Author's Notes: I really hope you enjoyed your holiday because I certainly did. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I immediately fell ill after the celebration went by. That's all in the past now, however, so now do enjoy this chonky chapter.

Right then, cheers!


Chapter XII
It's A Long Way To Gloriana

Shannon's Office
25th of April
12:04 PM

A mug of lukewarm goodie in hand, Clare entered the room unceremoniously, not bothering with knocking, and then using her boot to close the door behind her.

"I brought you something to drink."

"Yay!" Shannon cheered, a childlike glee on her face as she grabbed a hold of the mug and began smacking her lips in excitement. "So what do you think of them so far?" she asked, barely able to finish the question before she brought the mug up to her face and chugged it down like a champ.

"Their intentions seem as genuine as we expected," Clare replied, taking the same seat Assam had sat on, averting her eyes from the carrot top and choosing instead to scan Shannon's unusually organised desk, finding a stack of papers being held in place by the wee lass' paperweight. "What's that?" she pointed out.

"A treaty of sorts," Shannon replied, finally breaking contact with the mug, with some of the whipped cream sticking to her nose; a perfect accompaniment to her milk moustache.

"Did you even read this?" Clare said as she picked up the treaty and scanned through it, using all of her willpower to avoid staring at the comical sight in front of her.

"Nope! It's too long and besides, I have you!" Shannon grinned toothily, pushing away the mug that once held the rapidly defeated beverage.

"Haha, very funny," Clare dryly replied, turning her full attention to the facsimile.

The cream-coloured contract was elegantly inscribed with black ink, a process something no printer or typewriter could possibly accomplish, with the seal of Saint Gloriana and Shamrock opulently illustrated at the top of the paper.

The meat of the treaty was also lavishly worded, with plenty of highfalutin words that Clare didn't know so, other than some key sentences, she chose not to read the charter in all its length.

Finally, she brought her eyes to the bottom of the sheet, where two green scribbles were located, one of them looking real professional and the other like it would be at home at a kindergarten.

Of course… Those two didn't even use their real names… Would this piece of paper even hold up in the court of law?

"The only thing I picked up was a Commonwealth," Shannon said, yanking her back to the seamstress' office.

That was one of the complex words Clare had trouble comprehending, admittedly her English skills were of no great class, leaving her dumbfounded. "What's that?"

"Who knows, but it does sound fancy, doesn't it?" Shannon shrugged, spinning like a top on her chair once more.

The door to the office was thrown open and Clare jumped up from her seat to see who had to make such a loud entrance. Under the doorframe, Erne with her uniform in shambles stood; being only saved from the embarrassment of nakedness by a certain red coat. This, along with the nasty snarl on her face, made her look like a downright nutter that wouldn't have looked out of place at a mental health facility.

"My, you look like you've been run over by the monorail!" Shannon exclaimed, bringing out a tape measure from her pocket and wrapping it around the redhead, who walked inside as she scrutinised the room around her.

Shannon, who was now in full seamstress mode, became immersed in measuring out a new Senshadou uniform for Erne, muttering out measurements as she went, which was audible enough for Clare to hear.

"Say…. (Bust - 84) what do you…. (Waist - 52) think of…. (Hips - 80) our guests?"

"I believe their visit is most suspicious and I still think we shouldn't 'ave allowed them to set foot on the Unicorn," Erne replied, not averting her eyes from Clare, who had just made her way to close the door left ajar by her fellow redhead.

Shannon stepped away from the red nut and went back to her desk, jotting down figures on a piece of paper she had pulled from somewhere else. "Clare, can you fetch me my sewing chest?" she directed towards her.

Hidden behind a half-dressed mannequin, on top of an ironing board, was a small wooden box, lovingly padlocked with a tiny heart-shaped lock. With a grunt, Clare lifted the chest with ease thanks to her training and deposited it on the desk.

When the two of them started the team, Shannon worked day and night crafting their uniforms from scratch, while Clare handled the nasty paperwork needed in starting a new club. It was here that their friendship was tested when trials and tribulations emerged as they soon found out they were woefully unprepared for the challenge they had accepted.

Shannon pulled out a key fastened to a necklace from inside her uniform and used it to unlock the box. Inside, was a treasure trove of needlework, with a variety of buttons and trimmings located within; its growth matching that of the team's evolution. This also meant, the seamstress had explained to her, that their clothes could be repaired or in this case, replaced, with ease. Shannon chose to ignore these articles and instead opened one of the smaller drawers, where sheets of paper were placed and she took one out in particular.

