The early morning sun lain above the mountainside of Eden, casting a warming light onto the three kingdoms. It was morning, a couple hours before afternoon, and half the sky was dressed in a clear blue speckled with white clouds. Following these clouds was a large group of grey clouds, slowly making their way towards the kingdoms with every minute passing by. With the expectation of bad weather came many villagers running around to tend to their chores early, whether it may be tending to crops or visiting the marketplace. While bad weather would dampen their schedules, the castles would be booming with activity for different reasons.

Kingdoms Gabriel and Michael received letters from the Kingdom of Raphael an hour ago, a dove for each of them serving as a courier by the King of Raphael. By the choice of courier, it wouldn’t come as a surprise of who sent the letter but more of a surprise that the letter was not signed along with any other names. Not of Rayne’s or Argus’s – no, not even Cordelia’s either – but rather, the lonesome name of Valentine Regnier was the only one, and furthermore both letters were handwritten with a personal address to the rulers of each kingdom. It was an odd thing to do, as it was uncommon for any monarch to write without an accompanying name of fellow ruler, advisor, knight, or even bishop, but it was done.

Each letter was addressed to the kings and queen individually, lacking any distinct matching format in each letter. The King of Gabriel would have a different address and format in words than that of King of Michael, perhaps in hopes to catch the others interest as opposed to a mass-produced letter with the same style. One may consider these letters informal, but Valentine would insist that they would be effective and useful, even accepting the fact that he may be judged for such. There were far more important things on the line than that, and Valentine stressed this in each of the letters without disclosing too much information.

Midday, at the Round Table, a meeting with each monarch of the kingdoms; bring the maximum of four guards – two inside, two outside – , the will to negotiate, and arrive lightly armed in case the worst, as indirectly discussed, comes. Not a battle among fellow kings, but of uninvited ones, those that ought to be feared the most. Respond with haste, hope for peace, and seek for alliance and unity. Signed by Valentine Raphael Regnier, King of Raphael.

In the present time, perhaps he should have directly addressed the threat at hand. Even then, maybe he should have constantly rewritten the same words to each of the monarchs, giving them identical and formal letters as opposed to individual and informal letters. Then again, many of things could have also been done other than that, and what has been done cannot be changed. This would be fine, this would be alright. He had to tell himself that, nervously twirling his father’s ring in his hands. He was expecting the best, but after thinking twice of what he had done, he probably should’ve prepared for the worst. What if Queen Zaphiris chooses not to go because of King Fairchild? She’s still in mourning... Right? Or perhaps King Zaphiris? Though, King Zaphiris is far more level headed than his sister… Such shouldn’t be a worry, but if Valentine was wrong and that wasn’t the case? Or what if King Fairchild and King Zaphiris have some newly formed rivalry that Valentine hasn’t been keeping up on?

Valentine released a deep sigh, lowering his head only in the slightest. He stood on the balcony attached to his master bedroom, offering a pleasant view on the daily lives of Raphael. Everything seemed just as it should be… Peaceful, quaint, and delightful. He had to keep this for his kingdom, but with the given information at hand, how could he keep it? He would push for an increased army – aye, but not too much, for the sake of the people – and would yield very little growth from it. If the weakening of the seal is as certain as it seems to be, Valentine would need a larger army to protect his kingdom. A larger army could not promise full protection of his people, but to minimize as much loss as possible would be ideal for his people and his image. There would be only one other way of acquiring such without creating a draft, and that would be an alliance.

An alliance wouldn’t only benefit himself and his kingdom however. Yes, sure, his people have been dependent on trading with his closest neighbors Gabriel and Michael for goods and survival, but that’s beside the primary point. To have the three united as one would maximize each one of their potentials, which would be necessary in order to handle the undoing of the seal. When the seal comes undone, weakened after 275 years of tampering and weariness, they’ll have to be prepared. Why be prepared at the very moment when they can be prepared beforehand, such as now? Current affairs have not made this easy to conduct, given the circumstances of Gabriel and Michael relations, but this had to be done… If they valued their people as much as Valentine valued his, or even cared for the lives of others beyond their own kingdom, whatever it may be in the name in, then they would! Shouldn’t they?

Perhaps Valentine was planning too far ahead, holding too many expectations. He had to think about the moment: for now, doves would already be at the kingdoms, and they will return with each ruler’s response… Hopefully as quick as possible, as he had stressed in his letters. At the moment, he would make arrangements while waiting for his love doves to return.

“Rayne – Rayne? Picard?” Valentine called, popping his head through the curtains of his room, “If you would so kindly –“ He paused, staring at Picard for a whole couple of seconds… And was puzzled. What was Picard exactly doing? Should he comment or… Or no! There isn’t any time to waste. Duties now, scolding later. “If you would so kindly, Fetch Cordelia for me, would you? And if you happen to make a run in with Argus, do fetch him as well. Gather them at my study, and I shall be there in... Hopefully couple of minutes, give or take. Please and thank you.” With that said, Valentine turned his attention back to the scenery, placing his father’s ring back into his pocket, and places his hands along the balcony’s railing. It shouldn’t take long to receive the letters, should it? Hopefully, if everything goes as plan, things won’t turn out as bad… Right?

---

Lone in the castle’s garden, the queen wrote away her response on a nearby surface, quill tightly in hand as she rushed to finish her letter. At first, the impulse reaction was to reject the letter. She had her mind made up the moment that she was told that King Fairchild would be attending, and that being said it would be the King of Gabriel. Gabriel? Adeline took it as an insult to hear that kingdom’s name in her presence! A year and three months, and did Gabriel do anything between then and now to mend their relations? None, or at least none that Adeline would accept! The thought of it infuriated her, crumbling a portion of the received letter in her palm. Instead of proceeding, she stopped, and unraveled the paper.

Her brother would probably tell her that she was over reacting. So what? Her mother probably would’ve told her the same... And yeah, she probably would be right. But her father would say the same thing, and she would be certain that he was right. Adeline looked down at the dove nearby her. Shaken and jumped, the dove seemed startled, but moved closer to her thereafter. There was nothing to be feared… Perhaps she will receive answers if she goes from King Fairchild himself. Well, that didn’t sound convincing, or at least when she mumbled to it to herself aloud. However, the worst had to be done in order to get to the best, no? That’s why all those heroes had to slay their demons to get to their prize, right?

Even that couldn’t convince her, and she had to read the letter again. Well, it is a given that Valentine knew what he was doing, no? Adeline had placed some trust in him in the past, and he did not fail such… Other than that one time he tried to bring Michael closer to Gabriel so soon after the assassination. Tasteless, really, but perhaps... individually, he only meant for the best. He had in the past as much as he expressed in the present. If anything else, she could simply storm off and wait within the carriage until the meeting is over, though a part of her felt as if Auberon would not allow that.

Adeline wrote away and signed her letter with regards to Valentine in a style to reflect his informality, including her name. She noted that she was still in mourning, and she noted her low patience for King Fairchild, but insisted that she will attend despite these two circumstances. Rolling the letter up, she wrapped it with the same teal-blue ribbon her received letter came in and held it towards the dove, which immediately took it and flew away. She had a feeling that she should had discussed the contents of her letter in which would agree with her brother’s, but she felt that she didn’t have to run every decision by him. If he chose not to go – which, she would be surprised if that was so – then Adeline could go by herself. Though such had presented the question of who to take and who’s to stay.

Auberon was sure to ask her about the arrangements soon enough, unless Valentine did not tell him as many details as he informed her with. She folded her received letter into her hands and walked back inside, her long black and muted blue train dragging behind her. Upon the first servant she saw, a maid with an empty basket in hand, Adeline called her name and requested her service.

"Penelope, may you do me a favor?" Adeline inquired in a gentle voice, stopping in her tracks and giving full attention to the maid.

"Of course, your Majesty. What can I assist you with?"

"I would like to host the following in my study," Adeline started, in which she noticed the maid's spike in attentiveness, "my brother, Auberon, first of all, followed by... two personal servants, and ones of the knights, please?"

"King Auberon," Penelope paused, looked around her, and then back at Adeline, "Noted. Is there any specific persons you may have, your Majesty?" Adeline seemed to be at a draw, as if she didn't expect that question to come up. She did appreciate the servant's effort, however, who also looked eye to eye with Adeline. It was nice to see that she didn't come off as frightening to her servants.

"If you find Rancor or Olifina, that would be best, though both would be splendid. And, as for a knight... Sir Venisi, please." Adeline gave the servant a kind smile. It crossed her mind that her sister Serenity would be awake by now, running around the castle, but she hoped that the child wouldn't find her way into the study.

"As you wish, your Majesty."

"Thank you." With words exchanged, Penelope went off.

Adeline proceeded to her study and placed her received letter upon the desk, and turned to the window behind her chair, hanging up the curtains to let in some light into the room. With ease she opened the large window, letting the light breeze enter the room, the fresh air coming as relief to her... Everything will be just fine, Adeline thought, with a little bit of strength. Everything, she told herself, will be just fine. If all comes to worse, she'll just grab a brush and brush her hair, or have her personal servant do it, and then maybe she'll change up her dress. Either way, Adeline was certain about going to this meeting despite other personal feelings, and will do so no matter what arrangements must be made.

---

Guard duty. Of all tasks he was assigned it, it would be the most tiresome task. While some units enjoyed a laid back assignment at the castle, Lance couldn't tolerate standing for hours on end with nothing happening, having to listen to royals and maids bicker to themselves as they passed him. Even worse, the neighboring guard seemed to have fallen asleep, unable to make small conversation with him. If he were to receive extended duty, he wasn't sure what he would do. Well, actually, he would just obey the order. Maybe his obedience for today will pay off tomorrow, or in a few hours if he's released for duty early.

Leaning against the castle's stone wall, Lance guarded the east gate quietly. The view was pleasant, but there was no one to make small talk about it with... And even then, who went through the east gate? No one's permitted through them anyways, only knights, bishops, and monarchs. However, perhaps by the off chance there would be intruders. Even then, if someone were to intrude, why the east gate? If Lance had to be intruding, in which he probably shouldn't be theorizing in the first place, he wouldn't choose to go through east gate. Though, given the current situation of the gate at the moment, it didn't sound like a bad idea.

"Nystrom? Lance Nystrom?" In a quick moment, a hand waved in front of him, and Lance looked up to spot a white haired, blue eyed lady dressed in bishop apparel.

"Hm...? Oh – Oh, Daniella –"

"That's Danny for you, Lancella," Daniella lifted his chin up with her leather-bound book, "I'm not working with anymore formalities."

