pleasant shade of dirty blonde, and charming grin were just the sort one might find on the cover of a teen girls' magazine in Korea or Japan.

Hui Ying recognized his face in fact: not from a magazine, but as the server she noticed Fei speaking to earlier in the night.

"Not at all." Hui Ying shook her head. She chuckled, experiencing a mix of relief, anxiety, and just a pinch of vindication at witnessing General Liu's comeuppance at the hands of a girl armed only with a serving tray.

Fei leapt backwards, joining Hui Ying and Wei at the center of a solid shell of steel when the ensemble of six surrounded them, the girl with the serving tray climbing onto the boy's shoulders where she used her polished platter as a makeshift mirror to observe the ongoing fighting.

The young woman said something in Japanese. Although Hui Ying didn't know the language well enough to be her own perfect translator, she knew enough to pick out the name "Hikaru."

The young man said something in return, and another name—Akane—stuck out to Hui Ying. "Watch your step ladies," the young man, who Hui Ying assumed was named Hikaru, said. The group proceeded forward amid the occasional plink plink-plink plink of bullets striking the metal walls.

Hui Ying latched onto Wei with one hand, and held her gun in the other.

A loud bang resounded and the hologram projector and lights went dark, obscuring the observatory in almost total darkness save for what was let in by the many bullet holes in the surrounding walls.

"Uh oh… better get moving!"

The clatter of shields dropping was followed by the feeling of hands gripping Hui Ying by her arm. A surprised squeal from Wei told a similar story, but the two women never let go of each other's hands. The next moment Hui Ying found herself running, pulled along by what felt like the wind itself in the direction of the glowing southern service elevator.

The leg of a dead reporter caused the doors of the elevator to bounce open and closed every several seconds. Bodies and equipment blocked the staircase and littered the ground, but the floor may as well have been clear with all the impediment it was to Hui Ying and her group led by Hikaru and Akane.

Rounding about the elevator, Hikaru quickly rapped one of the thick bronze support beams embedded in the wall. However, rather than the quiet thud of solid metal, a hollow echo replied.

A thin line of light cracked in the metal beam before a panel swung open to reveal a well-built man in a dirty busser's smock. A thick scar added to the creases on the man's forehead, with numerous others visibly crisscrossing his arms visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves. He nodded to Hui Ying and said in a gruff, guttural voice:

"Lady Oboro sends her regards. We've secured transportation over the water, and the people sent by Golden Company are waiting for us beyond the city walls."

---

[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 7:06 p.m., Somewhere in Hubei Province, China]

The digital numbers on Empress Wu's monitor blinked at the changing of the time from 7:06 to 7:07 p.m.

'The preliminary talks must be well underway by now.' Emperor Xiang sat beside a restless Wu. She stirred from her sleep at even the slightest jolt of the train upon the tracks, a motion sensitivity inherited from her mother unfortunately magnified by her illness.

"Doctor," Wu rasped between clenched teeth. "I can't stand it any longer—"

"You can have one more," doctor Eng warily replied. She knitted her silvery brows and made her way over to a locked metal cabinet. She unlocked the cabinet with a small silver key, and took out an already opened vial of white pills.

"Only two more hours before we arrive in Vermillion City," Xiang rested his head against Wu's. He pressed between the tendons of her inner forearm, a remedy Xiang learned long ago by observing Wu during their many travels.

Wu let out a heavy sigh of relief. Doctor Eng glanced at Wu's monitor, then at Xiang. When she realized what Xiang did to help relieve Wu of some of her discomfort, the old doctor nodded approvingly.

"During my time in a Britannian University, oh the way they would sneer at our honored remedies! Western medicine is good for emergencies, but it does not harmonize the body's qi the way ours does," she said. Doctor Eng put away the bottle of pills and relocked the cabinet.

Xiang allowed his eyelids to close. The muffled clakka-clakka-clakka of the tracks drew him into a meditative trance somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

Clakka-clakka….

Clakka-clakka….

Cla—KOOOOM….

Something interrupted the train's rhythmic motion.

It wouldn't be the first time a train Xiang was on hit some unfortunate farmer's livestock. Once, when he was but a boy, Xiang even had the extreme misfortune of being on a train when it struck a panda that'd somehow wedged its paw in the tracks. His mother, just another of the then Emperor's many concubines, had the train stop and pay proper respect to the venerable creature before it continued on its trek.