"Based on your measurements, your bust has grown by a bit, nothing like my Mark Ds though," Shannon laughed. "I see you've lost one of your badges as well again," she carried on, referring to the lapel shamrock pin on Erne's collar, barely hanging on by a thread, just like the rest of her uniform.

Clare didn't seem to care as she continued her staring contest with Erne while their commander went back to the fray, now taking measurements for the sleeves.

"My dear, their visit is of great luck to us! If we keep this up maybe they'll give us a Matilda or a Churchill. Maybe even a Comet!" Shannon carried on, as she wrapped her measuring tape around Erne's wrist.

"Well, knock me out with a feather. If they are as generous as you say they are, then maybe they'll 'and us the key to their school," Erne replied, in an obviously sarcastic tone, mocking Shannon. "Don't you understand? This is all too good to be true! As a stuck up Gloriana girl would say, beware of the British bearing gifts."

"Bullshit, you just made that up! And besides, you do realise we're all still Japanese?" Clare replied, staying silent no more as her anger started to slowly build up due to the foolishness that was coming out of the freckleface's mouth.

Erne finally broke eye contact and shifted tactics, looking over at the now vacant desk. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at the contract still on the table beside the sewing chest.

"It's the treaty between our two schools," Shannon replied, signalling for Erne to stretch out her arms.

"Ah, yes, the piece of paper that will sign away our sovereignty," the freckled girl retorted, watching as the little sewing bee pressed the tape across her arm length.

"Don't be ridiculous," Clare curtly replied, having none of Erne's euphemisms.

"You give them an inch of Shamrock and they'll take a mile."

"St Gloriana can provide us with financial support and equipment. We need them," Shannon replied, now bent over and running the tape measure down Erne's thigh.

"And once we don't?"

"We'll burn that bridge when we get there," the carrot top replied, standing up and strolling back to the desk to take note of Erne's proportions.

Clare rolled her eyes "You mean we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Right," Shannon smiled, "that's why you're my bosom buddy," she cackled with laughter, managing to make another breast joke.

"I still don't trust them."

"I mean," Shannon started, walking back to inspect the red coat that had been covering Erne all this time. "Just look at the red coat you're wearing. It's made out of high-quality doeskin and lined with real silk," she went on, using her expertise in the art of the needle to geek about.

"See?! Doeskin! Those witches are skinning Bambi to make their coats!" Erne bellowed out in an accusatory tone.

"Don't be an idiot! Doeskin's a type of fine wool! Compare that to the poly-plastic material I'm working with for our uniforms and you'll know why we require their assistance," Shannon explained, turning her attention to her sewing chest. "Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if their buttons are made out of solid gold. Anyways, that's it done. Is there anything else you need to discuss?"

"I need you to return Roselle's coat," Clare interjected, her hand outstretched for the red coat that covered Erne's tattered rags.

"Oh, so that's 'er name? You seem to be quite comfortable fraternising with the enemy," Erne replied, as she carelessly removed the red coat and tossed it towards her.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh please, don't deny it. I know you were too busy flirting with her like the lousy lesbo you are!" the redhead answered back.

Clare's hand moved faster than anyone could have prevented, striking a hit on the arrogant mocking cheeks of Erne.

"Don't you dare bring up my sexuality ever again!" she shouted, her anger being drawn from an unknown source within her, the sting of the pain in her palm becoming more apparent.

For a brief moment, Erne was speechless before finally comprehending what had just happened and was looking to strike back before a 16-inch knitting needle came flying by, passing by a cat's whisker between the two of them and impaling the wall behind them.

"That's enough, both of you!" Shannon snarled in a rare moment of fury, taking Clare by surprise as she had never seen her friend in such an enraged state before.

Erne, still holding her swollen red check, regained her composure and slowly made her way to the door in a bit of a trance, before stopping short of the exit. "Say, have you seen my sister?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"Annalee's touring them around the carrier," the seamstress replied, settling down on her office chair once more.

"I swear to the Salmon, Shannon! If they lay a 'and on my sister, I'll be 'olding you responsible!" Erne replied before promptly storming off, banging the door as she left.

"Clare, can you make the final preparations for the party? I just need… a moment," Shannon sighed, her usual cheeriness sapped out of her as she slumped hard on her seat.