"My apologies Dan – Danny," He spoke, his cheeks slightly pinked, "I can't remember everyone's name around these parts, and furthermore preferences and nicknames, schedules and more." She released a distressed sigh following his sentence. With that given sigh he already felt bad for coming up with excuses. "What is it today?" He asked, hoping to move on from his mistake.

"Today? Well, you see," Daniella looked up to him and sat on a nearby half-wall. She opened her book up, flipping through the pages mindlessly, then closed it up. "Monarchs, bishops, knights, ya-da-da... Okay, despite all the gossipy filler the castle is full of, there's actually something happening as far as I've heard of. You know the Kingdom of Raphael?"

Lance rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Kingdom of Raphael... That's what the dove was?"

"Hey, look at you! You're not so bad for guard duty," She pinched Lance's cheek, in which he yanked himself from her after only a second's hold. "Yeah, apparently from what I heard, the King Fairchild has a letter from... from what's-his-face. Probably about peacey weacey, flowery-sparkly make-up talk." Lance stared at Daniella for a moment, blank in expression, but then cracked a smile.

"Danny, I swear if they hear you talking like that..."

"Hey! They don't! That's the catch," Daniella grinned. "I'm technically not on duty for as long as I'm not in a church or around kissing the feet of the rich people."

"A self-declared vacation? I don't think that's what being a bishop offers –"

"Says the one guarding the east gate."

"Fine, fine – that's quite a shot... I'll take it," Lance muttered the rest under his breath, in which Daniella lifted a book under his chin, expecting him to cough up his words. He didn't, but instead, laughed. Shaking her book towards him, she could only follow then after. After a few seconds, Lance started to clear his voice, "But, but mind that. You think there's gonna be another meeting?"

"It's like the only thing Raphael knows how to do. Of course! Tactically speaking, I think it'd be a bad idea to ignore the opportunity, but that's probably why I'm not an archbishop yet."

"That or, you know, it's only been a year since you've been bishop." Daniella shrugged and muttered in agreement. The two remained silent for a while. Then, Lance looked over at Daniella with a confident smile.

"You think I'll get released early from duty?"

"I'm pretty sure if there is a meeting, and if they're taking anyone, it's gonna be a knight and not a warrior."

"Cruel Danny, really cruel."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

Both of them shared a laugh for the time. Daniella set her crosier nearby her as she entered into a long conversation with Lance, the two of them making various small talk with each other. Topics varying from castle gossip, work as of late, the kingdom's situation, and more. The both had their guards down, slacking, but truly only Lance was the one on duty. On the other hand, Daniella had just tended to her morning agenda, taking a small break between that and her upcoming afternoon agenda. Conversation was a nice time killer after all, especially when it wasn't with some of the knights and their constant formality towards her. That's probably why she talked with Lance so much, and perhaps a few other warriors around Gabriel as well. A small slice of normality was all she asked for, and by seeking it, she received.

---

Another blast from the Sheol Cathedral, shaking the building from loose rocks that kept it standing. What was once a beloved building of worship in the Kingdom of Lucifer had become a workshop on the curse that sealed the kingdom away from the surface many years ago. Day by day, body by body, the attempt to undo the seal would harm those who tampered with it, but the risk was well worth it. A couple bodies for the sake of freedom? It was a well accepted concept within the Kingdom of Lucifer. Whether human or demon, cursed or not, prisoner or unit, all capable hands would be used. No exceptions. Disobedience to do as instructed led to a death worse than what the seal could inflict, but it would be a death that some would choose over the other.

Lenore stood on the second story of the cathedral, looking down upon the many bodies draining the seal. Those who were disobedient were turned to the ash that laid scattered across the floor, those who fell still and quiet were back to their feet once more, and those who passed in a painful death were brought back to do their chore. She wasn't alone in watching over them. Nearby her was Ichabod, another bishop of the Kingdom of Lucifer, though not as important as herself whom claimed the archbishop title herself. Some feared the title, a rare others like Ichabod didn't care for it, but Lenore took it as rightfully her own and secured it by all means necessary.

With another scream filling the cathedral came another airy blast from the seal, and this time it was something worth noting. Twice in a row in a short period time showed promising signs of the seal's weakness. Lenore felt certain that the seal had now reached a critical weak point, one that will present itself as a promising release from the underground. She made note of this in the journal on top of her tomb and then made her way down the stairs. Only one person had the nerve to pause, thinking that they were done with their task, but immediately went back to it when they dared to look at Lenore.

Outside of the cathedral and going down another flight of stairs, she was quick on her feet to meet with the king immediately. She didn't have to share a word with Ichabod for she was certain that the progress made was able to speak for itself. It was something to be proud of. Sure, she didn't do the work herself, tending only little to the actual seal itself, for it would be suicide to weaken the seal with the method the kingdom's been using. However, it was effective. If she wasn't as demanding as she was, it probably would have taken longer to handle! She had to give herself some credit for this project. On the other hand, Ichabod deserved credit as well for bringing back dead bodies the second time around.

The walk from the cathedral to the castle would be finished in thirty minutes, given that Lenore's pace was slightly rushed for the sake of delivering the news. She didn't give attention to any citizens and lower titled persons who would pass on by. At the door of the castle, she would knock, and a servant would answer. A cursed human – obvious by the curse upon his forehead – who's name... Didn't come to Lenore at the very moment, but nor did she care to remember any of the servant's names.

"Your Grace," The servant nodded towards Lenore, "What may I... assist with you with?" He sounded quiet at first, but furthermore after looking over to see Ichabod in the background.

"I seek audience with King Erebus; I have a report ready to be looked over," Lenore stated. The servant nodded again and opened the door further, allowing them into the first room of the castle.

"Pl – Please... wait right... here," He said, "I shall... check him, with you..." With that, he made his depart.

Lenore looked over to Ichabod, the two standing quietly in straight posture. She didn't say anything at first. A thought crossed to her that she should probably say something, but what was there to say? Should she seek his approval of her efforts? She had accomplished quite a feat leading on the project. Yet, if she were to speak, may anyone be forbidden to hear it. She wouldn't want her reputation tarnished by silly rumors or furthermore give Ichabod anymore power. Fighting for her reputation has been difficult enough. At any moment, anyone could take a piece of information that they discovered from her and use it against her. Not that Ichabod would allow it, or so she was sure, but demons will use the dirtiest tricks just to do otherwise. Even in the face of death they'll talk about.

So no, hush, remain quiet. Perhaps he'll say something? Lenore looked up to her with her ice-blue eyes, holding the tome and journal in her hands tightly. Pass the time, compliment her, say something; it felt as if she was being torn apart by the seal's magic itself. Time will pass though, of course it will. Maybe the king should hurry up if he took pity on a soul – implying he ever could.

Looking up from the unfolded letters in his hands, Picard carefully creased them once more, setting them back in the false book. He looked at his king attentively, though the words he'd been reading danced behind his eyes. It was hard to believe such letters were connected to Valentine; the varying prose and poetry seemed to have bled from the king himself, but they were addressed to him, not from him. In some, the gentle advisor recognized the handwriting of Vincent and of Carina. In others, the loopy calligraphy was unfamiliar. He could only assume that the mysterious third party was either an admirer or a pen pal - either way, a romantic one at that. Tucking the hollow book back onto the shelf, he paid his king his full attention.

"Of course, your Majesty," Picard responded obediently with a half-bow. Though not a typical servant, the brunette had few qualms when it came to playing messenger for Valentine. He was too likable a man, too kind and gracious, to consider refusing. Beyond that, they had grown up together, and he'd fallen easily into the serving role with the dark-haired monarch.

The advisor to the throne took his leave silently, not wanting to disturb his king's thoughts any further, and closed the door to the king's chambers softly behind himself. With his own thoughts of the letters he had unearthed pushed to the recesses of his mind, Picard first sought out the princess, whom he believed would be easier to track down than the bishop. The desperate, cursed man was one that Picard generally tried to avoid as it was - he knew the man sought an angel, and feared discovery for being what he sought. By his own system of beliefs, Picard did not interfere with matters that did not directly hold affect or influence on the royal family. They held his loyalty and intrigue, and so it was they who received his guidance and aid. Though he was sure Valentine and Cordelia would disagree with his choice to not remove the bishop's curse, he strongly believed that the man could find an angel to strike a deal with himself, rather than wait for one to hear of his plight and aid him.

Pushing aside his mind's wanderings, Picard first checked the princess's chambers, and then her brother's study. When both were fruitless, he descended to the grounds the knights trained on. Sure enough, the light-haired princess was training, her strikes on the dummies sure and true. A gaggle of pages stood to the side, observing her technique, and the advisor patiently waited for her demonstration to end. When the pages applauded and the knights in charge of them pulled their attention from the hard-working royal, he stepped forth.

"Your Highness," he began, heart stuttering at the fierce look on her face. It softened almost immediately, but his heart did not calm. "His Majesty requests your presence in his study."

"What does he wish to discuss?" Cordelia inquired, sheathing her sword on her hip and placing her shield on her back. "The impending meeting? Or perhaps the journey?"

"He did not say, your Highness," Picard told her apologetically. "He requested your presence, as well as that of the bishop, Argus."

"I see." Green eyes assessed the knights and pages assembled, and then fell back on the advisor before her. "Expect me shortly. I must finish my business here first."

"Understood," he responded with a nod.

Cordelia turned away from Picard, the action dismissive enough for him, and he gave the same small bow he'd given Valentine before exiting the training grounds. Now, he just needed to track down Cain. He was less familiar with the man's habits, though he knew enough to avoid him. As it was, he hoped he could find the bishop in a timely manner. It would not do to keep the royal family waiting, especially with such an important meeting on the horizon. What success could bank on the bishop's presence, however, eluded Picard. The only instance that came to mind was that the man would be there for their protection; he was a worthy opponent, and loyal to the throne. His only concern was whether or not that loyalty relied on an angel taking notice of and removing his curse. In truth, Picard knew little about the man.

---

With Picard's departure returned the fierce look on Cordelia's face, the face she wore when she meant business. Well, she had a sweet look for that, too, but that was generally reserved for when she was dealing with her brother. Regardless, the business at hand had to do with the new pages - finally, new recruits to fill the gaps in the sector and honour the kingdom. The peace that washed through Raphael, even with the assassination of the monarchs of Michael, meant that there were very few stepping up to be knights or warriors in their kingdom. The people saw little need, unable to understand that it was because of the knights and warriors that they had any peace and safety at all. Distressing, to say the least, when you wanted to uphold the peaceful ways of Raphael.

