The Warmest of Welcomes
“It’s time, ma’am.”
Farron stood. Today, she had exchanged her dresses for a tight-fitting uniform. It clung to her in a dark heavy fabric with the Hellian insignia stitched to the arms. The boots were perfect - even if they did weigh 5 kilograms each. The steel plating and thick leather ankle guards gave her little in the way of movement, and lacing the damn things was an art form. Taking a step, she huffed. Everything was stiff and crisply ironed. It didn’t suit her.
“Ok, let’s go.” She nodded.
They took off down the long corridor. Nodding to the staff as she passed, she noticed their eyes were sharply avoiding hers. Of course, she was wearing the uniform of the people who hurt them. She wasn’t the Princess now. A pit opened in her stomach. Regret? Guilt? Her steel feet seemed louder as the men and women fell silent to let her pass. This is what made Satans feel powerful. It made her feel small. Farron tried a smile. The woman took an odd stance, between a bow and a cower. It was as though they had forgotten her. The uniform had erased her. She worked to silence the doubts in her mind as the guard step saluted and waved her down the stairs.
She wanted this… and yet as she descended the vast stairs, her footsteps slowed. All her life she had been prepared for nothing more than diplomacy. She was good enough at languages and achieved good enough grades. As a queen should, she learnt Provincial history. As a queen ought to, she knew how to prepare the Hellian tea ceremony for her betrothed - like that meant anything. She was compliant enough. However, she wasn’t allowed under any circumstance to train her psycore.
Her Dad used to say only her brother got the gift and to just forget about it. She was around 7 when she first thought she was being poisoned. She started making her own lunches as part of her little investigation. It took a few weeks, but she soon found herself able to hop through the air or knock things over from across the room. Her gift was weak, but it was there. She was just like her brother, why had her Dad lied to her? It wasn’t long after that she noticed there were hundreds of runes hidden all over the palace suppressing natural cores. The ceilings sparkled with the gems, the stairs had them embedded into their balusters. He had gone to extremes to stop her. He left one place in the whole of Hellian Court that she could practice: the training grounds.
That was easier when she was little. The staff would help her sneak out there to play. Her best friend, James, was always throwing things for her to try and stop. One time, she shattered a plate in mid air. Everyone was so impressed. Her Dad, however, wasn’t. Even now, so many years away from it, the whole thing made her gut tumble to her feet. If she knew how to use her psycore, she could have saved them. Some days she dismissed the thought as her childish coping mechanism, but perhaps it was true. Maybe if she was stronger then, she could have pushed her Dad over like she pushed over bottles. Maybe she could have broken the sword like she broke the plate. Processing it all was too complicated this early in the morning. She had a plan today, and she was going to succeed.
It was a plan 3 months in the making. Farron conformed to every single one of her Dad’s weird measures. She ate the poison, she studied tea ceremonies, she braided her hair all fancy. Very princessy. It was exhausting, but it made her Dad forget who she was. When she asked to join the Lancer Cadets to better her physique, she met no resistance. Now, all she had to do was walk onto those once elusive training grounds and wait for her psycore to come back to her. She would cause a distraction, something to get enough attention away from her. From there, she could escape through the hole in the back wall she had been working on. It was easy. There was a world outside of this palace, and she was going to find it.
Heading to the training yard, she heard Lieutenant Manford shouting names of the Cadets. It was odd seeing him like this. Manford was like an uncle to her, he lit up any room. She could hardly recognise him as he stood there so serious and cold. She hurried into position at the end of the line. No one so much as glanced at her, their eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance, listening intently for their names. Farron, however, took a moment to check out the courtyard.
She had often tried to see what all the noise was during Wednesday mornings, but she was too young to watch the adults train. Now she knew why. Along the edge of the main square, there were three large boxes lined up filled with weapons. Swords, guns, core gems. In the junior squads, they only practised hand to hand combat and disarmament techniques. She had never used a gun. What if she was a bad shot? Surely they wouldn’t expect much from her on her first day. It would be fine. There were some chopped off broom handles laying on the ground, maybe they were more her style. She could whack the enemy, bruise armies, trip up any threats coming her way. Next to the boxes, shields were piled atop each other battered with bullet holes. They weren’t very good shields, then.
“Lace?”
“Present.” She answered. Leaving her thoughts, she noticed two young student medics standing on the far side of the training grounds. Seemed wise to have them with the crappy shields the cadets had to use. As usual, she had lost track of the Lieutenants monologue explaining the day’s activities. She sighed. So long as she stuck to her plan, she’d be fine. The cadets spilt out of line and grouped up around the boxes chatting casually. Some paired up and began checking over their weapons, others were stretching quietly. Farron approached the boxes and chose a sturdy wooden pole, tapping it on the ground to test the feel of it.
“That’s not gonna be enough, you gotta run with it.” A cadet smiled at her. “Make sure it can take your weight before you fight. You’ll thank me later!”
Farron smiled back as they walked off. She wasn’t sure what they meant, though. Was this a vaulting pole? She tried to look busy as she watched around the cadets for answers. A man was running with one. He slammed the thing into the ground and propelled himself into his partner. Huh. So, yes. Vaulting pole it is. The man had pinned the other cadet to the gravel with the pole and seemed pleased. They high-fived and swapped roles. The other cadet wasn’t as successful and landed loudly on the gravel. She winced on their behalf and headed to the grass. Tapping the pole down, she braced herself and ran.