Whatever it was, they hadn't the time to stop and investigate. The talks were of far too great importance, and Wu's condition would only improve with proper rest—

The pittering of hailstones bounced off the metal roof.

'Hailstones in spring?' Xiang furrowed his brows. The young rice wouldn't do well against a storm vicious enough to make such a terrible noise even through four inches of steel...

A loud bang sounded outside the rail car. Both Wu's heartbeat and the car's dim lights fluttered.

"What was that?" Wu gasped when another bang sounded. This time, however, the train car lurched with the sound. Doctor Eng grabbed the pole securing Wu's IV bag, barely stopping herself from falling at the sudden jerk.

Another explosion followed, and another, and another—

A light illuminated over the door. The door swung open and, amid the cacophony of sound, one of Xiang's guards yelled, "Britannia has—"

An explosion more powerful than all the others combined ripped through the car. The electric lights extinguished, putting the car in complete darkness. The car's automatic air brakes squealed into action, jarring the car along with its passengers.

Xiang grabbed Wu. He tensed every muscle in his body, wrapping himself around Wu when they lifted from the bed and went soaring through the room along with anything else that wasn't bolted down.

Xiang's body repeatedly struck the fixtures and walls of the room as the train car tumbled, the metal sides of the car beating the ground and filling the car with noise like the inside of a drum.

Something punctured Xiang's back. A flash of heat pierced deep into his left lung.

Still, Xiang didn't relax his grasp on Wu. He willed himself to become her protective cocoon, disregarding his own safety just as she once disregarded hers protecting him from his powerful older brothers' assassins in the short time between his being named successor and inheriting his father's throne.

The train car seemed to fall end over end for an eternity before it rolled to a gradual stop.

"Xiang?" Wu whispered weakly from where she lay gripped within Xiang's arms.

An incoherent gurgle sputtered from Xiang's mouth. His lungs desperately tried to expand, but rapidly filled with something that wasn't air.

Xiang's body convulsed underneath Wei's. He exhaled a chestful of blood before he could think to turn his face to one side.

"Lăopó," Xiang sputtered before body-temperature fluid again filled the hollow space in his chest.

"Lăogōng," Wu weakly cried. Her fingers felt warm against Xiang's bloodsoaked cheek. "You shouldn't have…."

Xiang lifted a shaky hand to his cheek. He grasped Wu's thin fingers. 'Gun Yam, protect my dear—'

A horrendous crunching and pounding struck the side of the train car directly above Xiang and Wu.

The door to the room ripped open. The waxing evening crescent illuminated the interior of the car with its silvery glow through a puncture ripped in the car's outer wall.

A pair of small shadows peered down into the car. In Xiang's delirium, he thought he heard an impossible sound: the laughter of children at play.

But that wouldn't make any sense, for children to be in a place like this...

"Look, Fratele Meu! There's one for each of us!" A young girl with waist-length, pale blonde hair sweetly giggled.

"They look just like two grubs curled up in a dead treetrunk, Sora Mea." A young boy with bob-cut hair and features similar to the girl chuckled and grinned.

"I guess that makes us the woodpeckers then, doesn't it?" A polelike shadow emerged from behind the girl, and glittered with the polished sheen of black carbon steel.

The percussion of an automatic rifle pelted the inside of the car, a hail of bullets streaking to a point just a few feet from where Xiang and Wu lay. Xiang shifted his his eyes in their sockets and saw the twitching, mutilated body of the guard who entered Wu's private room in the moment before the car derailed.

A handgun of the sort that was standard issue to even the most lowly soldier skittered across the floor toward Xiang. One of the guards' fingers, severed by the rapid and indiscriminate gunfire, remained on the trigger.

Xiang sputtered, too weak to do anything else to express his surprise when he saw Wu reach for the gun with her pale, thin arm.

A shadow flickered across the moon. Wu's fingers flicked the handle of the gun once, before going completely limp.

Warmth soaked through the thick robes covering Xiang's belly. Wu slid off of Xiang, half of her to the left, and the other half to the right. Her eyes stared blankly into his through the gaps in her bloodsoaked hair.

"Whoops, looks like I got both of them in one swing. Sorry Sora Mea." The child with the boyish voice lamented. He landed between Wu's upper half and the disfigured body of Xiang's former guard.