"I expect," Cordelia told the pages assembled, "that you'll all work hard on what I've shown you. You know who to go to if you have trouble."

She gestured to the assembled knights, and nodded to both groups. With a dismissing salute, she exited the training grounds, heading straight for her chambers. If she were to meet with her brother, it would not do for her to be in the clothes she wore, or carrying both her sword and shield. Finer clothes and her sword alone would suffice, though he surely planned to bring her to the meeting as his guard, which meant the shield would see the sun again in no time. The day was still young, even with the weather brewing over the horizon. At the very least, if it rained, they'd have sufficient cover for the two of them if Valentine were to hold the shield over their heads.

One change of clothes later, the mossy green of their kingdom draped over her form and cinched at the waist, Cordelia hung her family's shield on the wall beside her vanity. Reattaching the scabbard to her hip with the sword still sheathed, she nodded to herself. This would do, though the shield probably would have made Picard feel better around the bishop, Cain. She was no fool, and had noticed his aversion to the man. In her opinion, it was unfair; he did what he could to control his curse, and in turn also did what he could to use it for good. If an angel would just come and lift it, perhaps those who feared him would breathe a little easier. After all, the fear was of his curse, not the man himself. How many people saw past it, however, eluded Cordelia.

Prepared for the meeting, Cordelia left her chambers and made her way to her brother's study. She assumed he would already be present, and when she arrived, knocked on the door politely. Whenever work was being done in this room, the door was kept closed, away from prying eyes and listening ears. It was important that it be done, lest information fall into the wrong hands. When you ruled a kingdom, you could never be too careful. After waiting for an acceptable period of time, Cordelia opened the door to the study, surprised to see it empty. As he was not here, she could only assume he was wrapping up matters elsewhere. No matter, she'd wait at his desk. If he wanted the seat for himself, he should have arrived before her. Cordelia was not one to waste time, and hoped her brother and the bishop arrived soon.

Rather than work in his personal study - it was wonderful that they had had a room to give his sister her own, lest they be forced to work in the same room - Auberon found himself reading up on past documents in the castle's library. He yearned to find a solution to the strife between Michael and Gabriel, as he, like his sister, was dissatisfied with what had been done so far. Though he felt that Adeline was much deeper in grief than he, their rage was likely equal. To call it rage was a bit of an exaggeration, but neither would rest until things were made right. The assassination of their parents had not gone unnoticed, but it had gone unpunished. The responsible offenders were not caught, and he himself believed that little effort had gone into finding the offending party. It was not something as simple as poisoning; no, they had been attacked with blades, bled to death. It was a crime, and he intended to see the resolution through.

As he rolled up another parchment, the door to the library opened, revealing one of the maids. Petunia? No, that wasn't right. Frowning to himself, Auberon stood from his seat and waved his hand in acknowledgement that she was waiting to speak. The girl - and how odd it was to call her that, as she looked to be about his age - looked relieved, and stood straight, looking him in the eye. It was refreshing, to not be treated like you were to crumble any moment.

"Queen Adeline requests your presence in her study," the maid told him, hands clasped in front of her.

"Did she say it was urgent?" Auberon asked, tying the cord around the parchment and heading to place it in its rightful spot once more. Behind him, he heard the maid follow.

"No, your Majesty," she responded with hesitation.

"I'll be there immediately," he told her with a dismissive wave of his hand. However, he turned to her as she was leaving, stopping her in her tracks with his words. "Will other parties be present?"

"Sir Venisi, as well as two of the personal servants," the maid told him, turning to face him as she did so. "Is that all, your Majesty?"

"Yes, you're dismissed," Auberon told her, following the maid out of the room, but taking a different path than her.

While she was likely off to fetch the others, Auberon was heading straight to his sister's study. it was easy to come to the conclusion that the meeting was in regards to the letters he and Adeline had received from King Valentine, though he had not seen if his sister's was much different than his. He did appreciate, however, that they had received separate letters; they make rule together, but they made individual decisions as rulers. Why Adeline had summoned a knight and two servants to her study as well eluded him, but Auberon trusted most of his sister's decisions. At the very least, she knew better than to include their baby sister, Serenity. A child had no place in politics, love her as he may.

Stopping by his own study to gather the letter he had received from King Valentine, he wondered if his sister had sent her response yet. He had responded early this morning, sending his letter off with a trusted courier, and hoped that the other king received it in a timely manner. Letter in hand, Auberon knocked on the door, confused as to why it was ajar. He supposed it was a half-open invitation for entry, though it was sloppy in his eyes. Opening it fully for his entry, he greeted his sister with a smile and observed that the colours they wore today were the same. The black was to be expected - they were in mourning - but the muted blue that accented their outfits was identical. Perhaps it came with being twins, their similar decisions and feelings.

"Sister," he greeted, strolling over to her desk and lying is letter atop it. "I trust you have responded to King Valentine."

---

The Sheol Cathedral shook with the latest blast, causing loose stones to tremble and the people within and around it to cover their heads in fear. Work on the seal had been slow - decades in the making - and it seemed that they were finally making reasonable headway. Ichabod had watched many a demon and human fall to breaking the seal, and had raised each that was not too badly damaged shortly after their demise. Typically, it was demons that joined his legion of undead, though a few humans had made the cut and proven worthy. Unfortunately, many had been wasted with Lenore's flames, though their deaths were necessary; rebels would not be tolerated. Breaking the seal was priority, as was told to the kingdom by their king.

From his place beside Lenore on the second story of the cathedral, Ichabod stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He kept a watchful eye on his undead minions, and kept Lenore in his peripheral at all times. He worried for her, taking the mantle of archbishop, but was overall proud of her and her progress. She was going to accomplish what her predecessors had failed to do, and he was going to make sure of it. Though Ichabod himself could have taken up the role she now held, he was glad he had not; not only because he cared little for the title and its responsibilities, but because of the pride he felt knowing his Lenore was leading the greatest effort in the kingdom.

Lenore seemed to have reached a critical decision as she led them from their post, down the stairs and out of the cathedral. Not wanting to break her concentration on the task at hand, Ichabod remained silently for the journey to the castle. Perhaps she'd thought of something he had not - was the seal close to breaking? Even without her curse, the necromancer felt that his charge had an affinity for magic. While it was likely better that one of them had stayed behind to keep an eye on those slaving away at breaking the seal, there were other bishops present to do so. And should anyone have slacked off? They were sure to meet either his blade or her flames. There was no tolerance for those who did not do as they were told.

A cursed human greeted them inside the castle, ushering them further inside where they waited for their audience with King Erebus. Lenore was clutching her tome closely, a look of quiet distress on her face, and Ichabod felt a pang in his heart. There were only two he'd ever cared about - his beloved, and Lenore. Now was one of those moments when he had to remind himself that she was no longer a babe, and could hold her own and solve her own problems. Still, when her icy blue eyes fell on him with what could only be described as a pleading look, he broke the silence in their wait.

"I assume we've made considerable progress?" Ichabod inquired with an upward quirk of his lips. "Under your command, the kingdom has made more progress than it has in the past century."

Though not one to give direct compliments, Ichabod could certainly talk circles around one. Raising her meant that Lenore would understand this, and hopefully take his words as truth. He'd seen a lot in his time, after all; from his time before the kingdom was sealed to the time spent breaking the seal. Not once, though, had he ever put his life on the line to do so. He was glad that Lenore shared that with him; he'd already lost most of his beloved, and to lose Lenore would be all it would take to return him to the realm in which Lucifer himself dwelled in.

As the sun began it's ascent towards the heavens the citizens that lived under the protection of the kingdom of Raphael all began to stir in their homes, each of them eager to begin their daily ritual. Children were roused from their beds and made to groom themselves and leave for school, men left to earn coin with the trades that they shined best in, and the women who did not accompany the men went about doing house work or visiting one another for the latest gossip. Yes, it seemed as though everyone was busy with one sort of task or another. Everyone save for one. A lone man standing outside of the kingdom's church stifled a yawn as he watched everyone move about. To the unaware it would seem as though the man was lazy or had just woken up and was fighting off the delicious spell that was drowsiness. This could not be any further from the truth however; the man standing outside of the church was not lazy, but he was indeed drowsy. His drowsiness did not come from his recent awakening however, rather it came from the fact that the man had awoken hours before the sun had even begun to rise.

Cain Argus watched with silent fascination as people moved back and forth along the city streets, acting for all the world as though the they had no idea that the potential for war was upon their doorstep. Then again, perhaps they did know and simply did what they could to distract themselves from the thought. Cain honestly wasn't sure these days. A tug on the back of his cassock alerted the bishop to the presence of a young boy, one of a dozen children that the church had taken in when their parents were claimed by death for one reason or another. He turned and knelt down to look the boy in the eye, his tired and haunted expression replaced with one of reserved warmth and patience, "How might I help you, my child?", he said softly, "We didn't see you at breakfast Father Argus, is everything alright?". Cain chuckled softly at the boy's concern. He had indeed missed his morning meal, but in exchange for it he'd been able to find the time to both patrol the kingdom's borders before even some of the knights had risen, and file the necessary paperwork to ensure the church would not be in need of extra funding any time soon.

"I appreciate your concern, my child. I assure you that I am fine, after all, the light of God and his angels shines upon me as much as it does upon you, does it not?", The boy pretended to debate this, his face scrunching up in an exaggerated manner before he nodded a few times "Yessir". Cain smiled and reached up to tousle the boy's hair with a gloved hand, "Right, now then, don't you think it's time that you went back inside? Sister Freya will tan your hide if you miss you class you know.". As the child reentered the church Cain stood and turned back to the streets, his face an unreadable slate beneath a few loose strands of brown hair.

There seemed to be something going on in the castle. Servants hurried in their steps, people looking somewhat anxious and Serenity couldn't help but notice. She had been resting after a long day of studying in her room, the black nightgown she wore dull and definitely not something you would expect a princess to wear. There was no such thing as 'cute' for the young girl anymore. She would put her hair into a high bun and keep her clothing strictly black or gray, not even an accent of another color. The only the color of her hair and eyes showed any color at all it seemed, though beneath her clothing she held her own precious treasure.

The small locket her mother had wore as she died, slightly stained in blood. That was the ten-year-old's little secret. Serenity had taken away the locket before anyone had properly grasped what items the queen had been wearing when she was dead. Nity hadn't known at the time what had been going through her mind when she took it, wailing over her mother's dead body. At first, Auberon had tried to keep her away, it wasn't something a child should see, but the different advisor's had tried to talk over one another until she had escaped his arms. The front of the long white frilly nightgown she had been wearing was stained deeply in crimson, along with her hands and face.