As she picked up speed she felt a bolt of adrenaline clump in her arms. Could she do this? She had to try. Just once. She readied the pole, struck it to the ground, and pushed. She didn’t realise she had closed her eyes until they opened again, showing her travelling away from the pole. Now what? She twisted her body and willed her psycore to take her the rest of the way. It took a few rolls, but she landed safely. Her heart was calming now. She pried the pole from the grass, smiling. This wasn’t that bad. She took a few more runs, gaining muscle memory and getting used to the odd forces. When she jumped with her psycore she had more control. When she flipped with her legs bent she went faster. So it was decided. She was Farron Professional-Pole-Vaulting-Princess Lace.
She headed to the water table and dropped into a seat. Her body was screaming at her, but she had convinced herself it was good screaming. Like a crowd at a stadium. She gained some breath and watched the other cadets. There was soft thumping from the silenced guns, general yellings of encouragement. A pair were laughing at breaking an old blade. Medics roamed towards them but there was no harm done. The whole squad stood at around thirty cadets and all looked to be good friends. They’d have known each other for a few years now. Farron silenced her jealousy.
It had been lonely in the palace for a few years. First, her brother had left to train when she was little, then her best friend ran away. Tommy was a douchebag but they always got on. She missed their stupid adventures. He stopped coming over as much, then stopped altogether. Any of the staff she befriended would be disciplined and removed. Her dad had her shielded on all angles from any other person on the planet. She couldn’t even have acquaintances. She pulled a face. Maybe she should find those guys that were practising their vaulting? Maybe she could make a few new friends. She probably needed it
“Ah, Princess,” the Lieutenant loomed above her. “I hear you’ve been busy training this psycore of yours?”
“What?” Could he tell she was using her powers when she was vaulting? She cursed herself.
"It's fine. I won't tell if you don't." He smiled. He waited for her to stand before backing away and taking a simple training stance. She mirrored him, hands gently curled in front of her. “I’m going to run at you, you’re going to block me. Yes?”
“Are you sure? What if Dad sees?" Her question landed on deaf ears. Farron rocked herself on her toes, hands by her side with open palms, a slow deep breath summoning the strange force from her mind. She imagined a wall between them and began watching Lieutenant Manford’s movements. When he did move, it was fast, much faster than she expected. She winced, thinking the wall would crash him down a few meters away from her. And it did, sort of. He hit his head off of it and took a step backwards. She sulked. “I can do better,”
The other cadets were looking over their shoulders at the odd display. The pressure of proving herself sat weirdly with her. He ran again, the results were mostly the same. Damn it. Her mind wasn’t listening to her. What had happened? A moment ago she had full control. She shook herself loose. She nodded, he ran again. This time she screamed the thought, she demanded there be a wall. It wasn’t going to fail again.
And it didn’t.
The Lieutenant doubled over backwards, the wind knocked from his lungs, head spinning. He wasn’t the only one that had fallen over. Her ears were ringing. As they waned, she noticed a few cadets grunting in pain. Further from her, they were holding their ears. Those closest to her weren’t moving much, just laying on the gravel as though exhausted. She stood uneasy, watching on in confusion as someone screamed for help. Why?
“I didn’t mean to, I have no idea how this happened, sir, please,”
It was a younger cadet. They seemed scared, confused, but Farron’s mind was caught in a fog. She watched the Lieutenant rise from the ground. He seemed drunk. He was calling out to her. She read his lips. Are you ok? She nodded. She was fine, but there was a cadet on the floor over there. She pointed weakly. The Lieutenant had enough strength left in his legs to make it over to the injured man. Medics were around him. The world was quiet. Her mind slowly woke up. The man was hurt. Poor guy, he was really crying. She frowned. She hated seeing people in pain.
“I was aiming at the target like normal but it hit him, I swear sir, I wasn’t aiming at him.” The younger cadet could hardly talk through tears. What a horrible accident. At least the medics were looking after them. They were safe. “It was like it got blown away, sir. I’ve had it happen in the field but not like this, not this bad. I’m so so sorry,”
It was then that the Lieutenant looked back to her with horror in his eyes. She tilted her head and raised a finger to her chest. Me? His expression was dark. She searched her mind. What did he mean she was to blame? The cadets on the floor near her were complaining of the same phenomenon: they were fine, then there was a huge gust of wind that threw them to the floor.
“Like gravity turned against me…”
Oh.
Thinking back, she saw the gun in her memory being raised slower now. There were a few cadets practising their targets behind her. When her psycore blasted outwards to make the wall, it must have ricocheted the bullet along with it. The cadets fell like dominoes away from her. Her dad’s office overlooked the training grounds, maybe he was there. Maybe he could stop this. Maybe he could fix this just like always. Searching the windows, Farron only saw her terrified face looking back at her. With numb legs and tired lungs, she tried to get to the injured cadet but his friends had surrounded him, praying he could be healed. He could have been sleeping now. His crying had shushed and the medics had slowed their once frantic runing. They shook their heads to one another and the cadets took steps away in disbelief. She saw the damage now. He had been shot in the chest, directly left of centre. He stood no chance.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
The ringing in her ears became unbearable. She hit the floor. She felt drowned. Her dad was waiting in the doorway now. Where were you before? She reached her hands out for him. Lieutenant Manford gathered her up. The last thing she remembered was Chester’s low voice singing a lullaby and the warm smell of this evening's dinner coming from the kitchens.