"Don't worry, Iona, I can handle it…. And hey, you made the right choice, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Kira! I thought we agreed to call me Shannon!" the garment goddess exclaimed, a wide grin replacing her weary frown.

"Fine…" Clare rolled her eyes, " I can handle it, Shannon."


Unbeknownst to the duo, a few miles away from the room and slowly going farther and farther, a certain blonde was listening in on their conversation. The bug Assam had planted in the room was just in the right spot for her to be able to hear every last bit of the conversation, including the spicy confrontation between what she believed were Iona's two sub-lieutenants.

A tugging at her sleeves brought her out of her espionage mode as she saw a sobering Rosehip now starting to regain her cheeriness. "Yeah?" she said, removing the earphones she had brought along, whose excellent noise-cancelling capabilities concealed the noise of the railway they were travelling on.

'Monorail,' she corrected herself, putting the earphones back into her coat phones before turning her full attention to Rosehip.

The monorail, which to no one's surprise was painted in a shade of green with patches of red thrown in for contrast, crawled at a Churchill's pace, which was to say quite abysmal. The lumbering iron beast made its way across the lush green fields of Shamrock, somehow blending in and not ruining the scenic view. Its oddly raised track, which looked more like a long fence than railroad tracks, only led to more peculiarities about their mode of transport.

Even the carriage they were sitting in was an unusual affair, with the seats facing sideways so the occupants could look out over the splendid scenery, rather than facing forward and backward as in a conventional train. There was also, so they learned, a need for the carriages to be perfectly balanced, meaning equal numbers of passengers had to sit on either side. That was why Rosemary and Rosemallow, along with their guide, Annalee, the fiddler from last night, transferred to the other side, giving Assam some much needed alone time with Rosehip, or nearly alone, as the only other occupant was an elderly lady sat at the other end of the compartment.

"Senpai… What are you listening to?" her pink-haired kouhai inquiried.

"Nothing. Just wanted to check up on some brand new song I found," Assam replied, breathing in the beautiful sight before her.

Rosehip smiled weakly at her, all of her aspirations and fears were manifested perfectly on her bright orange eyes, leaving Assam to guess which was which. It was a rare respite for them to be all alone and she wanted nothing more than to caress her kouhai's red hair, which flowed gracefully behind her in the wind.

Deep down, however, Assam knew she shouldn't be slacking, especially with the startling news about the attempts on their lives. As such, it was upon herself to remain vigilant or else she would lose everything she held dear.

"I just wanna say sorry…" the redhead said, finally gathering up the courage to say what she wanted.

"What for?" Assam playfully replied, knowing fully well what Rosehip was apologising for.

"You know," her eyes darted up, "for forcing you to take my place," Rosehip said, diverting her eyes when Assam met hers for a challenge.

"Awww, that's just fine," she replied, putting her hand on the speedster's thigh, doing her best to soothe her kouhai's feelings.

Rosehip looked at her hand and began breathing heavily. "There's something else…" she let out in between her puffs for air. "Something I wanted to confess."

"What is it about?" Assam asked, finding herself breathing in sharply. This could be it! Her pink-haired kouhai's proclamation of love. Assam had waited a long time for this and she wanted to treasure it forever till the end of time.

"I have a secret…." Rosehip gingerly confessed.

Oh how she wished she had a recording device at the moment

"Yes, carry on…" she replied, feeling as if she could explode any moment now.

"I…." Rosehip hesitated, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, which Assam made a move to wipe.

"Yo!" someone shouted and Assam jumped a few good inches from where she was seated, essentially removing her hands from Rosehip. "How are you two lovebirds doing?" the new arrival, who turned out to be Roselle, asked, a knowing grin on her face while Rosehip adopted a pout for hers.

"We're currently at a station called Risselton and a bunch of people boarded, so we're forced to move," Rosemallow spoke, making her presence known as she popped her head into the carriage, which Assam only now realised was stationary and alongside a train terminal. "Annylee said we should be getting off at the next stop."

Annalee was the guide assigned to them by Shannon. The redhead had approached Assam the moment she got out of the office, the Rosebush already in tow and talked of a grand tour of sorts. The fiddler reminded her very much of the long sobs of violins of autumn; the orange hair that was the same shade as the invigorating sight of the fallen leaves of the season; she was the embodiment of the carefree spirit that overtook everyone as the fringes of the wintertime approaches.