Pushing those thoughts away, Nity slipped out of her bed and opened the door quietly to her rooms, she didn't want to be caught by any of the maids and herded back in. Not bothering to wear anything more than her nightgown and an off-white undercoat, she slipped through the palace halls, searching for her brother and sister. It was only when she arrived at the corner before her sister's study that she caught sight of Auberon, heading inside with a letter of some sort.

Once he had walked inside, she crept up to the still open door and peered slightly inside. King Valentine...? That was the King of Raphael, correct? Serenity couldn't help but wonder what the King had written, some kind of news connected to the Queen and King of Michael. Her hands clenched into fists.

(Ignore)

"That will do." the king, preferably known as Mel, mumbled as he twisted the last bolt that fixed the castle's watering system. The royal engineers had been at it all morning, trying to fix the faulty watering pipes that redirected almost all of the water to Mel's bathroom. The problem began with the decaying wooden beam supports around the pipes, that, eventually gave away and spilled the contents into the pipes that led to the king's tub. The least thing that the engineers expected was for the king, himself, to help them in fixing the watering system, but when Mel's voice resounded behind them, they had to move away. Although, one of them needed to lift the king in order for him to reach the screws and bolts.

It was an unspoken taboo, almost. No one spoke of the king's sudden younger visage. No one commented on why Mel looked younger than his bishop or even his knights. Ever since the ties between Michael and Gabriel were riven, the king had never stepped out of the castle. Not even once. Rumors whisper of dark magics, some mumble of the king's search for an elixir of immortality. All theories at best, but none really got close to the truth. As Mel stepped away from the pipes, he offered the engineers a quaint smile before he spun around and walked away. Almost everyone noticed that this morning, the king had opted to walk everywhere around the castle. Usually, he could be found in the Empyrion, the castle's library. But, while the people expected Mel to be tearing through scroll after scroll in search for knowledge unknown, as of now, the king sauntered around without any real direction. Mel reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly folded letter before he flipped it open. It was the seventh time that he had read the parchment from the kingdom of Raphael, and up to now, he couldn't put a finger as to why, of all the times, Valentine chose this opportune moment to bring the three rulers together.

"The foolishness of youth," Mel shook his head as he looked at the chapel located in the gardens, east of the castle keep. The clerics and deacons have already started with their morning taize prayer, causing solemn chants to reverberate within the castle's parapets of stone. The monarch strode once more towards the chapel as he entered through the steel double-doors, and took his place at the last pew in the sanctuary. The clerics, clad in brown habits, had their heads bowed in worship as the prayers were sung like a mantra. Immediately, his thoughts went back to the celebration between Gabriel, and Michael over the foundation of the Alliance Library, years ago. The same prayer was uttered in a solemn litany back then as well. "Kyrie, kyrie, eleison," the same chant escaped the king's lips as he closed his eyes in contemplation. The scars of the past threatened to gnaw at him, to leave him without sleep. He left teenagers to inherit the entire monarchy of Michael, and he would have as well shattered their entire childhood. "Young master Auberon, young lady Adeline." he sighed as he continued to go alongside the chants.

Then, his eyes opened. No, what he did was right. The visions were as true as they could get. Michael could have enslaved Eden without regard for human life. "Mea culpa, Percival, Nadine." Mel shook his head as he stood up, and made his way out of the Chapel of Lost Souls. "But, I am not sorry for what I have done. I spared you the pain of tyranny, my friends. At least, you died as heroes."

Mel exited the chapel upon the elevated ground of the castle. The view allowed him to see Gabriel in all its wonders, and indeed, he loved this kingdom with all that he had. The pain of Gabriel was the pain of the king. Serious, blue irises took in the kingdom from east to west, north to south until he saw the walls of the inner castle keep. There was something wrong with Eden, and even Mel had to acknowledge that. Valentine's presuppositions of an 'unwelcome' king was not impossible, but so was the opportune for an assassination on him. Raphael was a spineless kingdom that allied with the opposing empires under the guise that they were the enemies of the kingdom's enemies. They were cowards, so to speak. It was not impossible that Valentine allied with Auberon to take him down in the meeting place. Expected, but, at least, if Valentine did slay him with the sword, then, Raphael's monarchs displayed bravery that they lacked when it was needed the most.

But, no, Valentine and the twins were not his concern. No, it was his kingdom. If there was this 'unwelcome' king, then, he would need all the allies he could get. Not to mention, that they had no idea how to gauge the strength of this hidden empire. If anything, Mel would use the alliance; the alliance would not use him. Still, he needed counsel, and he would get to that soon.

The king stepped towards his throne room, passing by the eastern side of the castle until he heard some voices near the eastern gate. Mel headed for that location, knowing who he would meet. Mel peered over the ledge that overlooked the eastern gate, and he saw his bishop, Daniella, and one of his warriors, Lance. "The taize prayer in the chapel has started, and yet the bishop is not there to lead the worship?" Mel called out from the ledge as he combed his hair back so he could better see the two below him. "And, my warrior, chatting instead of guarding?" A small chuckle resonated from the monarch as he leaped over the ledge before landing gracefully in front of his two subordinates. "Well, at least, that's what my father would say," Mel spun around as he nodded to the two. "I'm sure you already know of the dove's significance. And, this is something I would need your counsel on. Lance, look for my personal servant, Ainsley, and have him bring tea. Chamomile, this time. Not that awful jasmine." Mel instructed to the young warrior who, technically, looked older than him. Towered over him, even. And, he turned to his bishop with a raised brow. "I will be with the honourable bishop in the throne room. Meet us there, lad."

And, with that, Mel bounded for his throne, and when he arrived there, he promptly took a seat on the medium-sized, gold-encrusted throne which the line of Fairchilds have sat upon. "Read this, and tell me your thoughts." Mel handed the letter to the bishop as he inhaled the scent of the rose that jutted out of his suit pocket.



"She's still in mourning, huh?" Rancor shook his head, buttoning his uniform and combing his hair back until the iconic single ebony strand hung in front of his right eye. Not a few moments ago, Rancor had just stepped out of the tub, and when the servant opened the door to his quarters, she got the shock of her life when the sight of the naked Rancor greeted her awake.

"Y-yes..." Penelope answered, turning her sights away. "A-anyway, the queen has personally requested for your presence."

"And, I can only imagine why." Rancor blew out a puff of air as he finished preparing himself. Soon, he had left the servants' quarters, and went off to kitchen in order to whip something edible as he always did in the past. "Would she be requiring cake and some tea?" the servant mused. Probably not. She was in mourning, and it would be terrible for her to enjoy something sweet in such a tragic affair. But, then again, if the queen negated the cake, then, he would eat it. And, Rancor found no problem with that. Thus, he prepared a slice of some confections, and a porcelain tea set before heading over to Adeline's study.

It's been a year since the tragedy that befell the kingdom. At that time, Rancor had only served as a general servant, but he saw the way Adeline changed from a jolly lass to the small ball of bitterness that she was now. Even her brother, Auberon, grew more isolated, and only on really rare occasions did Rancor see the prince. Even with that, the two monarchs had grown increasingly isolated as time passed by. The once warm princess had turned into a serious yet kind queen whose smile the servants had began to miss. Finally, he arrived outside of Adeline's study, hearing another voice inside which he could only attribute to that of king Auberon. They spoke about... letters and a king Valentine. Rancor raised his brow in wonder at the name. He had only heard of Valentine from the other servants, and it was only about how dreamy the king of Raphael was. However, Rancor's thoughts were interrupted as he spotted a tuft of blue hair sticking out from the door corner. It was princess Serenity!

Immediately, Rancor held the tray in one hand before kneeling in front of the timid monarch. Rancor offered a warm smile before addressing her. "Your Royal Highness," Rancor whispered as he looked from side to side. "Shouldn't you be in your quarters, Your Royal Highness? Your royal brother and sister are quite..." the servant searched for the proper word. "Busy, y'know? Now, now, if you become a good girl and scurry back into your room, I'll sneak a cake out of the kitchen for you."

Rancor stood up before knocking on the wooden door, announcing his presence. "Your Royal Majesties, requesting permission to enter. This is Rancor. I was informed that my presence was commanded." As soon as the monarchs would give their approval, Rancor would step right in, and offer the confections to the two.

The morning sun filtered through the window of Hadrian's bedroom, dancing along the floor, before running its luminescent fingers along the well made bed the lied empty. On the other side of the room Hadrian sat by a small table as he inspected his Estoc's blade, having gotten up well before the sun he had gone over it at least twice. Satisfied he sheathed the blade and let the small orb of light he had floating over his left shoulder for light wink out of existence, its tiny light being swallowed by the morning sun.

With a sigh he stood and buckled the weapon around his waist, tilting it in an almost instinctual fashion as to not let the length of the blade interfere with his walking. Satisfied he moved to his bedroom door and opened it quietly, stepping as lightly as he could on the wooden floor that awaited him in the main living area of the house. Cautiously he crossed the floor, descending the stairs with a practiced grace, he placed his feet so that the one slightly off kilter stair halfway up wouldn't scream out in it loud creak as another person put weight on it. Reaching the bottom, Hadrian couldn't help but smile, this was one of the first times he had gotten this far without doing something that would wake the probably still sleeping Olifina. However just as he was about to take his first grinning step towards the table, Hadrian heard a light snicker emanate from near the end of it. The source of this laughter surprisingly came from Olifina, who had seated herself at one end of the table, with a small mirror propped up on one side of her, and a plate with some fruit, sliced bread and cheese, sat on the other.

She was starring intently into the mirror as she chewed her breakfast, playing with her hair here and there. "Dad, you do know, I get up right around the same time you do. right?" she asked Hadrian as he gathered some of the bread that had been sliced, as well as an apple.

Hadrian considered this for a moment before taking a bite of his apple and speaking up "True I suppose, but that dosn't mean I can't try to be partially polite. Besides we both know what happens if I wake you you up too early."

Both sat there, before they both broke out in a large smile "Ha-ha, riiight." Olifina retorted as she went back to playing with a few strands of hair. "Besides" she continued "any later and we would be late."

Hadrian looked out the window and sure enough she was right, the morning was progressing faster than he realized. Finishing up their breakfast, both he and Olifina left to arrive at the palace not to much later. They were about to go their separate ways when they were stopped by a made, who quickly informed them of the queens request for both of their attendance. Both thanking the maid, Hadrian and Olifina quickly responded to the summons, bowing as they entered the room.

