Crowley Hamondale adjusted himself in his seat by crossing his right leg over his left, then presumed to hold his glass by the bottom, which was filled with a clear, red liquid. He was silently enjoying his morning beside his dormant sister, Queen Inesa, but wasn't fond of the added attention. His lips touched the edge of the glass and he drank the liquid with such childish valor, satisfied by the wine's taste and icy substance. Afterwards, he gazed solemnly at the girl nearby the grand window in front of him, "Must you really be with my sister at all times?"

She fixed her black cap on her head with the poking flap and said, "That's what I was assigned to do. If you have a problem with it, speak to Cordova."

He moved his glass around in a circular motion, making the red liquid splash against the walls of the glass, "Ahh, Arbiter Cordova. Such an interesting man who speaks such vulgar ideals. He calls me a false human, which is insanely cruel."

"That's understandable," she replied. "You aren't real."

"Am I not standing before you?"

"Visually, yes."

"And if I were to harm you, would that clarify my realism?"

She twirled the strands of her blonde hair that snuck out the domain of her cap, "Hurting me will not clarify anything. I know the truth."

"Hmm, you individuals in Corruption are truly amusing speakers," Crowley smiled carelessly and ran his free hand through his snow white hair that danced in rejection to his formal appearance and swung over his ears and dropped between his sparkling silver eyes. "I'm unclear to what your true goal may be, but as long as you and your allies benefit me, we can coexist."

The girl crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Queen Inesa, who lay motionless on her royal bed while dressed in sleeping garments as her extremely long braided green hair was cast over her chest, "By benefitting you, you wanted us to help establish the Slavery Order over Orsha and put your sister into a coma so that she couldn't retaliate. That's pretty wicked."

"It's for the good of the kingdom," Crowley adjusted his floral blue tie and brushed his black blazer's shoulder with his pale hand. "My dear Inesa shouldn't have to witness this evil. I will take over and strengthen the kingdom in her stead. I know she wouldn't go down this route, so I will take it into my own hands as our late father did."

The girl's dull brown eyes searched his strikingly handsome features, "Unusual for the younger sibling to take the first step forward."

Crowley glanced over her clothes which consisted of an unbuttoned dark blazer, an unbuttoned white button down shirt which revealed her dark bra underneath, a dark tie that was loose around her neck and held an expanding, beaming star at the head, a dark skirt with a white belt, which was around her waist and finally dark leggings that was strapped up to her skirt and white boots. Her attire was certainly foreign to Crowley, which made him speculate on her origin, "The way you dress is odd. If anything, it's similar to the style of those in Fedimian."

"How do you fare this fine morning, Crowley Hamondale?"

The girl and Crowley directed their attention to Alfonse and Arbiter who stood by the door. Crowley got up out of his seat and opened his arms after a sweeping motion, "Ah, welcome, Arbiter Cordova! My morning has been well."

"Glad to hear it," Arbiter smiled faintly, then looked to the girl, "Star, has she made any changes?"

"None, sir," Star walked over to the edge of Inesa's bed. "She won't be waking up anytime soon."

Arbiter placed his folded hands behind his back, "Excellent. I would believe that everything is going according to your plan, Mr. Hamondale?"

"Certainly," he gave a small bow. "I cannot thank you and your subordinates enough. I've gained full control of the kingdom now that Inesa is out of commission for the time being. When she wakes, she'll witness our kingdom's greatness."

"I can't wait to witness it," Arbiter said with smiling eyes. "With time, the other kingdoms will bow to your newfound fortitude."

"Precisely," Crowley nodded curtly. "I'm assisting Klaipeda from their unfortunate disaster a month ago and earning the wares of the kingdom of brimming technology and growth, Fedimian…I will surely grow broader in strength and they won't realize it until I strike them down and make their lands my own."

Arbiter chuckled coolly, "And Corruption will support that destruction wholeheartedly."

"Get on your knees and clean it, wrench!"

The nobleman attacked his battered servant with the back of his hand and made her crash against the marble floor. She became dazed by the abrupt pain as he towered over her with a nasty, smug-like frown, for he was truly disgusted by her presence, "Such a pathetic slave."

He kicked her in the stomach and she cried out while trying to dig her broken nails into the floor to excuse the pain. She whimpered a little, but obeyed her superior and brought the thick white towel she held over the wine she had spilled on his shoes and on the floor. He watched her carefully as her head bobbed and weaved while she cleaned with such a mild dedication. Soon, she was finished and her dirty face gazed up at him, "I'm finished, Lord Brantil."

"Not quite," he said, and rudely spat at her face. "Clean yourself now, dog."

"Y-Yes, Lord Brantil," she shivered from the humiliation and stood from her crouching position.

She scampered off and exited his chambers immediately once she felt her heart crash against her chest and her mind loosen out of fear. Once she was out of his presence, she leaned her back against the wall beside his door and wiped away the spit on her cheek, feeling utterly revolted by the abrasive pig she called 'Lord Brantil'. She felt sapped of strength and fell to the floor with a soft thud as she held herself with her arms, conflicted by her current lifestyle as a slave and the future for Orsha. Weakly, she said to herself, "I'd rather be dead than serve to this humiliation."