The lass carried with her a black violin case, always on her lap like it was her very own firstborn; always keeping it in sight, never out of mind. She protected it with her life, even slapping Roselle's hand without hesitation when the deviant tried touching the case without permission.

"My hand still hurts from that..." Rosehip's driver grumbled, shaking her still reddened hand. "Say, Mallow, you met her as well last night, what do you think about her?" she raised the question, planting herself unceremoniously between Assam and Rosehip.

"Why? Got your eyes on another woman? Forget about it, skirt chaser, I'm trying to take a nap here." Rosemallow settled herself on the other side of Rosehip, wearing a sleeping mask she had taken out from her handbag and dozing off in no time.

"What a meanie..." Roselle sulked.

Assam watched the free spirit looking around the carriage, on the hunt for something to occupy her time as the monorail started and 'sped' off from the station.

"Aha!" the brunette exclaimed, having a eureka moment, as she stood up from her seat and approached the senescent woman across the carriage.

"What is that wanker up to now?" she heard Rosehip gape, staring at her driver who had struck a conversation with the possible septuagenarian, all the while gesturing to the bag of straw on the elderly's foot.

"Sankyu!" Roselle audibly exclaimed, before diving her hands into the bag and coming back with a fistful of straws.

"Let's see if she likes hay up her hair," Roselle groused, returning to her seat and depositing the small mound of hay on her lap.

"What are you up to now, ya muppet?" Rosehip prattled, staring at the stacks of straw now resting on her driver's legs.

Instead of replying, Roselle began picking up individual pieces of hay and weaved them together into what Assam assumed was a bowl-like object.

"Ohhhh, a bird's nest?" Rosehip guessed and Assam knew even without looking at her that her kouhai's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Aye," Roselle nodded, "Help me out here, would you?" her driver offered, giving her some straw to work with.

Rosehip instantly jumped upon the request and the two began working on another one of their hare-brained schemes, functioning like a well-oiled machine without the need to communicate, with Rosehip spinning straw slivers along the incomplete walls of the nest, forming the sides in no time.

The two troublemakers admired their handiwork and Rosehip, despite being drunk and helplessly clueless a while ago, was now back to her energetic self again as she gently placed the nest on top of Rosemallow's head, as if she was replacing a golden idol with a bag of sand.

Talk about waking up with a bird's nest

With their mission accomplished, the duo began to talk shop, talking about everything from trying to figure out the difference between a Full Irish and Full English (black and white pudding being a key component rather than side options) to a blow-by-blow retelling of the match, including some exorbitant hand gestures to aid Roselle's storytelling.

Assam only had half an ear in the conversation, partly just in case she was ever mentioned but mostly to gather more useful information on the two. While her ears were busy gathering intel, her eyes, on the other hand, were soaking in the landscape. She watched as students frolicked on the vast grasslands and neatly trimmed hills, running about with colourful kites in tow or sitting on picnic blankets, lunch hampers open and having a nice day outdoors.

They passed Glendalough once more and Assam was still left in awe of the place. It was hard to imagine that not only did this beauty come out of a colossal structural failure but it had once belonged to Gloriana mere decades ago. Thoughts like these kept her mind racing at times, reminding her that she was a tiny speck on a ginormous ship, which itself was a small footprint of humanity in the vastness of the ocean.

Assam was so deep in thought that she barely realised that the train was slowly screeching to a halt once again. Poking her head out of the window, she saw that in front of the locomotive was a tall wooden structure that reminded her of Tower Bridge back home, before recalling that it was another one of the monorail's peculiarities. Due to the raised nature of the tracks, crossings were a tad bit difficult to manage compared to conventional railways and so a drawbridge was needed to help anyone bridge the gap, forcing the train to stop.

She was able to catch a glimpse of a girl her age, wearing overalls and holding a wooden crook, as she guided a massive herd of sheep across the tracks, making sure no sheep took a nosedive into the rail line.

'That's something you wouldn't ever see on the Ark Royal.' she thought.

The spectacle continued on for a few minutes as the last of the woolly critters made their way onto the vast grazing grounds that awaited them. With the animal crossing finished, the drawbridge was pulled up and the monorail was able to go about its merry way once again; engines puffing to make up for the lost time.