The last thing Xiang saw clearly was his hand, still interlaced with Wu's. A shadow in the shape of an axe—a strange thing to imagine, Xiang thought—lowered behind Wu and seemed to set on the ground.

"That's alright Fratele Meu, you're still getting used to your new arm. I forgive you," the girlish child responded. A sound like the fluttering of a dove's wings swooped down, and what sounded like a pair of feet splashed near Xiang's ear.

"Look Fratele Meu, the Emperor is still alive! And how romantic!" The female voice bent closer to Xiang's ear. If Xiang could feel anything anymore, his nose might've tickled at the girls' long hair brushing over his nose. "Fratele Meu, promise me we'll die just like them, in a pool of each other's blood."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sora Mea," the boy responded.

The last thing Emperor Xiang perceived before his final sense dimmed was the echoing laughter of a young boy and girl.

'Chen… Hui Ying….'

---

[Date: 06/04/1995 ATB, Time: 7:18 pm, Royal Residence Maintenance Labrynth, Vermillion City, China]

Flanked on all sides by her new escorts, Hui Ying, Wei, and Fei sped through a labyrinthine maze of service shafts and tunnels. They whizzed past signs, turned at forks, and took otherwise unused pathways that led them on a general downward path, only encountering a handful of bewildered staff. For once Hui Ying felt like she was in the company of people who deserved the title of "ghost" more than her, her and Wei's slippered feet somehow making more noise than Fei in her heels and the group of "servants" wielding heavy metal shields.

"We'll be at the docks soon, Princess!" Hikaru flashed a winning smile at Hui Ying, the sort of "put your faith in me" grin that would probably make any other girl melt and throw themselves at him.

"Quiet, Hibiki!" The gruff man leading the group growled in Japanese. He was a bit on the short side, the top of his head only bobbing as high as Hui Ying's chin, yet his snarl made the lot of young operatives—including Hikaru—wince.

The short man sharply turned down a narrow side corridor. He pulled a ring of keys out of a pocket in his dirty apron, and unlocked a door labeled with Chinese symbols and Britannian letters underneath: Waterway Control.

"... the water! I don't want to hear that Chinese bitch got through on my watch!" A Britannian man in a high ranking officer's uniform spat the order into a microphone. He slammed his fist on the table just when the door swung open, effectively distracting the half dozen officers in the room from noticing anything.

The leader of the group swiped the gun from Hui Ying's soft hands. He expertly planted a bullet at the base of the head of each person already in the room, the quiet sakuradite railgun proving more than powerful enough to spatter several of the many dozens of screens making up the surrounding walls with blood.

Five of the "servants" wielding shields frisked the officers' bodies and walked away with at least one handgun each.

The boy, Hikaru, walked over to the man who was obviously his superior in this operation. "Sorry, Goru," Hikaru apologized with a sheepish bob of his head in a gesture that didn't put his shoulders lower than Goru's nose.

Goru slammed his large hand down on Hikaru's dyed hair. He roughed the young man's photoshoot-ready gelled hair into a spiky and disheveled mess. While Hui Ying couldn't quite make out all of what Goru said in his odd Japanese dialect, she did pick up on the name "Oboro"—the name of one of the contacts Hui Ying had Fei work closely with in preparation for this stopgap escape.

'Britannia's declared war on China. And Emperor Malcolm… he's really dead.'

It took only a moment for the peaceful talks to turn bloody once Malcolm declared war. With all the cameras broadcasting live at the moment of Malcolm's declaration and fall, there would be no containing the ember of Vermillion City.

The entire world would soon be aflame with various countries all taking advantage of the monumental shift and confusion to try and gain advantage over the others.

It would be a bloodbath unlike anything the world had ever seen.

"Princess," Fei brought Hui Ying's attention back to the briefcase in her possession.

Hui Ying reached under her robes and produced a small steel key. A slight chik sounded when the fine lock on the briefcase opened. Hui Ying lifted open the briefcase. She carefully handed the papers and case of data sticks inside to Wei before pressing down on the almost velvety inside of the thick, heavy case—

Hui Ying pulled from the top and bottom of the briefcase a pair of thin velveteen vests filled with a curious liquid; the vests were supposedly even more effective than kevlar, only one of the latest advancements in technology that Chinese spies brought back from overseas. Beneath the vests were also a pair of small, thin guns made up of 100 percent plastic components, similar to the gun General Liu saw fit to try and smuggle in under his belt.