The Satan of the Provinces sat at the head of the grand table, watching over the 20 empty seats lining its edges, eyes falling at the foot of the table to where Farron’s food would be served. It was odd having dinner like this, so far apart from his daughter. Servants milled around him cleaning glasses to a perfect shine, polishing the cutlery until they were mirrors. The gentle chime of the wine bottles being brought in and displayed gave him a welcome distraction from his thoughts. It was nearing quarter past, his guests would be arriving soon. A few diplomats, a few military officers, a few business partners. None of them friends, none of them company. He would make small talk and nod at life events, laugh and drink. All the while, his mind would be pulling him back to this brief moment of calm. It was difficult to accept this would be the last afternoon with his daughter, and she would be so far away.
Tonight, Farron was attending the dinner as a true woman of nobility, not as his little girl. Tonight, even he would address her by title. He smiled. She was deserving of it after her encounter during training today. It would seem that no amount of planning could avoid her psycore developing. He followed the plan to the letter, went above and beyond the measures they suggested, but to little effect. Chester had considered the dangers of allowing her to practice her talents on the training grounds, being that the protection runes suppressing magics around the palace were disabled there. How could his soldiers learn to use runes otherwise? Yes. He should have thought it through. Indeed, it was irresponsible of him to allow Farron into the cadet program in the first place. As a child, she wanted to be like her brother, fighting bad guys and saving the world. As she grew, even her fiancé was a master assassin, a rare talent in the field. She was stubborn, but her talents did not lay in combat. As displayed today, she was too clumsy, too emotional. She was great at reasoning, though. She could find common ground with anyone. She was a much better politician than any of the like attending the dinner this afternoon.
Chester stood. “Thank you, girls. The dining hall looks spectacular.”
The servants bowed in thanks and remained bowed until Chester had cleared the room. Closing the door behind him, he began towards the main entrance of the palace. Guards swung doors open for him as he approached, letting warm air rush past. His feet reverberated on the terracotta tiles underfoot. The entrance hallway was cast in ornate mosaic tiles depicting the past Satans; above him, the sun shone in technicolour through the stained glass roof. This hallway, though beautiful, got intensely hot in summer, and he often had drinks brought out to the guards based here. They were, therefore, more familiar to him. They acted as a reminder that there was more of him than the invaders set to drink his wine this afternoon.
As he neared the front doors, guards began pulling on ropes to heave the great things open. Their hinges bellowed out. The doors no longer scraped at the tiles beneath after thousands of journeys wore away the resistance. Chester placed himself in the centre of the open doorway, checked the time, and took a breath. Ten minutes to go.
“It looks to be fine weather, hm?” He remarked.
“Aye, Satan, sir. The sun is still bright.” The guard nodded.
“Yes. Shame to be stuck inside chatting politics.”
“But a cherished moment too, sir. I’m sure.”
Chester looked over his shoulder. “Is that so?”
“When one’s child grows, sir. When a father watches his daughter become a woman, sir. ‘Tis a cherished thing.” The guardsman speaking stayed in position, eyes watching the horizon for threat. Had Chester not felt so alone in this moment, he may have been offended; it was not often someone commented on his personal events. He let the words reassure him.
“Well spoken, old boy.” With that, he stood in silence and waited for the guests to appear.
The first of them was tonight’s more uncomfortable guest: the father of the fallen. Chester’s stomach sank. Farron was still distraught, the handmaids calling for backup to restrain the Princess enough to clothe her. The runemaster since soothed her, but that protection would soon fade if she were left alone with her victim’s father. He tutted, “Tell them not to get Farron until everyone is seated.”
“Sir.” The guard saluted.
Footsteps rang on the tiles and doors creaked in the distance behind him as the car came to a steady halt, it’s only inhabitant standing not so proudly a few steps away. Chester closed his eyes, then strutted forward with his signature smile. “David! If it hasn’t been too long, my dear friend.”
“Your highness,” the man bowed, then took the handheld out for him to shake. “It brought great honour for my son to have served you.”
Chester gave his most sincere face and patted the grieving guest's shoulder. With a little weight now, he guided the man toward the grand entrance. Along the hallway, a line of butlers, one for each guest, stood waiting with a filled glass and an hor d'oeuvre selection. The first of them bowed their head and stepped neatly forward. “Have my friend here seated next to me, we’ve so very much to catch up on.” There was no argument. David palmed his drink, raised it in thanks to his host, and began to make his way to the dining hall.
Chester was visibly relieved to be alone again. Of course, this wasn’t long-lived. It had gone from bad to worse. The vehicle now approaching had the wretched tiny flags erected upon its front, its windows frosted a harsh black, its thick wheels spewed gravel left and right. Every time he invited them to these things, his home looked disastrous afterwards. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was a reminder of how much his wife hated him, he was sure. The dreadful thing stopped to let the leader of the Elites exit. He wished it hadn’t, but it did. There he was. Tall, limber, too obnoxious to know when he isn't wanted. A little too comfortable, a little too confident. His green eyes bore a black slit through the centre that jolted in pleasure at seeing how displeased Chester was. When he bowed to Chester, he bowed too low. When he approached Chester, he sauntered. “Sir.” Even the way he spoke got on Chester’s nerves.