Assam returned back to her seat and quickly noticed the silence of the lambs she was supposed to be watching over and looked over at the duo and why they decided to stop conversating. The two were huddled with Rosemallow, who was still snoozing, being gently rocked by the constant movement of the barely balanced train. She followed the gaze of the two speedsters and lo and behold, in the stillness of the train earlier, one bird had taken advantage of the invitation and decided to roost on the duo's nest, all the while on top of the sleeping loader.

"Elle, get the camera!" Rosehip said, fixated on the feathery fellow that was now happily moving around its new home.

Assam was no Tolka but she could see that the bird in question was of a shade that reminded her of lemons. The bird's bright yellow breast was broken up, not only by a black band down the middle but also by the similarly black-coloured head which in turn was contrasted with white in a few spots.

With these descriptions in mind, she discreetly bought out her phone from her pocket and began making a quick search online, using what little precious mobile data she had gotten for the trip. Her query delivered instantly as the results started popping up; the bird in question was what was called a great tit.

"What bird do you think it is?" Roselle asked, using her own phone to snap pictures of the bird, moving around to try out different angles in the hopes of finding the right one for the perfect shot.

"If I would make a guess, I believe it's a great tit," Assam replied, correctly guessing that one of the curious two would ask that very question and her query paid off as she now hid her phone within the folds of her skirt, lest they called her out for that.

"Doesn't seem that busty to me," Roselle snarkily replied, a toothy grin on her face as she did her best to stop herself from laughing at her own joke.

"Oh, do shut up," Rosehip fired back, obviously glancing at her as she reeled in her friend from her unique brand of humour.

Sooner rather than later, their monorail pulled into another station, which Assam remembered was their stop and so she made a move for the door. Rosehip and Roselle, however, helped to nudge Rosemallow awake, but not before regrettably shooing away the bird and removing the crown of straw from the top of her head. With the two of them dragging their still groggy crewmate out of her seat, their entourage emerged onto the platform, with their place immediately replaced by people who had been waiting for a ride.

"Slow down, you bird brains! No need to ru- What? What's so funny about bird brains?" Rosemallow lashed out, grumpy about being woken up so unceremoniously.

You two would be in a heap of trouble if she learned about that fact, Assam thought to herself as she found herself subconsciously touching her own hair.

She soon turned her attention to their redheaded guide who crossed the small bridge, which was needed to connect the two sides of the carriage, and waved them towards her, still carrying her violin case with her other hand.

"Good thing the delinquents didn't rub soap on the tracks again or else we would have to be the ones pushing the train," Annalee said to them when they got within earshot.

"Sorry?" Assam asked, both in amusement and surprise, not all too familiar with such heinous pranks in St. Gloriana, where the rules were stricter and despite the example set by the devious duo with her, students were much more well behaved.

"There is a slight uphill section on the line," the fiddler began, sliding her free arm in front of her as if to demonstrate. "that we passed through that chavs love to mess with by applying soap on top of the rails, which results in the monorail not getting enough friction to make the climb.

Assam nodded but noticed the trio focused on another thing entirely, specifically something or someone behind Annalee and she had to see for herself what the fuss was all about. Walking up to them, was a brown-haired girl about as tall as Rosehip, dressed in half-removed green overalls, with a sleeveless white shirt for a top, all blacked by sweat and soot, toting a grimy sack that could only contain coal.

"Who are you looking at- Ah, Dee!" Annalee inquired, before rushing over to greet what Assam presumed to be a collier, locking her in an embrace.

"Annawee! You shouldn't have, you know I'm all grimy…" the brunette extracted herself from the hug before shifting her focus on the four of them. "Are these well-dressed ladies our guests of honour?

"Yep! Shannon said I should distract them- I mean take them on a tour! So I brought them here to the Market," Annalee backtracked, catching herself before it was too late. "Guys, this is Dee; you might have seen her earlier. She's part of our Senshadou team as well."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. 'Afraid I couldn't shake your hands, since mine are dirty. How 'bout we fistbump instead?" Dee grinned, outstretching her arm showing off her closed fist, heaving the bag of coal over her shoulder.

Roselle took her up on the offer immediately, bumping fists with her with no hesitation. Rosehip followed soon, then Rosemallow gingerly afterwards, before finally, it was Assam's turn. She looked at the blackened hands of the coal child and gently pushed her fist to make contact with Dee's. It took all her willpower to simply not retrieve her handkerchief from her pocket and wipe away the soot.

"As you can see, she also helps out with the monorail," Annalee continued, gesturing from the sooty girl to the steel snake right next to them.