Hui Ying kept one gun for herself, offering the other to a reluctant Wei. While the guns wouldn't do much, they would serve as a fine last line of defense, should they be necessary.

"I think you'll find these more useful." Akane —the girl who knocked General Liu out with a metal platter—offered up a trio of revolvers, their bullet chambers fully loaded with rounds.

A flurry of Japanese followed with the various servants scouring the control board until the working screens all displayed shots of the levees, dikes, and canals throughout Vermillion City. Red lights beside the screens flashed one by one to green.

Goru barked an order to the young men and women dressed as servants, each responding in turn when he spoke the names Keiko, Yui, Sota, and Ryuki. They set themselves to the task of piling furniture—and even a water cooler—in front of the door they'd just come through.

"It's 600 yards to the boat that's waiting for us," Goru said. He sped on his short legs to a back wall where there was a heavy looking black door labeled Dock L.

Again the servants took up positions with their shields around Hui Ying, Wei, and Fei.

"Hui Ying," Wei whispered. She gripped Hui Ying's hand, their soft fingers knitting together without a slip of space between. "We won't be returning to China for a while, will we?"

"Perhaps," Hui Ying whispered in return. "There may not be a China to return to, when all this is over."

The two women directed their steadfast gazes at each other. Without so much as a hint of concern for the eight sets of eyes observing them, the two women embraced as if for the first time, their lips coming together with unrestrained passion in the final moment before they abandoned everything they knew.

Hikaru stared wide-eyed at the scene taking place in front of him, his rumpled hair magnificently complimenting his dumbfounded expression. He choked back a disappointed whimper, his shoulders falling in a heavy slump while Keiko, Yui, Sota, and Ryuki did their best to hold back their chuckles of amusement.

Akane rolled her eyes and said in crystal clear Japanese, " I don't know why you thought you stood a chance with a princess to begin with. This isn't an anime."

Goru barked an order that immediately silenced his six charges. Hui Ying and Wei reluctantly pulled apart, both with bright blushes on their faces. They kept their fingers interlaced while those around them readied their weapons and shields.

Goru tapped open the door. He eyed the dock for a moment before carefully tiptoeing out.

The group stepped out into a concrete-slabbed district of warehouses. The moon, waxed to nearly half its full strength, shimmered down on what appeared to be a relatively quiet dock manned only by a handful of soldiers. Sounds of gunfire to the east made Hui Ying's heart jump in her chest, a sentiment obviously felt by Wei as well from the way she tightened her grasp on Hui Ying.

Taking the lead position, Goru stuck to the dark and shady areas of the docks, bypassing large crates, cranes, and boats of all sizes on the way out to the open water.

Before long, the group came to the end of the docks. Goru reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sachet, inside of which was a tiny square mirror like what a housewife might carry in her purse.

He flashed a pattern using the dim moonlight. The gentle hum of a motor revved up, and a glossy black speedboat peeked out from the shadow of a large cargo ship flying a Britannian flag.

'We're sneaking out right underneath their noses.' Hui Ying gulped. Things were going so well, she hesitated to think they'd escape so easily.

"You're first, Princess," Goru firmly set his eyes on Hui Ying.

Hui Ying gave Wei a look before the two hesitantly released each other from their grasp. Goru latched his sausagelike fingers onto Hui Ying by her thin waist, his burly muscles easily hefting the thin woman from the pier and gently handing her down into the hovercraft to a pair of waiting hands.

"Well… you certainly are some of the loveliest baggage I've ever been tasked with transporting," said the man who accepted Hui Ying into his hands. He was a man who looked to be in his 30s, with tanned skin and features which were otherwise decidedly rooted somewhere in southern Euro Britannian. His dirty blonde hair glistened with natural oil and he left the top three buttons of his loose shirt undone, yet it was the messy sort of look which somehow only seemed to magnify the natural charisma of the man before Hui Ying as he removed his feathered hat with a showy flourish and bowed. "My name is Sancho, and my partner Sulamian and I are here to provide our escort services to you and yours, Princess, on behalf of Golden Company. Should there be anything you find yourself in need of during our brief voyage, please, don't hesitate to ask."

Sancho replaced his hat on his head as Fei leapt down onto the boat with her own strength, followed by Hikaru, Akane, and two others in servant clothes who each landed gracefully like cats on the listing craft.