“Party’s inside.” Chester waved a hand to a butler.
“Oh! I’m not the only Lilan in a suit today. Lucky you, Chestnut.”
That damn nickname again. His wife definitely set him up. He had asked her to come herself, instead, she sent this fool. This bastard needed to die, and not for lack of trying. Chester had sent a few good men his way. They were all killed. Chester could only bare his teeth to the sky. “Enjoy your beverage. I’ll make sure to poison it better next time.”
The leader of the Elites was being too cocky. He raised his glass as he walked further into the Satan's palace. “Your highness’ health!” He heard no reply, just echoes of more guests being welcomed. Doors were opened for him as he walked. The place was huge. Beautiful too, obviously. Looking around, it could have been its own town. They were led through the great hall to the adjacent dining hall. It was silent here, and only the smell of wine hung in the air. He caught a glimpse of the throne before following his butler into the room - though ‘room’ didn’t do this space justice. The table alone was the size of his bedroom. Money buys a lot of things, but it doesn’t buy a sensible table. How was anyone going to talk around this thing? His butler stopped before a chair in the middle of a row, placed his hor d'oeuvres in front of it, and stepped back. There was another man already seated, his butler behind him also. They were unmoving, like a painting, perfectly poised and ready to refill a glass if beckoned forth to do so. Ridiculous.
“You don’t have to wait,” he told his own man. “Your feet are gonna kill you, honestly, I can’t drink tonight anyway.” He smiled but got nothing in reply. Bending down a little to try and meet his butler’s eyes, they were glassy and bloodshot. He hadn’t blinked yet. He simply remained fixed somewhere, lost in his mind maybe. Or he had been runed within an inch of his life. For his butler’s sake, he hoped the man was just stubborn. He sat down, jumping as his butler pushed his chair under the table for him.
“Oh, uh,” he tried, “yeah. Thank you,”
“Was a shock for me too!” the other guest spoke out. “I’m not used to all this high society, what with being from down the Ports and all.” The man smiled genuinely. It was refreshing.
“Oh? What brings you all this way?”
“My boy, sir.” The man had pain in his eyes. “He’s been awarded the Royal Star this evening.” The medal of bravery for dying whilst protecting the royals. Damn, his kid must have been high rank.
“I’m sorry for your loss, sir. May the Divine watch over his soul.”
“Divine be blessed…” The room fell quiet. “I’m David, by the way. Look at me, where are my manners!” The man’s smile had returned.
“Reine-”
The door was opened, four more rather extravagant guests chatting away to themselves took their seats. The pair of them - both clearly commoners among sharks - smiled and shared a silent joke. David and Reine were most definitely the outsiders here tonight. Everyone else was draped in fabulous fabrics and jewels bigger than their fists. They, however, were in nice enough cheap suits with their hair brushed. It didn't matter to them, though. It was comforting to Reine, having an ally of sorts with him during this farce. The pair of lousy paupers raised a glass to something or other and sat listening as more guests arrived. Diplomats, businessmen. Small talk about a new opera with real fish, someone’s birthday, new hair colour for the missus. Nothing of real interest. Maybe Reine wasn’t going to learn much tonight.
“Henry Calderbank, and you are?” He felt a presence beside him. The voice was low and thick with years of smoking. It emerged from an elder man, overweight, keen to mingle.
“Reine Mariani, leader of the Elites.”
“By Divine, you don’t say? Well, I’m in the business game myself. We’re a lot alike though, you and I. We’re both avid planners, yes? I suppose you could call me an assassin of the stock market!” Henry’s face shone with intrigue as he spoke.
“Is that so, my friend?” Reine replied, sipping his drink slowly. “More?” he gestured to the man’s empty glass.
“Let’s indulge, shall we? It’s free after all!” He called out, sending a cheer through the now filled room. Reine smiled. Drunk people spoke more. His night just got interesting. With a table wide toast to the Satan’s health, the table continued to drink until the doors swung open and a guard hollered: “Rise.” Chester entered, the table bowed. They stayed bowed until he had himself seated comfortably. As the guests started to shift, the guard hollered once more: “Stay risen for her majesty Princess Farron Elidian, maiden to the court.”
"Ok, this is… new." Reine muttered to himself.
The guests stayed bowed as the sound of heels and dress fabric filled the room. The figure took her place at the foot of the table and gave a small cough. It must have been a signal, as the guard called for them to be seated and yet more wine was distributed. Reine placed a hand over his glass, “No thank you, I like to let it sit for a while.”
“And so, good man!” Henry laughed, greedily handing his glass to the butler. “But one shalt be classy in such times, no, no, no.” For a moment, Reine wondered how the man was still talking. He had drank twice as much as anyone else. He would have to tell Madeline that she’s met her match. Looking across the table, it seemed everyone was louder and merrier now. Only himself and Chester hadn’t actually drank yet, Satan being too busy chatting to David to lift his glass.