Running her fingers through the curtain’s lines, Adeline’s worries started to pile. It felt as if every minute of thought was running through a list of ‘what-if’ scenarios, attempting to shake her out of attending the meeting. Perhaps the thoughts were a sign of not to go, but she had pushed them aside. Trust Valentine, she told herself, and do it for your parents – your mother, your father, your sister, and your brother. Well, perhaps her brother wouldn’t care as much, but she wasn’t certain if he would care either. She didn’t know him well enough to be certain about her speculations on him.

Her head turned at the moment she was addressed. There was her brother, standing tall and patient with a smile and mourning colors. Adeline was sure that she did not disclose her clothing decision with her servants today, but perhaps he had the same idea as her. She returned his smile, though weaker and fainter than ever before. Then, she looked upon the letter on the desk, then back at Auberon.

“Yes, I have,” Adeline gently said, “I will be attending the meeting. I trust you will be as well?” A part of her had the impulse to smile a bit more due to her word choice, knowing that she just reflected a bit of her brother’s. It was humorous to her for the moment, but her lips returned to a weak smile. She then looked towards the door.

Entering the room first were Olifina and Hadrian, who bowed as they entered. It seemed that at the very moment they entered the room, Adeline made a partial change in tone, only a touch more cheery in sound than speaking with her brother. “Please, have a seat if you wish. Our discussion will begin shortly, and it won’t take long.” She looked up to Auberon, “Is that correct, Auberon?” She had hoped as well that since she summoned the persons in the room she would be the one leading the discussion.

In a short while after, Adeline heard a knock on the door, and a familiar voice. Ah, yes, Rancor was now present. “Permission to enter granted, Rancor,” Adeline had raised her voice just to be heard from beyond the door. She stayed at her desk however, expecting him to enter through after giving him permission. “Seat yourself if you wish,” Her voice became quieter, and back to being gentle, “It’ll only be a moment’s time.”

---

Caught by surprise, Daniella and Lance’s conversation ended shortly with the king’s presence. This caught both the bishop and warrior by surprise, though startling Lance into a panic more than anything else. For a moment, he thought he was getting in trouble, and then how would he explain himself? He wouldn’t had, he’d just accept the punishment to come for slacking off. Then he’d probably proceed to watch Daniella become excused from her bishop position, considering that, for all he knows, she doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.

Lance nodded towards King Fairchild, and said, “Will do, your royal majesty.” With that, Lance left with haste, leaving a baffled Daniella behind. She was under a particular spell of confusion from the moment she looked upon King Fairchild. His skin, appearance, and activity caught her attention like ever before. It was strange to say that he appeared younger than her or Lance. Was it the lack of sunlight or perhaps this new preference of chamomile over jasmine? Daniella didn’t have a clue about tea but she would be damn to learn that chamomile held magical properties for one’s appearance. She chuckled none of the less, though was quick to clear her throat and follow Caymdahr.

Daniella’s robes flowed with her movement, dressed in the colors white and accented green, carrying her crosier in one hand. Her hands gloved, her head high, and her blue eyes would stare upon those who she and the king passed by. They had similar expressions as well, or at least those she caught an eye on. Maybe it’s been awhile since she’s seen the king – yeah, that’s a good sturdy assumption, and the best one to use to keep herself from asking the king any questions about it. Though, if he had found a fountain or fruit of youthfulness, he wouldn’t tell her anyways.

Entering the throne room, Daniella remained attentive and took the letter from Caymdahr, then started to skim it. The letter did catch Daniella by surprise, her eye brows raised, and she looked back towards Caymdahr and his rose. Then, she returned back to the little, now reading it under her breath. Mouthing every word presented to her eyes. At first, her face read with confusion, but it all became clear to her as she looked back towards King Fairchild upon his throne.

“Your Majesty,” Daniella started in a calm tone, “I think that King Valentine is, to say, out of his mind to believe that all parties will sit together willingly for a meeting. Given our past relation with them, and theirs’ with the Kingdom of Michael, and furthermore ours with the Kingdom of Michael, King Valentine is either wishfully thinking or desperate for discussion. It has been awhile since the three kingdoms have corresponded though. If the information is so important to be discussed, I do not understand why King Valentine did not disclose it. By the choice of words and handwriting though, this letter does seem important…” She breathed in, holding back snarky remarks and jokes towards the fellow kingdoms in her statement. “An importance that should be attended to by any means necessary.”

She nodded her head towards Caymdahr as she finished her statement. “May I ask for your thoughts, your Majesty?” She held a smile towards him, eyebrows perked with interest, as she returned the letter to him. Daniella held onto her crosier tightly, her eyes still on the king. While she was tuned in to hear him, she couldn’t help but wonder about his youthful appearance, and how the other monarchs would react to this.

---

Lance stormed through the castle, his feet quick to find Ainsley. He knew very little about the servant other than key parts of his appearance: mid-twenties, hair down to the neck, and with a charming appearance. Or handsome, beautiful, whichever the word was? For a servant, he was. The king looked quite youthful himself, handsome and young again, though Lance was sure that he was older than Ainsley… Wasn’t he? Maybe he was recalling Caymdahr’s old man Tenebris, but Lance was sure he enlisted five years ago during Caymdahr’s rule.

Oh, of all things that seemed to be slipping from his mind. He’ll have to take more study into the kingdom’s history again. That wouldn’t be yielding him any promotion soon, not that the current task would either. Even if fetching Ainsley didn’t yield the promotion of Lance’s dreams, he was going to perfect the task to a t. If Lance does, who knows, maybe Ainsley will perfect his task to a tea. He proudly smiled to himself as he proceeded down the halls.

Now, if Lance was a servant, where would he be at this time of day? Working most likely, because servants rarely slept, right? However, the question of where one would be working came into play. He started going up and down the halls of the castle, knocking and asking at every other door for Ainsley, but no matter what the or lack of answer was there was no Ainsley. Alright, so, what other place would a servant be at? The kitchen – of course! He had hoped the servant would be there.

Reaching the kitchen, Lance stared into the room, eyes scanning around. “Ainsley, you here?” Lance inquired. “The king seeks your presence and tea.” He then cleared this voice and recalled the words Caymdahr said, something about a preference. “Chamomile this time, not that awful jasmine.” Lance lingered in the room, unwilling to go just yet. Perhaps he can walk back with the servant to strike up a conversation about the king and his appearance. Ainsley would have to have some idea, wouldn’t he? Though, considering that a king may not be that close with his servant, Lance would be wrong. It was worth a shot.

---

The girl’s face lit up the moment he spoke. She had expected him to speak, but his words swept her feet. She refrained from smiling as much as possible, forcing her words to come out.

“We have. The seal has become weak, capable of being broken within hours,” Lenore confidently spoke. She waved her hair over her shoulders, pushing most of it back other than her bangs. “I am glad to hear.” Lenore didn’t have a clue of how the kingdom was a century ago, but hearing that the progress was made by her own doing would be something that she would be glad of. If it wasn’t for the kingdom’s system of battle and cruelty, why, she would boast about it. However, the last thing she would want is a beheading for claiming too much credit. Lenore didn’t know the current king as well, but knew one thing true for all monarchs in the kingdom – they’ve acquired their thrones through barbaric ways.

Lenore dared not push her luck any further as to continue speaking about her accomplishments. Though she would like to, she wouldn’t wish to have the worst punishment for doing so: death. Not upon herself or Ichabod, though suppose it’d be alright if a servant’s head or two rolled to the floor.

“Ichabod,” She stated clearly, in hopes of occupying his attention, “This feat would not have been as easily accomplished without yourself or your capabilities.” She felt as if the statement spoke for itself. If it wasn’t for Ichabod there would be far more wasted units. That wasn’t a concern for the Kingdom of Lucifer, but was important for Lenore that as many resources should be used as possible. What would be better than reusing a resource after all? Though a corpse wouldn’t stand as long as a living creature, it provided effective enough during the seal weakening for Lenore to notice. She kept her arms wrapped before her, holding onto her books as she passed the time with small talk.

The Guérison Church came quickly into Picard's sights, despite his wish for the journey to take longer. It was in the middle of the nearest city to the castle, and there were often orphans running about. In the morning hours, many people were just starting their days, though there was certainly less of a bustle here than he'd seen in the farming towns. They were earlier risers, though more people were in the streets here, as they weren't working out in fields. The townspeople were carefree, and Picard greeted those he passed with a kind smile and nod. His clothes clearly set him apart as an aristocrat, and while it garnered some strange looks, the direction he was heading in spoke for itself. He wished that the bishop was stationed at Saint Raphael Cathedral rather than the Guérison Church, but a wish was not enough to change his trip into the city.

As he approached the church, Picard took notice of the man on the steps, gazing out onto the streets with an unreadable expression. Slowing his approach, Picard gathered his courage and reminded himself that his secret had gone undiscovered long enough. There was no reason for him to fear discovery now - it wasn't like the man could sense he was an angel, after all. Though he felt no guilt for not aiding in Cain's plight, Picard certainly feared the repercussions of discovery. Having steadied himself, he sped up his approach once more, stepping up to stand beside the familiar bishop. He clasped his hands behind his back, facing the brunette with a kind expression.

"King Valentine has requested your presence at the castle, Father Argus," Picard informed him, green gaze steady on the bishop. "He wishes to speak with you and Princess Cordelia in his study."

---

"Of course," Auberon told his sister, "the kingdom of Raphael has been nothing short of kind to us."

Before their conversation could continue, Hadrian and Olifina entered the room, bowing politely before the monarchs. The more somber tone Adeline had used with him was raised - a front, Auberon was sure - and a more cheerful one took its place. She informed the pair that the discussion would begin soon, and for the gathered parties to take a seat. Pulling a chair around to be nearer to his sister, the monarch sat himself down with a patient look on his face. As this was his sister's meeting, he would not sit directly beside her, but his chair was beside her desk, angled so that he could view both her and the servants she had gathered.

"This should be quick enough - we won't take much of your time," the dark-haired king told the pair, hands folded in his lap.

Shortly after, a knock announced what seemed to be the final party - he assumed that no one else had been summoned, lest they be rather late. He swore he saw a flash of blue outside the room, one that could only belong to their baby sister, but Auberon hoped that Rancor had spoken with her about trying to eavesdrop. Without their parents here to guide her, it was not only up to Adeline and Auberon to raise the child, but the rest of the castle as well. From what he had observed, his sister did not do well with rearing children, but he himself had more practice in doing so, being Serenity's favourite of the twins. Turning his attention back to Adeline but keeping an eye on the door, he told himself he would interfere only if the child didn't find something else to do other than lurk outside the door. She was only a child, after all, and didn't need to worry herself with politics or threatening tension between the kingdoms.