She pushed aside the maroon curls of her shaggy blonde hair that fell past her feminine shoulders and touched the base of her silver earring that had a long white feather that rested on the skin between her neck and her right shoulder, "But…I cannot die so soon. It would be disrespectful to my parents who sacrificed themselves for me to live."

She balled her scarred hands that was inflicted with cuts and bruises over the air between her legs and examined her fility almond skin with a vague glimpse of anger present within her ambivalent eyes—one being a dull maroon while the other was a shining gold. She was a gem hidden deep inside the walls of conflict—unseen because of the grime that shadows her features and define her as an opposition of coy. Her name was Cheryl Velsulk.

"What are you doing there, slave?"

Cheryl stood in shock by the sudden appearance of the Orsha soldier who walked towards her, "U-Um…I was bringing wine to Lord Brantil."

"If you have no other business here, leave and return to your…quarters."

She politely bowed, "Y-Yes, sir. I will leave right away."

"Actually..."

"Yes?" she stared at him, noticing the smirk on his face.

"I will borrow you for a moment," he grabbed her. "You will please me for the night."

She seemed vexed by his words, but his smirk shifted to a wide grin and out of instinct, she forcibly pulled away, "U-Unhand me!"

He held her arm firmly and slammed her against the wall. Cheryl's eyes grew wide and she tried to squirm out of his grasp, but he held her down skillfully with both hands and his body. She was nearing the edge of breaking, "N-No, please…"

His delirious eyes searched over the foul rags she was dressed in and without hesitation, he slid his hand underneath the rags and searched aimlessly for warmth. She reeled back by turning her head away, but he suddenly hovered his face close to her neck and pursued an uncouth act by trailing his mouth up her neck and stopping near her chin. She was violated by his hands and mouth, and was ultimately powerless to the strength of a man. She shed a single tear and dug her chipped, grubby nails into her hands which made her palms bleed without her consent. She stood still and allowed the future to take her by a tide of misfortune and grief.

I hate my life.

"Ashes."

The young resistance leader took heed to his name being called and replied, "How did the mission go?"

The pair gave a small salute by placing their arm over their chest and gave a light bow; afterwards, the male of the pair spoke in their stead, "It was a success. We managed to free some of the slaves under Lord Nestea this morning. They are currently resting at Žemyna's Sanctum."

"Any trouble with the Enforcers? Nestea surely loves to call them on us," their leader asked quietly as the sound of crackling fire bounced off the walls of the wide room.

"We led them on a false path, sir."

"Good, good," Ashes nodded off unconsciously and stared at the fireplace as the lively flames reflected off his clear light brown eyes. "Buddhist, Pori, the recent change in the market of the Slavery Order is very foreboding. I believe we must be aware of our surroundings and most importantly…we should be aware of the Arena."

The woman beside the male, Pori, took a step forward on the red carpeted floor and said, "You are right, sir. The majority of slaves are being sent to the Arena and forced to fight for their lives. Innocent lives are being lost as we speak. It's…troubling that our kind has to fight with monsters in order to gain place."

"Yes," her companion, Buddhist, added. "As of now, there are less farming and household slaves, but more warrior slaves that train in the Arena. If I were a betting man, I'd say that there is a reason behind this shift…one that concerns Crowley Hamondale."

"That man is absurd," Ashes clenched the arms of his plushy chair. "I loathe him."

"We all do, sir," Pori stared at the space between her booted feet while her sapphire hair hung over her face, tickling her olive skin with its slithering waves. "I'm beginning to see more and more of the darkness that has consumed Orsha. I do not fear for our lives. I fear for those who cannot fight."

Ashes raised his burning amber eyes to stare at her sorrowful teal irises that hesitated to look him in the eye, for she didn't want to show any hints of weakness, "It's alright to be brave, Pori, but don't mistake your bravery for idiotic risks. That is the best answer I can give to calm your nerves. In truth, we are powerless beings, no matter if we are revelators sent by the gods and goddesses who rule from above. We do not run this kingdom…we are considered outcasts, never to return."

Buddhist engaged the conversation after brushing aside the wavy bane of his olive colored hair that contrasts with his mossy green eyes, "Ashes, I don't believe we are powerless. If we are restricted from entering Orsha's walls and branded as bounties, there has to be a reason for it. Crowley Hamondale is up to something and it isn't pleasant! He doesn't want us messing up his plan!"

"I agree with you," Ashes stood up from his chair and allowed the outrageously long piece of his crimson hair coming out the back of his head, which was placed into a ponytail, nearly sway against the ground. "However, we can't strike as we are. Our resistance group, Singularity, can only go so far with small members. I've called for help. They are good allies in combat and in teamwork. I'd like you two and the others to greet them as your own."

Pori stared up at him, "Friends? Do you mean revelators?"

Ashes gently brushed away his bane that nearly dropped over his right eye and smiled at the flames that tore at the skin of the wood placed in the fireplace, "Yes. I've called on the help of the famed Strategist, The Great Monk, and Holy Saint. Three well-known and top-tier revelators who can compel the kingdom back into the days of when Queen Inesa wasn't in her coma. Our time is coming, and fast, my friends. Prepare to go to war with Crowley Hamondale!"