Someone made a joke and Reine laughed along, clinking his glass for what may have been the 7th time, before catching the eyes of the young woman at the end of the table. She too hadn’t touched her glass. She was sitting smally like she had left half of herself in bed. That said, she was a vision. Even from far away, the detailing on her dress was painstakingly applied - he would know, he had helped his father make a wedding gown - and he sat staring for a moment. He almost wanted to laugh. She seemed to be hiding in the ruffles and the glitter, like a toddler, scared of their parents' friends at a birthday party. Reine lifted his glass high in the air, “To the Princess’s health!”
“To the Princess’s health!” A jolly chorus repeated.
Reine made sure to make eye contact with the young Princess, offering something in the way of reassurance, only to be met with the same glazed over, bloodshot eyes the butlers had. That confirmed it. They were runed. By the looks of their effects, it was some kind of psycore. He knew a calming spell that would help people accept change easier, without too much stress put on the body. But overuse causes memory weakness, dampens the personality. It would make the servants less likely to revolt. As for the Princess? Very odd. Perhaps she was nervous and needed to be calmed. Perhaps she needed to forget something.
The sharp ringing of metal against glass halted any conversation. Chester nodded to the butlers as he stood. Reine looked back over at David, he seemed to be crying and staring at his empty wine glass. He looked away to give him some privacy. Chester was about to give a speech. He was probably going to award the Royal Star now. Chester smiled ear to ear, making sure to look at all of his guests.
“My dear friends,” he began. “I do so hope you are comfortable. Today, I have invited you into my home to share with me one last hurrah. Yes, yes, it is with great sadness I let my daughter step out on her own, friends! Her talents, I’m confident, will take her far with the fabulous teaching at my sweet Lucy’s academy. And, it is with a heavy heart that I announce she is not the sole child to be sent away today. My friend of many years,” he paused to place a hand on David’s shoulder. “His boy was declared deceased in action after protecting me to his last breath.”
A lady across from Reine cleared her throat. “My condolences,” she sputtered, sipping the wine as best she could. A man somewhere on the right of Reine coughed too. “Divine watch over him, friend.” Reine noticed a few uncomfortable faces now. They probably weren’t prepared for such heavy conversation after their small talk about sand quality in K’Hana.
“Indeed, Divide watch over that brave soul.” Chester nodded. “And may the Divine watch over yours too, Liona.”
Reine looked to the women sitting opposite him. Their friend’s head seemed strangely angled. He opened his palm under the table and cleared his mind. Was she ok? By now the guests either side of her had begun nudging her, giggling nervously at her blunder of falling asleep. “Too much wine,” her husband joked. She was dead.
“That would be my guess too, Johan,” Chester said brightly, returning to his seat. “David has had quite enough too, haven’t you old friend?”
Reine tried to spring to his feet. He was quickly stopped by the butler's hand crashing down on his neck. David had stopped crying and was now frozen in place, staring at his empty wine glass. His lips were blue. He wasn’t the only one. The woman on his right hadn’t stirred for several minutes now. Touching his hand to hers, she was now growing cold.
“Henry, don’t let go of my hand.” He muttered. The man grabbed him. It was clear now that they were among the last ones left alive. Closing his eyes, Reine let his years of training do the work. He felt stupid. But how was he supposed to know? He was here on a simple escort mission. This would have been easy work - no, this should have been easy work. He should have looked into the facts: why were the butlers runed? That didn’t seem suspicious, but the Princess? She would have something to say about this. Surely. He thought back on what Chester had said. He’s letting the Princess step out on her own to go to Lucy’s academy. She’s the mission. Why is she runed? Something was missing.
“I’ll make sure to poison it better next time.” Reine repeated Satan's threat to a room full of fading people.
“Mr Mariani, you needn’t worry. Sadly you’re the only one I’m not allowed to get rid of tonight.” The Princess was escorted out of the room now. Reine used the distraction to whisper a plan to Henry, before pretending to be very aghast and very surprised.
“How could you?” Reine challenged. Actually, there was some truth to his question. He liked David.
“They wanted to purchase slaves from me tonight. I thought you would be proud.”
Reine gave a cold stare to Henry. “Go, now. Before I change my damn mind.”
Waiting no longer, the man tumbled from his chair, snapping the wood in the fall. He coughed and spluttered, sending spit all over the floor. The butlers made a move for him but were called off.
“Let him go. He’s already dead.”
And with that, the world became calm. The guests propped up in their seats were each taken by their respective servants. Some were still smiling. It was as though none of them knew they were gone.
“There has been a lot of death here today, Mr Mariani. I don’t expect there needs to be another.”
“I find that agreeable.” He spoke as himself now, no bravado, no character. A group of the victims were talking about how their children should have a playdate. Their children were now orphaned. The paperwork he had to file when he got home would keep him up for another 4 hours. He had a class in the morning. “Was David really here for a slave?”
“No,” Chester sighed, “His child was murdered today. The only way to stop the inquiry going ahead was to eliminate the next of kin. And actually,” he reached into his pocket and placed a small pin in the man’s hands before he was taken away. “I owe him this. Thank you for reminding me.” Though there was warmth in his words, they sent chills down Reine’s spine. The Satan was heartless. He acted like an alien playing pretend, miming emotions, mimicking thoughtfulness. It was a bizarre display, and Reine had seen enough.