---

With a quick glance about the hall to ensure that no one aside from himself and Lenore was present, Ichabod let an easy smile slide onto his face at her praise. She was really the one that had done the most work, organizing the masses and locating areas of weakness in the seal to be focused on. All he did was protect her from those who sought to overthrow her as archbishop and raise those who had fallen in their efforts to break the seal. Some were not salvageable, but they were easily disposed of with Lenore's flames. There was an isolated part of the Sheol Cathedral specifically for this purpose, as unlike the demon who had cursed her, Lenore was not capable of controlling the flames she produced.

"I'm merely here to guide and aid you, your Grace," he told her honestly, aware of the kindness slipping into his tone. "Especially if it means utilizing my natural born ability."

The smile fell from his face a moment later, a blank expression taking its place, as the sound of footsteps came from down the hall. Since the kingdom had been sealed, the people within it had become more cutthroat. Whereas before being honest to one's emotions was a pinnacle of the kingdom, it was now considered - as it was in other kingdoms, he was sure - a sign of weakness. They had to be careful, to wear masks and flaunt their strengths. But were one to flaunt too much, they could be seen as a threat. It was a careful balancing act that had to be done, but Ichabod had had plenty of time to master it. Given her age, Lenore was doing exceptional with it as well. He couldn't be prouder, as little as he was able to express it.

"Do you think his Majesty has more important matters to attend to?" Ichabod asked Lenore quietly, wary of anyone eavesdropping.

What could the meeting entail? Surely it had something to do with the three kingdoms and that would mean... the cursed king of Gabriel would be there. How much the small princess loathed the king who had ordered the assassination of her parents was nothing that could be measured by an ordinary scale. Her parents and older siblings were her light... but ever since their parents' death, the whole kingdom had been enveloped in the shadows. The princess wanted to know what was going on with the kingdom, especially her brother and sister, eavesdropping would probably be the only way she could know this kind of information.

Suddenly, Nity heard someone's hushed voice behind her and she jumped. Kneeling on the ground behind her stood Rancor, the personal servant of her brother and sister. She took a step back before he told her how busy her older siblings were. Obviously they were busy! Nity would have just plainly walked into the room and sat on Auberon's lap if she hadn't thought that herself. Rancor said something about if she went back to her room she would get a cake from him... Cake was really, really good... But she shouldn't spoil her appetite for her next meal... And it was definitely bad to it at this time... But. But! A small pout slipped onto the princess's face unknowingly, her small fists clenched in her dress, she looked down at the floor.

Rancor stood up before anything was said, knocking on her sister's study door to announce his presence. There was no way the small girl was about to leave before finding out what was going on. After all, if Serenity didn't find out what was going on herself, no one would tell her. That being said, she would surely be caught again if she stood out here, so she searched for another route. The room next door was unlocked, how to one of the castle advisers she didn't remember the name of. The walls themselves were considerably think compared to the door, but these walls would have to do.

Slipping a hand to dust off the front of her dress, Nity started running off to the kitchen. The child had learned several different things while living in the castle, one being the idea of glass. Of course, the princess couldn't explain how, but when she put some piece of glass up to the wall, sometimes sounds get louder. So when the young girl reached the kitchen, she grabbed a hat from the break room outside of it and slipped it on, not wanting anyone to realize she was out of her room. The girl then squeeze underneath the busy servants, searching for a small glass cup she could use. It took a tiny bit, but she finally found one that was big enough for her ear.

She raced back to the side room to hear, though quite a bit of time had passed. She didn't know how far they had gotten into the meeting, but she would try her best to get the information she needed.

@Wisp
Cain was pulled once more from his thoughts by the sound of a voice calling to him. For a second the Bishop blanched as he was approached by Picard, his gaze vacant as his previously preoccupied mind taking a second to piece together and process the information it had just been presented with. "Ah..." Cain began before he cleared his throat, "My sincerest apologies there, Master Rayne, my mind has been elsewhere for just a bit too long it seems." He stated as a somewhat sheepish expression wormed its way onto his face. His royal majesty, King Valentine Regnier had requested his presence specifically, this both excited and troubled the bishop quite a bit. He started to ponder just what it was that was going on that would require his presence before his majesty and his sister, but chose not to dwell upon it for too long. It was not wise to keep royalty waiting, and Cain had a bit of a walk to go if he wanted to get to the king's study, lest King Valentine lose his patience.

Cain calmly and quickly swiped away any stray bits of dust or dirt that might have adhered to his cossack during his jaunt about the kingdom earlier in the day, " I guess i'd better be off at once then if i'm to meet His Majesty himself. Thank you for the notice, I truly am sorry though that you had to walk all the way down here just to get the message to me". It hadn't been the first time that someone had to be sent from the cathedral or even from the castle walls and into the city just to relay a message to the bishop, however Cain had been adamant about spending time not tending to the duties that came with his role assisting the church as much as he possibly could, even to the point of residing within the church's walls alongside his subordinates when not attending ceremonies in the cathedral or castle. It was a humble sort of living, more than likely less grand that what he could have expected within the cathedral, but it allowed him the chance to do as much good as he could at a time. No chore was beneath him. None too small. He was ready to do whatever it took so long as it got his curse removed.

In spite of this, as Cain began his trek to the palace to meet with the king, he couldn't help but lament the fact that the church could stand to at least be a little closer.

Hadrian bowed slightly as if thankful for the offer, but ultimetly made no motion to take a seat, instead he eleected to move slightly to the side and stand in a relaxed, yet attentive stance. Olifina however curtsied and thanked the queen for her offer and took a seat, her hands folding over each-other politely as she sat. Both Hadrian and Olifina turned their heads to the new entry into the room, Hadrian nodding in welcome to Rancor, Olifina however flashed him a smile as she nodded politely as well. As Olifina turned her head back to the monarchs, Hadrian elected to scan the room, his eyes dancing off each member in attendance. Something had obviously occurred, one could cut the forming tension in the air with a knife. glancing down at his seated daughter, Hadrian was more than sure that even Olifina could feel it, but she kept her face straight as she listened.

In fact Olifina felt it, not by the tension in the air, but by the subtle social ques that one learns to notice when spending the large part of everyday around certain individuals. An eye flick here, a sigh there, the little things that painted a bigger picture. Still she remained quiet and politely listened to the monarchs. Still, as if to comfort herself, she traced the callouses on her hands with the tips of her fingers, her hands still folded politely. It was a habit from her younger days, when she had first developed the hard patches of skin on her hands, and it now served her well in revealing the tension as she waited for the queen to speak.

Mel chuckled as he took back the letter, folding it neatly before placing it on the small round desk beside his throne. "Tell me, bishop, what are the chances for me to get a knife in my back once I attend that meeting?" the king stood up as he took off his teal long-sleeved upper garment, hanging it by the armrest of his throne. The rose sat safely in a water-filled vase on the desk as well. The king strode over to the back of this throne, pulling out an ornate-hilted curved sword, almost like a scimitar. In the center of the cross guard, an encrusted ruby filled the gap. As the king shed off his rather thick costume, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt, he breathed a sigh of relief as the cool air began to fan his skin. Then, he raised the hilt until a ray of sunshine pierced through it, causing a kaleidoscope of colors to dance on the hall ceiling. "The leaders of Michael and Raphael are naïve, easily swayed by emotions, they are. There is no doubt that young Auberon and his sister, Adeline, are still mourning for the death of their parents. They would be more than happy to slit my throat if only to sate their desire for vengeance. What's more, but Valentine and Raphael. We remember how we discovered Raphael's cowardice-- pretending to be allies with both kingdoms, ready to side with the winning one. At this point, I see no reason as to why Auberon would not marry off his sister to Valentine if only to secure an alliance between the two. And, their very first allied plot? To kill me. Or, that's what my father would say."

A deep sigh escaped Mel's lips whilst he swung the blade, causing the colors to spin and dart around the ceiling before he settled his eyes once more on his bishop. "These youngsters are easily tainted by vengeance, bishop, but at the same time, they might also genuinely desire a reformation of the alliances. On which side should we bet? Their adolescent and fluctuating emotions, or their far-fletched romanticist dreams? Valentine might be a coward, but he is not a stupid one. If he says something about an uninvited king, then, I am inclined to take it into consideration." Like a child, Mel plopped himself on his throne, arms behind his head in thought. "This is why I need your counsel on it, bishop. Would it be wise to attend this meeting?" Then, a smile formed on his lips. "Well, either way, our kingdom might be facing war. If ever they would slay me in that meeting, at least, all doubts have been severed. No more will my people think that Michael and Raphael are still our allies."

Mel shook his head as his cerulean eyes trained on the female bishop. "Tell me, Daniella, are the angels on our side in this matter, or are we still dancing with devils?"

---

"Your Royal Majesties," Rancor performed a half-bow before placing the tray on a nearby desk. Rancor observed the two monarchs who he had grown up with. While they did grow up in different conditions, the servant had seen Auberon and Adeline in their youth. The former was already a loner back then, but the latter's smile hadn't failed to inspire a lot of the castle staff. She bloomed like a rose back in the days, only for her rich, white color to be stained with red when the monarchs were assassinated. Rancor heard tales of how the siblings grew colder, and although Adeline still smiles at the people, never had she been able to grin with life like she used to. Only a few remember that smile, and Rancor was one of them.

Nonetheless, Rancor returned the greetings from the famous Hadrian and his rather beautiful daughter, Olfina. Unlike Rancor, Olfina had a rather specific duty other than just being a servant. She functioned as a portable bodyguard, and as such, she was one to be feared. Her reputation as Hadrian's daughter only made her appear more dependable to the monarchs, and rightly so.

Technically, Rancor possessed the lowest ranking out of everyone, and as such, he politely declined the offer for a seat, excusing himself as being able to pay better attention if standing up. Instead, Rancor took a stance near the tray of tea which he had prepared. As the tension in the air became heavier than steel, Rancor brushed a rather annoying lock of hair away from his face. In doing so, he mistakenly slapped his own nose, causing him to twitch in pain before straightening himself in hopes that everyone was too busy focusing on the twins for them to see his rather recent failure. As he waited for Adeline to speak, Rancor scrunched his reddening nose as he attempted to look serious and ready for whatever ill news the monarchs would bring.