"Miss?" Goru stepped back from the edge of the pier. "Now's not the time for—"

Hui Ying perceived the the hum of a motor above just a split second before a bright spotlight flashed the pier.

"WEI!" Hui Ying screamed, her voice completely drowned out by a flurry of machine gunfire.

Sancho grabbed Hui Ying and forced her down onto the deck. The dual motors in the back of the speedboat spun viciously in the water, the boat making a quick, almost logic-defying spin to catch a pair of large shadows that fell from the dock.

The boat sped full tilt away from the dockson its way to the wide-open river gate. Everyone in the boat clung to anything in reach to keep from getting thrown off the boat as it wove in wild patterns in an effort to evade the majority of the Britannian helicraft's bullets.

Crafts both civilian and official alike moored themselves with bright white flags illuminated on their decks in a vain attempt to stay out of the fighting as fires broke out in the surrounding city. The oppressed and oppressors of the population alike reacted to the news that Britannia and China were officially at war, a reaction that would likely only grow more violent as time wore on.

A sonic boom ripped through the sky. A battalion of attack planes shot past like singleminded hornets from the west. One let down a purple Knightmare frame on the docks, while the rest continued onward to unleash a barrage of bullets on the eastern quadrant. Explosions too large to be from gas leaks bombarded the area as the planes dropped their entire payload on the unsuspecting citizens whose night off also marked their last.

But Hui Ying was of no mind to damn the Britannians whose preparedness for war far outdid their efforts at the talks.

Amid the gunfire and frenzied whirring of the speedboat's dual motors, Hui Ying slammed her palm under Sancho's chin, throwing him off just enough for her to wriggle out from underneath him. She darted to the back of the craft where the two figures who fell from the pier landed.

One was Goru, the stout man's arm and leg bleeding from a pair of holes blasted in them that appeared, compared to his many other scars, benign.

Not far from him was Wei. She gripped a humongous silver case in her arms, something Hui Ying never saw before. The case was pockmarked with dents, some of which still had bullets firmly embedded in the dimples.

"What is this?" Hui Ying stumbled when the boat veered to the right in a tight turn. She held herself back from leaping onto Wei, but looked her over as best she could in an effort to find any unseen injuries Wei might've sustained.

"R-reparations," Wei's grin trembled as she tried to lift the heavy case from her body.

"I hope those 'reparations' of yours are worth it; they just cost two kids their lives!" Goru snapped at Wei. He let out an angry hiss as Akane stuck her fingers into his wounds to retrieve the bullets before applying further first aid.

The sound of gunfire intensified as additional Britannian helicraft joined the chase after the hovercraft weaving at maximum speed through the city's canals. The craft turned a final bend and the Yellow River opened up before them, but the helicraft showed no sign of backing off.

"I can't shake them!" The boat operator shouted in a quick accent. One glance confirmed Hui Ying's suspicions after hearing the name Sulamain earlier; the operator's dark and weathered skin, deep-set eyes, accent, and scruffy beard proved to her he was a man from one of the many desert countries formerly known as the Middle East.

A bullet struck one of the twin motors, the motor shrieking and clunking as though it were in pain before cutting out and reducing the boat's power to a fraction of its full speed.

"Mr. Ganabati's not going to be happy if we let his game show prize get any more roughed up than this," Sancho said. He patted Sulamain on the shoulder and bolted to the back of the boat with the agility of a seaman well acquainted with travel through rough waters.

Sancho threw up one of the back seats of the speedboat, revealing a chest typically reserved for life jackets and the like.

However, rather than pulling out any life jackets…

Sancho hefted a heavy metal tube out of the chest. He slammed one foot down on the dead motor and aimed the metal tube at the lead helicraft.

"I do love it when a chase ends with a nice big bang."

A blast of fire erupted out the back of the metal tube as a small missile streaked toward the lead helicraft. The missile struck true dead in the center of the craft's windshield, and the helicraft exploded in a conflagration of flam before the gnarled mess of burning metal dropped into the water. Sancho quickly swapped out his spent launcher for another and shot down a second craft, followed by the third.

Sulamain cut the speedboat down to low, the boat's loud single motor slowing to a gentle hum that just barely kept it moving upstream against the Yellow River's flow.

Sancho wiped his forearm over his brow and exhaled a long breath. He hopped down onto the deck of the boat and flipped his hair to the side. "Nice work people. The next stop on our whirlwind tour will be..."