Dee lifted a part of her grubby overalls and revealed an equally blacked badge that had what Assam could barely make out to be the bow of the monorail they just rode, marked with a shamrock front and centre. "Volunteer for the Clover Monorail Company and it's time for my shift!" she explained, as she started walking towards the head of the snake.

"Wait, so you've been with us the entire time?" Roselle asked, walking alongside the train helper, forcing the rest of her entourage to join them as well.

"Aye! I was napping on the coal cart up rear, it was quite comfy, you should give it a try," Dee answered back, looking like a shortstack Santa; a Santa that only gave out coal, naughty or nice.

"I'd rather not, thank you very much," Rosemallow sternly replied.

The locomotive driver turned around and pointed her grimy fingers at Rosehip and announced, "You! Wanna blow the whistle?"

"Can I?!" Rosehip jumped up in surprise, with an expression that would make it seem Christmas had come early for the redhead.

"Absolutely!"

Rosehip hopped onto the open driver's cab and grabbed ahold of the lever just below a glass pane that enabled the controller to see ahead of the track and pulled it down hard, causing a great release of steam that resulted in a loud shrill whistle, forcing most of the people to cover their ears.

"Way to go, buddy!" the engine driver cheered, giving Rosehip a pat on the back as she helped her out of the carriage. Turning towards their tour guide, Dee decided to pop a question, "Say, Annawee, are the preparations for later re-"

Whatever she was about to say, it was promptly cut out as Annalee made a mad dash towards the train volunteer and covered her mouth. "Shaddap! Anyways, I think you should be going now! Bye-bye, see you later!" the violinist hastily announced, shoving the brunette towards her train.

Clearly getting the message, Dee made her goodbyes, entering the locomotive cab and began messing with levers and switches that caused white smoke to bellow from the monorail's twin smokestacks. Assam had a good look at the engine before it set off once more. A single massive headlight was in front of the train, mounted on a square block. On both sides of the raised rail, two small steam engines complete with their own chimneys gave power to the monorail.

Dee waved at them from her cabin as the wobbly monorail pulled out of the station, puffing smoke as it carried on with its journey across the carrier. She had her doubts when she first stepped into the carriage, thinking the contraption would tip over, but looking back, it had been a pleasantly smooth trip all around.

With their old steed slowly steaming out of sight, Assam turned her attention to the train station, which was a brick-walled building that could have passed off as a countryside bungalow. Lined with flower pots filled with clovers, the station gave off a pleasant balance between progress and preservation, reinforced further by the green-painted ironworks all over the place.

The five of them began walking the length of the station and Assam let her eyes wander. Posted on the building's walls were signs advertising various products and services, and she took the time to scan each of the posters in turn.

The Tea Emporium…. Yea, I need to buy some souvenirs for Darjeeling and Pekoe.

Shamrock Dew… Quite bold of them to publicly advertise alcoholic drinks on a schoolship with underage girls.

A museum of sorts? Should be an interesting place to visit. Perhaps I should ask our entourage to take a detour?

"Well, welcome to Market Station!" Annalee said, turning around towards them as she opened the door.

With all the trappings of a train station, it came as no surprise to her that the inside was like that…. of a train station; timetables, ticket vendor and even a food stand.

Without much fanfare, they had their tickets restamped before they continued on their journey. Just before the door towards what she assumed was the carrier proper, there was a newspaper stand that had almost been cleaned out of its wares.

Normally, she wouldn't have paid it much attention, if not for the fact that she found her very own face staring at her. Looking around to see if anyone else noticed, she saw that the dynamic duo were distracted by Annalee, who was busy regaling them with tales of adventure, while looking at one of the station's other exhibits, with Rosemallow standing guard just a few steps behind.

Her curiosity overtook her and she approached the stand, where she found the paper proudly proclaiming:

Saint Gloriana visitors arrived last night.

Assam grabbed a hold of the single remaining paper and scanned it with scrutiny. It appeared to be a copy of the Shamrock Chronicle, which she assumed to be the school's local newspaper and indeed the photograph on the front was of her, with the caption;

Leading the Glorian entourage was none other than Assam, who is seen here before the semi-finals of the 63rd National High School Senshadou Tournament.

Would you look at that! Finally got myself on the front page!