The day had been a rather busy one, but that was always the case being the Head Monarch's personal servant. Just this morning some pipes had acted up causing a large ruckus throughout the castle. Something about the wooden beams decaying. It was no job for a king to be doing to fix the pipes himself, yet His Majesty had been adamant about it. So instead of tending to Caymdahr beck and call, Ainsley had focused on the supervision of the cleaning of the King's room and his midday meal. Ainsley himself felt that the foods' presentation had been slacking and that he would definitely make it have a comeback today. After finishing up helping the maids work on the Monarch's room, he headed down to the kitchen to supervise and help out where he was needed.

It was as he was working on this that he heard the Warrior Lance Nystrom's voice calling his name. King Fairchild wished to see him? Ainsley wiped off the apron he had donned and got to work on the tea, only to hear that he did not want Jasmine. It was such a shame that he had taken to the rumors throughout the halls. Some of the maids had said that the King liked Jasmine and that fault of Ainsley forever made him want to throttle the silly dress clad girls who only fantasized about becoming princesses all day instead of working.

But Ainsley shouldn't dwell on that, he slipped out the supplies to make Chamomile instead and got to work on it, making a batch in record time. For Ainsley couldn't be any less punctual than that. It must have taken a while for Lance to get to the Kitchens to find him, considering he wasn't there too often. Time had already been wasted. Slipping the tea into a suitably well crafted tea pot, he collected the rest of the necessary supplies onto a tray and walked up to Lance, having given the apron to one of the maids a while back. "Shall we go?" He didn't blame Lance after all for the time spent, he was just antsy to see the King.

The queen nodded to her brother, giving him no words after his statements. She wasn’t sure if it was proper to point out Raphael’s lack of trustworthiness or to simply go with it. Well, who was she to say? She had a degree of trust invested in King Regnier, given they had known each other for many years, but current events had suggested otherwise in this trust. It was obvious to her that he wanted the best for both of his fellow neighbors and his dedication towards an alliance would show this, but he’ll take the costs if it must. Even if the cost was between Raphael and Michael, why, he’d be tempted to take it, wouldn’t he? Not that Adeline was him, but if she was, she could feel certain the idea crossed his mind more than twice.

On the other hand though, her brother seemed to have a little more trust in Valentine when it came to this topic, which she found odd. It perhaps was his need to be diplomatic, as if she couldn’t manage it to do it herself, and by being diplomatic it meant that Auberon would take a liking to yet another diplomat… It didn’t work like that, did it? How else could she explain it, or think of it? Auberon did not communicate with many outside of his room and very little with those outside of the kingdom. He didn’t have the trust and relationship built over years of friendship, whether between teatime or public dances, but the simple instinct to trust in Regnier. That was it, wasn’t it? Adeline couldn’t wrap her mind around any other reason, or at least one that would make sense to her. Perhaps Auberon knew something more than she did, perhaps something kept away from her?

To have information hidden from her didn’t come off as a surprise, especially if Auberon was withholding it from her, and she rubbed of her neck out of the mere thought of discomfort. He wouldn’t purposely hide details from her as a monarch ruling by her side. That would yield poor ruler-ship and possibly bad politics, but she wasn’t certain of what Auberon had up his sleeve. Even when he spoke openly with her, more so than in the past, he would always have an aura of uncertainty to her. She had to trust in him by now. Within the past year and three months, he chose not to wrong the Kingdom of Michael and remained attentive to her wishes and words. It’s all she had to trust in other than their blood, but it’ll do.

Adeline looked upon Hadrian and Olifina, both loyal knight and lovely lady waiting patiently for her word. She took notice of Olifina’s small action, and in that Adeline had the kind reminder that she was not the only one nervous. She then looked over towards Rancor – she did her best to hold back a smile towards him, seeing now he had slapped himself, but couldn’t help but widen her smile. Adeline was quick to turn her smile into words, looking back upon her audience in the room.

She held her smile as strong as she could. It felt unnatural, but perhaps that’s what happens when you try to hide a laugh. Adeline looked back upon the tray. Would it be inappropriate to take a cup of tea now? She had everyone ready to listen to her, but she was queen, so she was allowed to, right? Of course, a part of her told herself, she deserved it after all. With haste, she made way to the tray and quickly sipped the tea, but the warmth couldn’t tame her nerves. Perhaps have a bit of cake – wait, no, they’re waiting! But… but a small bite couldn’t hurt anyone. So, she took a quick piece, consuming as quick as possible, and after chewing and swallowing Adeline turned back to her audience. Walking back to her main desk and clearing her throat, she set her fingers gently onto the surface. A quick glance at Auberon, then back at the servants, Adeline started speaking in her soft tone.

“It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?” She looked upon her parent’s – erm, well, her servants, which was an odd thing to call them. She looked towards the servants with her celestial blue eyes, shoulders rolled up with a deep breath taken. For a moment, Adeline appeared to be joyful, but all of it unraveled when she released her breath. It couldn’t be help. She was already having a difficult time living up to her father’s image after a year’s worth of time. However, she had to keep herself together. Mother would do so, father would too, and if she could do anything for them in this moment it would be to honor them in every aspect possible.

“I am sure you are asking yourselves why you have been summoned,” Adeline said, then looked upon each of their faces, including Auberon’s. “If any of you feel that we’ve been brought together through negative news and circumstances, I can assure you that that is not the case. That being said, it is still news, and it is important that you and fellow members of the kingdom are up to date on these matters.” She breathed in, looking back at Auberon, then back at the servants. “Myself and King Auberon each received a letter from King Regnier of Raphael, an invitation to the Round Table for a meeting between him and King…” She drew her words carefully, and after a moment of silence her voice dropped. “King Fairchild of Gabriel, under important and urgent news. The news was not disclosed in the letters, but it is enough to dare King Regnier into mentioning the Kingdom of Gabriel to both of us. Auberon and I made the decision – the decision to attend this meeting together. I understand if you may not agree with this choice, but between myself and Auberon, we feel it is only right to attend the meeting.” She breathed in for a moment, allowing the servants to sit in thought for a moment.

“However, we will not be attending alone. As advised by King Regnier, we will be taking two guards with us. As for the question as to why three of you have been summoned, there is reason for this. I am sure you all know that Princess Serenity cannot attend the meeting, but we do not wish to leave her unattended. I trust in all three of you equally in your abilities and skills, and I am here to request a service in watching over Serenity for the day while we are away. Auberon and I will then take two of you with us to the Round Table meeting." Adeline looked at Olifina, then Hadrian, and then back at Rancor, then proceeded to scan each of them with her eyes. "I believe in each of your abilities, but I request for someone who can protect Serenity while we are gone. Defensively, if... Gabriel, or I dare say Raphael, makes a move on our kingdom."

Swift to the tea desk, she took a cup of tea and had a sip. She cupped her tea and looked within it for a moment, and swirled the cup to watch the tea spin. The movement waved within the cup with ease, a flow that captured her attention for the short second. Adeline then looked back to her audience with a more confident expression. She could do this, and in fact, she already did. "So, may I have a volunteer for staying with Serenity?"

---

The bishop's eyebrows raised as she listened to her king, but remained in a stoical stance, unmoved by the words he spouted. Daniella wouldn't say that they were completely irrational, and definitely wouldn't say that they were out loud, but told herself that perhaps the king was slightly exaggerating a thing or two. He went on and on, talking about the youth – not like he was one to speak, apparently – and the plans rolled up their sleeves. While his speech sounded outrageous to her, it wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed.

Given, if there were any two kingdoms with close relations at the moment, the Kingdom of Michael and Raphael may be the closest, but it didn't mean that Raphael didn't care for Gabriel any less. At least it shouldn't if Raphael wanted to keep their reputation. Daniella thought to herself quietly as the king went on. If he was harmed, whether fatally or not, why, what would the kingdom do? Scurry around and about, mourn for their lost king and become desperate to find another monarch? That would do the kingdom no good. Besides, she felt that there was no finer monarch to take Gabriel's throne other than that of a Fairchild. Daniella waited for him to finish speaking, and when he did, she had her heart skip a couple beats.

She gripped her crosier in one hand and kept her head high. She dared not look towards her hand, and she dared not let her eyes stray to the floor. So little of movement could give her away if he looked too deep into it. If angels were truly sided with this, Michael wouldn't have been much of an issue, now wouldn't they? Raphael would show a more convincing favoritism towards Gabriel, and perhaps Gabriel's actions would have been agreed upon in the first place. Even if she wanted to insist to the king that the better was on their side, Daniella knew otherwise. If any moment came to be that the king was in harm's way in her sights, she would have to decide fight or flight, and fight would reveal that the demons and devils were on their side.

Holding herself together, she lifted her crosier from the floor and placed it back down again. "Your Majesty Fairchild," She stated, "I understand your concerns, but to make appearance in this meeting would benefit Gabriel greatly. If you are not present, they may make decisions without your knowledge, and that cannot be risked. If the news is so important, the kingdom cannot miss one step into knowing what it is. Though you may not be fully welcomed, it would be unwise of them to ignore you. If they choose to toss you aside then they will face those consequences, for my faith lies in this kingdom under your ruler-ship, King Fairchild..." She nodded her head down, then looked up to him. Her expression softened. Mellurium's eyes caught her attention in a brief moment. She seemed stunned, perhaps by his grace and appearance, or the color of his eyes that captured her attention, but she dared not to dwell on them for too long. Daniella took an audible breath in and out before finishing her statement.

"If they dare harm you, may they receive a punishment in seven-fold; I believe the angels are sided with us, but above all else, Gabriel watches over us." Daniella looked upon his brows to his head, then to the top of his throne, and set her unoccupied hand across her midsection. "What do you think now, your majesty?"

---

Lance was taken by surprise to see Ainsley and without much for a greeting. It didn't really bother him though. The servant appeared to be prepared and ready to go quickly, but what else was to be expected from the king's servant? Only the finest of servants, and Lance could see that in this man.

"Why, of course," Lance smiled and nodded, then started to make his way to the throne room. He assumed Ainsley followed him during this time, and while Lance didn't necessarily rush, he didn't wish to stroll through the castle either. He couldn't keep the king waiting for too long, but at the same time, he was hoping to have some questions answered. "Hey, so, Ainsley," Lance started, taking his best approach to a casual conversation while making way to the throne room, "You've seen the king lately, haven't you? He took me by surprise – the king's appearance, you know. He looks a lot younger than I remember... Maybe he woke up on the right side of the bed? What do you say?" He tried not to look at the servant eye to eye and not become too loud, but to just say enough in given time in hopes that he could get even the slightest of insight from Ainsley.