“Am I to believe the Princess is my mission?”
“Yes. The car has been prepared as you asked, her suitcase in the back.” Chester replied, reaching for a leftover pastry.
“And you know she is only allowed-”
“Her civilian clothes, yes. The only thing she’s missing is Pupu.”
Reine raised an eyebrow. “No pets, either.”
“Not a pet. I made it for her when she was a girl. Keep it with her, yes?”
Reine nodded. Chester’s sincerity was sickly sweet and toxically believable. The man played father so well Reine wanted to genuinely assure him his daughter was going to be fine. “Where is she?”
“Waiting in the car.” With that, Chester left. Reine sat alone at the empty table, only the Princess’s and the Satan’s chairs remained. Half-empty glasses were still laid out, hor d'oeuvres nothing but crumbs. It looked like any party’s leftovers, but it wasn’t. It was a crime scene slowly being cleaned away by young Lilan girls. They couldn't have been older than twelve. Did they know what had happened here? Reine took his and his neighbouring guests drinks and trays to their trolley. They looked at him in confusion. They weren’t runed.
“For all who need us,” he muttered.
“For all who need us.”
Reine drove out of the palace with a car full of the sleeping girl's belongings. He had placed Pupu - terrible name, kids are dumb - in her arms and covered her in a blanket. He hadn't had time to decide if he was angry or not yet. Chester got away with whatever his heart desired. For a decade the Princess wasn't allowed out of Hellian Court. Something wasn't adding up. Something had changed. A few hours of driving would calm his mind. Probably.
They were just crossing into Sanctuary when he noticed she was awake. She sat there staring out of the window. She didn’t ask where she was going or who she was with. She was crying but not a sound came from her. After a while, he introduced himself.
“My name’s Reine. I’m a friend.”
"You saved that man, didn’t you?”
He watched her through the mirror for a moment. It started to rain. He pulled into the slow lane and fiddled with the volume dial on the dash. Once the song could be heard, he gave a friendly smile. It was clearly an amateur recording but it was his favourite regardless. “Do you like this sort of thing? My friends are all talented, I’m the odd one out. I can hold a tune I think. Or they’re all lying to me.”
She had stopped crying. “I play the piano a little.”
“You’ll fit right in then, hm?”
The car journeyed onwards for the remainder of the song. The roads were quiet this late at night, though they were in no hurry. It would take another hour or so to get back to De Luca’s. He let his mind wander to the paperwork waiting at his desk for him. He had no chance of finishing it before class. All deaths on missions had to be reported by the twelfth hour after they occurred, that way Lucy could deal with any discrepancies and the Guardian’s could deal with any fallout. The rules were solid and usually pretty sensible. But with this being a generic escort mission, each death was ‘unprecedented’. He would have to explain why he didn’t save each and every one of the lives lost and justify not detaining Henry for evidence of his innocence. Even though he was careful, he was certain some DNA would have been left behind. He could be framed for what, nearly twenty murders? What a headache. He turned up the music a little to drown out his thoughts. After a few more songs, he became very aware of the silent princess’s eyes on him. He met her gaze in the mirror, then watched the rain hit the road ahead of them.
“You saved that man, didn’t you?” Her voice was strained.
“Yes.” He paused for her reaction. He wanted to tell the truth, that he didn’t want to save anyone. He wished he wasn’t there. He wanted to go to bed. However, it was clear something was on her mind, a question she needed answering. A question she wouldn’t have if she was runed. “How did you know?”
“Thank you for saving him.” She seemed to swallow her words. He waited, the soft hum of the engine filled the space between them. “They didn’t want slaves. Dad’s preparing for the Ball. They told him it wasn’t right to have Lilans these days, as if it ever was. They told him to hire proper entertainment. So they came round tonight for... ‘proper entertainment’. He tried runing me but it didn’t work. They kept going and going but it didn’t work. I pretended. Kept my eyes open, made ‘em red. I was scared. You smiled at me. I thought you were dead, but you survived. How?”
“I didn’t drink.”
“Or eat?” She questioned.
“Nope. You want food? I’m starving.” He said with a smirk. The next time she spoke was after their final slurps of milkshakes had dried and their trash was thrown into the takeaway bag in the front seat. They were only twenty minutes away now, it had passed midnight. This was the nicest part of the drive. They had left the huge roads and entered the outer edges of the town.
She thanked him, he shrugged. “I think after the night we’ve had, we deserved the sugar, hm?” She had started crying again. Shit. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“My dad is evil, isn’t he?”
Silence.
“It’s ok, Reine, you can say it. I know he hurts people. He hurts the Lilans all the time. He’s a monster. You can say it. He’s killed loads of people. He thinks I don’t know. He’s as evil as everyone says he is, isn’t he?”
“Listen, kid. You just concentrate on getting some sleep tonight, yeah?”
“I’m just like him, y’know? I don’t know how I did it. Today, in training. I psycore blasted a bunch of the cadets. Killed one. Sent a bullet into him. I’m a monster too.”
Reine narrowed his eyes. “This was today?”
“A few hours before the dinner, yeah. You told me to sleep? I tried and I can’t. I can’t even be runed to sleep. It’s like I’m dead.”