Bringing out her wallet, she paid the appropriate amount in yen in order to buy the newspaper from the storekeeper, who was more than happy to make a transaction. In her research, Assam had found that like most minor schools, Shamrock's onboard economy was too weak to support its own currency system and thus, still used the Japanese yen.

Assam folded up the newspaper and rejoined Rosemallow in watching the speedsters, who were gawking at a display of a massive map of the monorail system that looped around the Unicorn.

I can't wait to see Rosehip's reaction to this!


On the other side of the carrier, Erne threw down the same issue of the Shamrock Chronicle onto a wooden table. The paper was bought as part of their daily morning briefings and she wanted nothing more than to shred it to pieces and cast it into the abyss. The damn blonde girl gazed smugly at her with her snobbish look, which after Erne's defeat at the hands of that privileged prick, made this all the more insulting. She broke her unofficial staring contest, ignoring those vapid violet eyes and chose instead to look around the dimly lit room she was in.

After leaving Shannon's office, she first had a change of uniform from her lockers before she hitched a ride on the monorail, but instead of going back to the campus and the city centre, she went deeper into the industrial area, eventually reaching the decrepit part of town, with its old run-down industrial facilities and boarded-up windows that provided anonymity to those who hid inside; the perfect place for a bunch of would-be assassins to use as a base of operations.

They called themselves the Dullahan; mythical headless horsemen of Ireland, galloping out of the night to forewarn the death of someone. It was the perfect name for the group of young girls who were willing to face certain punishment in order to fight for what they believed in; freedom. The hive of scum and villainy that called itself Gloriana had made its move to interfere with Shamrock's sovereignty before, but now the beast had reared its ugly head once more and it was up to them to put a stop to it.

For that, she thought, they needed the proper tools.

At the back of the room, hidden behind a crate of rotten potatoes, was a black equipment case. She didn't know where the "tools" came from, but she knew they had been smuggled on board the Unicorn inside the hidden compartment of a lorry usually reserved for alcoholic beverages. She had come across her contact mere hours after she read up on the school paper about the upcoming visit of those pretentious twats. As if by divine intervention, an unknown phone number rang her up and asked her if she wanted to drive back these would-be invaders back where they came from with their tails tucked between their legs.

She, of course, said yes and at that very moment, her newfound friend told her to await a special package, free of charge and have it be considered her birthday present for her. And just last night, after the night's celebration, she and her co-conspirators retrieved the case from the lockup and brought it here, just in time for the visitors from Saint Gloriana.

Saint Gloriana….

It was with great irony, Erne mused, that those who painted themselves as most holy and venerable were the ones who hid the darkest secrets as they merely clothed their naked villainy with old odd ends stolen forth from holy writ so as to seem a saint when they mostly played the villain.

She took a deep breath as she steeled herself for the stench of putrid vegetables, pushing aside the crateful of week-old tubers as the case emerged from its concealment. Wearing old cloth gloves set aside for this purpose, Erne put in the correct combination and out came the surprise.

Lined with a layer of foam, were their weapons, much to her initial surprise, all looking menacing and dangerous, and ready to fire a shot in anger. Picking up the rifle with a wooden finish, she could feel the roughness of it even through her gloved hand, the stiff metal bolt on top of it and the sophisticated-looking scope fitted to it. She hadn't had time to examine it at great lengths yet but Erne intended to know everything there was to know about it after today's party.

"Playing with the toys already, are we, Erina?" a voice from the dark said, causing Erne to panic and drop the weapon altogether.

The rifle fell with a clank as it hit the hard weathered stone floor of the building. She quickly picked it up and replaced it in the case, lest it got broken even before it got a chance to be used.

"Who's there?" Erne asked, picking up instead one of the smaller pistols, which she was more confident in using than the rifle and pointing it at the source of the voice.

"Relax, I'm just a passing tap dancer," the figure replied as it emerged from the shadows, revealing a girl gingerly leaning on a cane and walking about with one leg wrapped in a cast.

"Ah, Fumino," Erne breathed a sigh of relief, lowering her weapon before raising it up once again. "What was that stunt all about?! Why did you 'ave to call up everyone?" she bellowed out in anger, embarrassed to be humiliated in front of the crowd.

"It would have been nice to show to those tea addicts that Shamrock knows how to fight, especially in front of everyone," Finn explained, finding herself a seat on an upturned crate and stretching out her leg. "Shame we only humiliated ourselves, or well you two," she snickered.