---

Standing with straight structure, she nodded to Ichabod's words. She dared not smile at them, but she felt warmed by them. She had come to enjoy this warmth. It couldn't compare to what a flame could do, but it was close to the slightest, faded memory of a touch to her skin. She would call it sunlight if she could, but she couldn't say that certainly. Growing up within the sealed version of Lucifer made it hard for her to remember that sunlight is a thing, just as much as weather and any other outdoor occurrences. Dandelions, rain drops, and moonlight too, these were things that the Kingdom of Lucifer once knew. Nowadays, all of that belonged to old stories and passages saved from a time long ago.

Lenore continued to cling to the materials in her hands. It won't be much longer, she thought to herself. In only a matter of time would the Kingdom of Lucifer take to the surface again.

She turned her attention to Ichabod again. Lenore heard his faint voice come to her, and it was if she tossed all her thoughts aside just to tend to him and his questions. However, she could not yield him a fulfilling answer, or at least one she would be pleased with.

"I ask myself the same question," Lenore shrugged. She looked towards the door and then back at Ichabod. "If anything," She said softly, "I will summon myself under urgent means." She paused, looked back at her books, then at him. "It's urgent, is it not?" Lenore only expected one kind of response from him, and she expected him to say yes. As she waited, she started to tap her foot in the room, leaving a partial echo between the silence of her and Ichabod.

"It was of no trouble - King Valentine is not one to request a presence without a great importance behind it," Picard told Cain, a half-smile on his face. "As I must return myself, I'll walk with you."

Though he really would have rather not traveled with the cursed man, there were only so many ways to return to the castle, and the route that the bishop seemed to be taking was among the fastest. It was certainly one of the more direct, and as they were traveling on foot, that was definitely preferred. The last thing Picard - and apparently Cain as well - wanted was to keep King Valentine and Princess Cordelia waiting. King Valentine had been waiting for the last of the responses from the other monarchs when Picard had departed, and he hoped that he had received them in his absence. There would be enough waiting upon arriving at the Round Table, assuming all parties agreed to be present, given the speed of couriers and passenger pigeons.

As he walked, Picard couldn't help but feel a bit of nervous energy building inside of him in regards to the meeting. The people of Gabriel had already murdered two monarchs - who was to say they wouldn't assassinate more? By inviting King Caymdahr to meet with his own king, Valentine, as well as the new king and queen of Michael, he felt like a great risk was being taken. Could the man really be trusted? Though there was no word on whether he had personally ordered the assassination or not, the advisor felt that it was not worth the risk. King Valentine was a man of peace and good will, however, and could not be swayed from his decision, no matter how he try to change it.

---

It was of little surprise to Auberon that Hadrian declined the seat, though he was less familiar with Olifina to make any assumptions on her move. She sat, folding her hands in her lap, and looked very attentive. Whereas he knew his sister was nervous, the king on the other hand was just tense. He was neither nervous nor anxious, but he was upset that they would be meeting with King Caymdahr. Though he trusted the word of King Valentine - his kingdom was one of peace, after all - he had much less faith in a man who had done so little in the wake of his parents' deaths. In fact, were he to have it his way, he would form an alliance with King Valentine, but leave Gabriel out entirely, no matter how the other king would wish to involve all parties. It was the one problem he had with the other king, something he knew from his lessons that had been inherited from his father.

Rancor brought with him tea and cakes, something that Auberon knew would entice his sister, though he made no move to take anything on the tray for himself. Though he would perhaps have tea before they left for the Round Table, he had little interest in it at the moment. Like Hadrian, the servant declined seating, standing near the tea to pour a cup for any who asked for it. When he all but slapped himself in the face, Auberon could only lift an eyebrow, though he said nothing in regards to the man's embarrassing action. It wasn't productive to call out or ridicule him for it, never mind that it would be cruel to do so. His sister, on the other hand, seemed to find the action amusing. It didn't lessen the tension that showed in her shoulders, but it did widen her smile, and he couldn't help the small smile on his own face in response.

Predictably, his sister deviated to the tea and cake, the room waiting patiently as she quickly indulged herself, then brought herself back to her standing point behind her desk. She began with an unrelated question - perhaps a further sign of her nerves - and then dove into the issue at hand. Auberon's attention fell away from the door completely, having had it closed behind Rancor, and focused fully on Adeline. She spoke of the letter and the requested meeting, and he struggled not to correct her in referring to the kings by their surnames. Perhaps he had received different tutoring than her, but he had been raised his whole life preparing to take the throne - whether in his own kingdom or that of another through marriage - and struggled with her address of the kings. He, too, struggled with the idea of meeting with King Caymdahr, and felt comforted that his sister was no kinder in the idea. The only thing that she managed to surprise him with was her mention that Raphael would attack the kingdom - he disagreed, and was surprised by her lack of faith in the peaceful kingdom.

After she had finished speaking, Auberon prepared himself to speak, though it seemed she had one last thing to say. A question posed to those gathered - no, this would not do. He would take command now, and delegate duties. He would respect that Adeline wished for them to make the decision themselves, but given the skill sets of each person present, he did not dare consider them for anything other than the roles in his mind.

"If I may," Auberon began, standing to address the room, "I do not believe Raphael will be so cruel has Gabriel has been. Their kingdom thrives on peace, and from my discussions with King Valentine, their military is lacking. No, I believe the only threat posed here is Gabriel."

Giving that a moment to sink in, Auberon walked over to the tea tray on the corner of his sister's desk, taking a cup for himself and returning to the chair he had previously sat in. Again, he remained standing, and after taking a sip of tea himself, he addressed those gathered again. They each had their strengths, and this needed to be taken into consideration when placing them in jobs.

"My personal recommendation - and it is just that, a recommendation - is that Sir Hadrian and Rancor attend the meeting with myself and Queen Adeline, while Lady Olifina remains with Princess Serenity."

His reasoning was simple - Hadrian was more than capable of defending both himself and Adeline, but should something happen, he'd heard what Rancor's blood could do. As for Olifina, she was a lady-in-waiting, and it was only proper that in the queen's absence, she tend to the princess. He doubted his sister had thought that far ahead in her summons, though he hated to think so little of her. Their father had pampered her and Serenity, and in Auberon's mind, weakened them. As he had been taught, ruling was like a game of chess - each piece's abilities needed to be taken into careful consideration before a move was made. And sometimes, sacrifices had to be made.

@Dracogenius @Wisp
Cain gave Picard a polite nod and soft smile as the the younger man made his intentions to walk alongside the bishop known. The trip was as rapid as it was uneventful, as both parties moved along the fastest route they had available to them and focused solely on getting to their destination in as timely a manner as they could without going into a run. There were no words passed between the two, as both men seemed more content to focus on their own inner musings until reaching the castle walls that housed His Majesty and his sister. At the gates Cain was treated to a surprise in the form of one of his subordinates, a priest from the cathedral by the name of Leonard, holding in his hands what appeared to be Cain's vestment.

The bishop's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he realized that he'd neglected to bring such an important item along. He accepted the item graciously and stood by quietly as his own subordinate gave him a brief but severe tongue lashing for his absentmindedness. Some may have found it odd, a Bishop allowing an underling to chastise him, however Cain allowed it all the same, as he truly was in the wrong to forget the item. After being allowed through the gates, Cain donned the vestment, running his gloved hands over the rich green and accents of gold that made up the silken fabric to remove any wrinkles that might have been present as he entered the building.

After continuing on, the bishop found himself stalled one last time by the royal guards which stood outside of the king's study, who gave him a brief but thorough search for any hidden weapons. Cain may have been a bishop, but that did nothing to change the laws of the land, laws which very plainly stated who was and was not allowed to carry a weapon around His Majesty. With nothing left standing in his path Cain entered the study where his king await, taking approximately three steps in before he took a knee and bowed his head. "Hail his Royal Majesty, King Valentine! Hail her Royal Highness, Princess Cordelia!". Cain stayed rooted to the floor, not daring to rise unless granted the permission to do so, his head dipped down further as he kept his eyes to the floor, not daring to meet the king and princess' eyes as his lips parted to speak once more, "My deepest apologies if I have been keeping you waiting Your Majesty, and the same to you, Your Highness.".

Ainsley followed after him a step or two behind. The Servant may have been one of the highest ranking, but he was still under in terms of occupation to the Warrior. The fact that Lance had gone to call on him could only mean that someone of higher rank, such as King Fairchild, must have requested him to do so. What was the King doing to get the Warrior to do such a meddlesome task in the first place? Ainsley couldn't help but think this was highly improper, which only made the Servant sigh.

If Ainsley could have rushed, he most certainly would have, but common sense in the royal castle said otherwise. He moved with a brisk pace, doing his best to keep the anxiousness he was feeling off of his face. When Lance tried to start conversation, Ainsley turned his head, continuing to walk at a steady pace. Surprise? That didn't even cover it, the King had always been surprising in everything he did. The man had always seemed to be troubled after the death of the previous monarch, Ainsley couldn't help but note. Only a day or two after Caymdahr had sent out the assassination group, he had let out painful cries and when Ainsley had brought him a midnight drink, even the Servant's composure had crumbled for a second. The man had seemingly aged backward into a teenager.

It was not that Ainsley didn't know about magic and all of its wonders, but it didn't seem like Caymdahr had wanted to turn back to the adolescent he had been reduced to. His unwanted powers could only remind the man himself of his past and the devilish fight he had been a part of. But that had been the only time he dwelled on the matter, who was to say whether the King had such a demonic influence or not. Ainsley felt that since he had already put so much effort to support his King, he would stick by the man until the end. It was the steadfastness of the castle that seemed to keep him sane compared to the thug life he used to live.

"Sir Nystrom, I do not dwell on the reason for King Fairchild's changes in appearance, but if I may say so, he does seem awfully dashing." That was the only comment Ainsley gave before they reached the throne room. He gave a quick knock on the door to announce their presence, then opened it. He moved forward into the entryway, then moved a few feet to the left to give Lance room before bowing low.

"Your Majesty, I have arrived in response to your summons. I have the chamomile you requested." Ainsley didn't dare look back up until he was accepted, but recalled the memory of the room when he first arrived. The King had taken off all of his royal robes and was only in a sleeveless shirt, not only that, the robes were only hung on the back of the throne. Unless he assisted them, they would be prone to wrinkles soon! Ainsley hadn't always been so couth a person in his adolescent years, but six years as a servant in the castle had given him so somewhat problematic, but efficient habits.