Reine nodded. “You might have exhausted your connection to the void. It doesn’t happen a lot, so your medics at the palace wouldn’t have known what to do. I can help you when we get in.” He tried a comforting smile, but it did nothing to hide the worry sewn into his face.
“Exhausted my what?” He had scared her.
“When we use our inner core without a channel, we rely on our connection to the void to sustain that. If we exhaust that it’s like... your imagination has been turned off. No connection, no signal. When we use up what we’ve got, we won’t be able to think, speak, and sometimes we can no longer sleep. It’s not safe. You can really injure yourself.” He checked her for a moment, meeting eyes with her in the mirror. She seemed frustrated.
“So... I can’t do psycore anymore?”
“You’ll be fine once I’ve fixed you up. Only problem is it’ll mess with your memory. I fix the connection with the void, you don’t remember leaving the void. Or anything that happened in between.”
The knocking was getting too loud to sleep through, but that wasn’t what woke her up. It was coming from the wrong side of her bed. Was someone coming in through the window? The usual smell of her breakfast laid out on her desk wasn’t there. Was she supposed to be having breakfast in the halls? Why could she not get up? With every move of her muscles, a long dull ache dragged her back down again. She tried to address the knock, but her mouth slurred uncontrollably. He had her runed again, huh? Her dad was such a control freak. She felt like she had been dropped out of a plane.
With new effort, Farron scraped herself off of the sheets surrounding her. They weren’t her daisy sheets. Why would the staff have changed them already? Her eyes could open enough to see simple dark wood flooring past her bed. Her carpet was gone. She blinked a few times waiting for her brain to load its thoughts. She wasn’t at home.
“Yo, Lace? You gotta eat, Reine gave me pretty strict instructions. I got a smoothie here too, I make ‘em in the mornings cause I’m not allowed caffeine. Can’t concentrate. Dunno why. Everyone says I don’t need it, which I don’t. I have my blueberry smoothies to keep me going. They’re a natural superfood, y’know? They-”
Reaching the door, she swung it open. “Sorry,”
“It’s no bother.” The boy held out a travel cup with a smile. He wasn’t much taller than herself, with honey shine eyes and manic hair. He was buried in his uniform, with a jumper and a hoodie stacked over top. She tried to reach for the cup but fell lopsided into the doorway. Nausea swam under her skin. Runed didn’t cut it. She was over-runed twice then whacked over the head with a rune for good measure.
“Reine said you’d been messed about with. Nasty stuff.”
She nodded, taking the flask. She spent a moment drinking her breakfast and waiting for the sickness to pass. When it did, she thanked him. “Oh, it’s no problem. You can’t be late on your first day. Those are yours, by the way.” He pointed into the room towards a small set of drawers. A uniform had been left out for her, along with a toothbrush and some simple toiletries. Was this… the academy? “You’ve not much time to get ready, it’s already half past. Class is in fifteen. I’ll be waiting down the hall, yeah? Oh... and welcome to De Luca’s.”
When the Princess re-emerged, she looked like any of the other seniors - bar the green pin on her necktie to symbolise she was a Reaper. Lucian had to steal a leaf gem from the rune shop to have something ready for her. You don’t just find Reaper pins laying about. You don’t really find Reapers laying about either. They had vanished, barely a trace of them left these days. Of course, there was No Mans Land but those were only rumours. The Satan’s Lancers guarded any evidence the Reapers ever even existed in the first place. As she walked towards him, she didn’t seem all that special. She walked normally, shoulders back a bit. Wasn’t floating. Wasn’t glowing. He couldn't think of any reason the Reapers had to be kept such a closely guarded secret. Well, not from looking at one anyway.
“Uh… Thanks for the smoothie.” The Princess seemed nervous. She looked like she was feeling a million things piled on top of other things.
“I’m Lucian, Lucian Gray. Hellhound! Can’t show you here, I get stuck in doorways. Tailor gets upset if I malt inside, too. I’m usually a bit of a rule bender but his eggs benedict are stuff of legend. He doesn’t make you breakfast when he’s angry with you. Not worth it. How’re you feeling?”
She was smiling now.
“Ah, we’re feeling better then?” He asked - she nodded. “See, didn’t I tell you! I’m not a decent cook, but I’m the best in the Provinces at making smoothies. Come on, it’s runes now. You ever worked with runes, Lace? Can I call you Lace? My mam wouldn’t have me in her house again if I called the Princess by her first name.”
She giggled a bit at that one. “My last name is fine.” They set off together down large dark wood stairs to an open double door and out on to the courtyard. It was everything she had imagined it to be. “Oh…” she breathed.
“Yeah I know, bigger than you thought, hm? That’s why they keep the little ‘uns in the barn. They’d get lost in the main building.”
“Yeah, no kidding. I think I’m gonna get lost in there.”
“Nope!” Lucian linked their arms and set off confidently towards a staircase built onto the outside of the building. “I’m your guide for the first two weeks. You’ll come with me to all my classes. I shouldn’t lose you. If you do lose me, I’ll go hound mode. You won’t miss me then.”
As they reached the stairs, the smell of warm food drifted from an open window. “Man, I tell you. Wednesday rune class is always the hardest. We’re right above the kitchens. Quickest to the cafeteria after class though!” He nudged her. She was pretty when she smiled. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t feel bad for her. Runes was a tough first class. They entered the building on the first floor and walked a few steps to an open door. Inside was a dimly lit classroom.