"Knock it off, or I'll blow your enormous 'ead off," Erne responded, putting the weapons back in place just as it was before she messed with them. She then locked up the case, covering it up with the crateful of potatoes and threw the cloth gloves over the rotting mess.

The leader of the Dance Club gave her a smug grin and answered back, "Oh yea, sure and then you'll surely be able to lead this ragtag bunch to success. How did the pen-giving go?"

Erne turned her back towards her long-time friend and went for the bottle of whisky she had brought with her own allowance, intending to pour herself a glass. "Bloody cripple didn't even fuckin' arm it. I told you we shouldn't 'ave brought that idiot into the fold."

Finn snapped her fingers and two thuggish looking girls materialised out of the dark, going for the decanter and pouring two glasses, carrying out whatever task Finn gave them like servantile dogs, which apparently included partaking in an assassination plot.

Taking a seat on a wooden chair, Erne carefully watched the tall thin blonde walk over to hand her her drink, glancing at the black eyepatch she had over her left eye.

Great, exactly what we needed, more disabled people!

"I must say, Fumio, you've gathered quite the loyal following over the years," she offhandedly said, taking a sip at the lukewarm whisky she had just been served.

"That's what you get with leading my dear Erina. You should try it sometimes, you've been led by that leprechaun for too long," Finn replied, swirling the contents of her glass, playing around with her drink first just like she would any person she wanted to entrap.

"No, Shannon's alright, she's just too blinded by the gifts given by those sly dogs from Gloriana," Erne retorted, parrying the insult hurled at her commander before going down hard on her point. "It is up to us to stop them and lead 'er back to the path."

Finn seemed to have no interest in pursuing the topic of Shannon and instead tacitly changed the subject, "Where were we? Ah, yes, our one-legged pirate. We need her, remember? We can use her injury as a justification that people could not only understand but actually sympathise with."

Erne was about to reply when another one of the jet-black haired girl's lackeys arrived at Finn's side; this time a small tanned girl with a mop of light brown hair, and whispered something into the wannabe tyrant's ear, who only nodded along.

Her friend stared at her with her goading teal eyes before declaring, "Now, why don't we step outside for a bit? And bring two of those pistols from the case. Don't worry about your glass, Fane has been kind enough to offer to carry our glasses for us."

The pair walked out into the overgrown courtyard of the building, followed closely by the tanned brunette behind them. On top of a disused moss-filled fountain a few yards away, Erne spied a sack of potatoes with the front page of the Chronicle taped to it, the hint of purple still penetrating despite the distance.

"I know you're extremely proud of your whisky, so I had one of my attendants make some arrangements," Finn explained, her hand outstretched for her firearm, which she promptly gave. "Whoever puts a bullet into that limey's face first wins."

"You do realise both of us 'ave no idea 'ow to use these?" Erne replied as she tinkered with her own pistol, checking to see if it was loaded.

"How hard can it be? You just pull the trigger- Here, I'll even go first." Finn aimed her pistol using only a single hand and immediately pulled the trigger, striking the fountain itself, chipping some of the marble from its basin. "Your turn."

Erne gripped the pistol with both of her hands and placed the sack in her sights. The thing felt foreign to her touch, its cold gunmetal pressing against her skin. She breathed in a wave of air before pulling back the trigger, feeling the kick of the gun as the bullet left the chamber and embedded itself into the massive forehead of the photo of her target.

"See? You're a bloody natural!" Finn cheered, patting her on the back. "I think a toast is in order. Fane!" she said while clapping her hands for the tray.

"What shall we toast to?" Erne asked.

"Tiocfaidh ár lá?" Her fellow conspirator proposed as she gave her her shot of whiskey.

"Tiocfaidh ár lá!" The two of them toasted as they hoped for their day to come, clinking their glasses before drinking up.


Author's Notes: The plot chickens... Chiki-ko-ko-ko hehehe

I do apologise for the delay on this one, due to being sick and all that jazz. Special thanks once again to Sharky for all the help with this chapter, especially providing Erne's three sizes, which is quite important to the story *wink wink* and to Rihno, who went through it like a pack of hungry wolves in a sheep enclosure in an effort to make it all the more readable.

If you aren't fav and following yet, please do so and leave a comment as well. Rather stupid not to, amirite?

Oh, that reminds me, no updates for February folks, I'm currently participating in a special event for Valentine's Day and that would take up most of the time that I would have spent here.

Anywho, that would be all, till next time, cheerio!