Rather than listen to Sancho's briefing of the next leg of their journey, Hui Ying's attention focused wholly on Vermillion City behind her.

Luoyang was destroyed in one of the most devastating floods in all of China's history. It seemed fitting in a way that its replacement Vermillion City, designed to withstand such a watery catastrophe from ever occurring again, would meet its end in the form of hellish flames, a torchlight and herald to the fire and bloodshed to come.

---

[Date: 07/04/1995 ATB, Time: 9:30 am, Lagoon Company Office, Roanapur, Thailand]

A young man the image of the quintessential Japanese businessman walked out of the bathroom and into the central room of a rather dingy apartment. The apartment was set up to look like an office. However, one look and anyone with even a little bit of common decency or sense would never choose to do business with any business who kept an office like this.

Luckily for this particular company, they catered specifically to clients without decency or sense.

A plum colored sofa and chair set were rather awkwardly arranged toward one side of the room, the velveteen surfaces pitted with cigarette burns. A short table in the middle of the room looked no better than the sofa and chair, the humidity-warped wood studded with bulletholes and piled with a mix of refuse, from half crushed silver beer cans and old pizza boxes, and over a dozen illicit magazines depicting unbelievably brazen men and women on the covers tempting anyone who sees them to take a look inside.

The young man rifled through the stinking beer cans, several of them clattering to the floor before he managed to find the remote to a shoebox size radio television set in a corner of the room.

He pressed the power button on the remote and the fuzzy television screen flashed on. The television needed several seconds to warm up before the picture cleared and any sort of intelligible sound would come out, time which this prudent young man made the best of by setting himself to the task of perfectlying tying a tie around his neck.

But the young man stopped his diligent task, just a final tug from cinching the neucelike tie.

'This… is not good.'

"... of surgery has survived an assassination attempt-t the Vermillion City- declaring war between the Holy Britannian Empire and China."

Images of riots around the world flashed the screen. Burning homes and businesses in Britannian occupied territories. People lying dead or dying in the streets. Knightmares winning out against a fleet of tanks via their superior mobility. Vermillion City, recognizable only because of how often it'd been in the news of late, nearly unrecognizable after a single night of warring reduced three quarters of the once resplendent gem of a city to a pile of blackened rubble.

A calmer image flashed upon the screen and depicted Emperor Malcolm di Britannia, unconscious and hooked up to life support with bandages wrapping his eye. A timestamp placed the photograph at just a few hours prior, while a footer below the image read in bold letters:

Britannia Declares War on China. Emperor Survives Assassination Attempt.

The image changed again, to that of a train's wreckage. Aerial and ground shots show the blackened and charred remains of the Chinese Royal Train, the ornate red and gold cars crushed like beer cans and several hundreds of feet down a steep mountain from the tracks. One shot depicted the glowing remains of the train's lead engine, the dented out and half melted down cab sparkling with traces of sakuradite ore.

Chinese Emperor and Empress Perish in Train Derailment after Sakuradite Explosion.

The"office" door slammed open. A dented bell jangled awkwardly above the door in ineffective protest.

A young woman rather outrageously clad in a black crop top, military boots, and denim shorts that looked like they'd been cut off above the thigh by a worn out machete stormed into the room. A barblike pattern of black crescents decorated the athletically built woman's left arm spanning from her neck to her elbow. In the crook of her arm were a pair of holsters packing twin ivory-handled handguns.

The woman's sharp expression beneath her dark ponytailed hair displayed a mix of moods ranging from a hangover's annoyance to an almost childish, unsettling zeal.

"Quit wastin' time with that bullshit news," the woman deeply growled. She lowered her voice almost as if in an attempt to completely erase every last possible vestige of femininity from herself. She thumbed at the door over her shoulder and shunted her head in a vicious jerk. "Move yer' ass Rock! We've got a job to do."

"C-coming Revy!" The young Japanese in businessman's attire, Rock—known in his past life as Rokuro Okajima—securely fastened his tie. Rock switched off the television, a momentary silence filling the room before the remote control rejoined its beer can comrades who greeted it with a celebratory clatter.

The bell over the door suffered another harsh blow as the door to the offices of the Lagoon Company Delivery Service slammed shut, its four members heading out for what was sure to be another…

… shall we say "interesting" delivery.