“Come in.” The teacher called monotonously.
“Mornin’, sir. I’m being shadowed by the Princess-“
“Drop the title, you’re in class.” The teacher grunted.
“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry. New girl’s with me, sir.”
“Brilliant.” He didn’t look away from his computer screen, fingers still tapping away at keys. There was nothing special about the classroom, it was one of twenty identical rooms in this block. Along the walls were posters of gems and information about runing safely. Farron sucked her teeth. Maybe her Dad needed to come here, learn how to safely administer his zombie runes. Whatever. She pushed it to the back of her mind and let Lucian lead her to his table. He handed her a notepad and pen with a smile. It made her feel homesick somehow.
“Thanks, man.” she smiled back. He looked at her with disdain. “What?”
“Man?”
“Oh, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed!”
“...No, I mean, well thank you but, no, you're just... More relaxed than I expected?”
"I grew up surrounded by boys, you don't scare me."
"No, I suppose I am quite friendly."
“Yeah. I'm glad I’ve got someone like you to help me right now. This whole thing is so weird, Dad would never let me even see this place in a history book, never mind let me go here. I swear, the world must be ending. There's no other way he'd have changed his mind, stubborn bastard."
"The story is pretty wild, Lace, I'll give you that. Arriving in the middle of night in the rain, it's all very mysterious. I thought you were gonna be in a coma for a while with how bad you looked. I'll admit, Reine healed you up a bunch. My blueberry smoothie can’t take all the credit.” He watched her think. “Y’know, sometimes it’s nice to keep busy when life gets confusing.”
“Yeah. I’m excited. I’ve never been in a classroom before.”
“Aw... It’s sad this is exciting for you.” Lucian grinned.
The lights were shut off making the room nearly pitch black. Then, runes in the ceiling began glowing softly. The teacher stood in front of a blackboard, hands in pockets, face calm. Farron cooed to Lucian, who nodded understandingly. Reine Mariani was a sight behold. He was a Lilan. His honey kissed skin and slicked back ears were complimented by forest green eyes and messy black hair. It hardly made up for the difficult course content, but at least the teacher looked pretty whilst he told you were a failure.
“Good morning, class.”
“Good morning, Mr Mariani.” The class chorused back.
“Ok, so first off how did we find our homework?” There was a consensus of moaning throughout the pupils. “Hm. Alright, what were some of our difficulties?” As the students spoke, the teacher wrote on the blackboard. He nodded along and answered questions. Farron was looking around the room wide-eyed.
“If amethyst is used for sleeping, why wouldn’t it work here?”
“The patient couldn’t sleep due to their pain, so something with mandevilla would treat the cause most efficiently.” The teacher left his chalk behind and began roaming the classroom collecting scribbled sheets and notebooks.
Lucian chuckled to himself. The princess was making notes of everything. If someone’s name was said, she wrote it down and doodled their face above it. Reine’s picture was the funniest. ‘Mr Marinara’ with a brooding man above it. “Where’s me?” He asked. She laughed, drawing a big smiley face with huge tufts of hair.
“Better?”
“Don’t forget my freckles, they’re my best feature!”
“Homework?” The teacher stood over them. “And it’s Mariani, not marinara. The palace didn't teach spelling?”
Lucian handed over his work with a bitten smile. Reine rolled his eyes at them, leaving. Lucian burst into a laugh. Farron elbowed him and hid behind her hands. “Why didn't you tell me!"
"'Cause I wanted him to see it?" He grinned.
"Wow, my first ever school friend is just gonna throw me under the bus like that, huh?” She scratched over her doodle of the teacher and sighed.
"Ooh, good words, Lacey-pooh, can you spell bus?"
Under most other circumstances Reine would have been harsher with the pair of idiots sitting at the back of his classroom, but after the journey last night, he was glad to see the princess happy. He sat, idly scanning the sheets of homework in front of him and thought back. After reconnecting Farron to the void, she was happy to lose her memory of the night. The good news was that it clearly worked. She showed no signs of recognising him. The bad news was she looked more confused than he would have wanted. If she didn’t know why she was at the Academy, would she still listen to Lucy’s offer? She seemed like a good kid. If Lucian got along with her, she had to be.
This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Having one of the twins on their side was crucial in turning the tide of the corruption. It was almost impossible to think right now. He had been up all night at his computer, his eyes could hardly focus on any words he read. He sat back and stared at the ceiling. Pressure. This job was a lot of pressure. He felt it hanging around his head, pushing into his shoulders. Boy oh boy was he gonna sleep good tonight. He stretched then neatly stacked the papers and stood. “Great job everyone,” he sighed, positioning himself next to his blackboard. “Your homework was legible and I’m not in the mood to mark them. So you passed. Yey.”
His class sighed in relief as he leant against the wall, arms folded casually. He still couldn't think and he knew why. His eyes fell on the princess at the back of the class. Maybe if he cleared the air? He steeled his mind.
“New kid,” he called out.
“Me?” she replied, shrinking.
“Yeah. Talk to me after class. We’ve got a meeting to attend. And everyone - this is Farron. I’m sure you’ll do your best to give her the warmest of welcomes.”
