Hero

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Happy New Year
The Prophecy of Anani

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

The Meeting of Wolves

Leaving Rosemary behind had been more difficult than Sonia had anticipated, but the girl eventually let her go free after Sonia promised she would be back as soon as possible. The Templar made sure to move with purpose when she left, continuing to coordinate the castle’s security. Commander Schneider’s vacation couldn’t have come at a worse time, but she would rather cut her good arm off than leave things to devolve into chaos. She barked orders where they were needed and reunited with the archbishop, and to her relief, he agreed to stay at Veradis Castle overnight. Why the archbishop tried to insist on returning to Cathedra Incepta now of all times, who knew, but it was one less thing to worry about.

But her work was not done. Instead of returning to her princess’ side, Sonia’s path led her to the Commander’s office. As the man was away, it was offered to Dame Irina, who waited for her. The woman scratched under her eyepatch as she entered without so much as a knock or verbal warning. She closed the door behind her and casually strolled in, throwing herself onto a chair and letting out a loud yawn as she put her feet up on the arm of the second chair next to her.

Once she was comfortable, she finally gave Irina her attention. “You look like shit,” She told her after giving her a glance.

Irina only glanced up as Sonia barged in, scrolling through something on her tablet as the Templar of Light made herself comfortable. The office was illuminated now only by the lamp on the desk and a low fire smoldering in the hearth, casting long shadows over Dame Irina’s face. She was as prim as ever, rod-straight in her chair, but she had faltered a little, leaning her cheek on her hand as she tapped away at whatever she was working on.

Dark circles were beginning to form under her eyes, but her gaze was as sharp as ever when she looked up once more at Sonia, fixing the other woman with a long stare before quirking an eyebrow. “Said the pot to the kettle,” she droned.

Sonia scowled at the remark, but her expression dropped to something resembling concern. Her eye studied Irina’s face for a moment before she spoke again. “I thought you’d be as thrilled as I was that we got to stretch our sword arms outside the arena,” She admitted.

Irina rolled her eyes, fixing Sonia with a look. “I was,” she reasoned, “It’s doing it inside Duke Giles’ ballroom that’s the problem.”

She leaned back in her chair, picking the tablet up off the desk and flipping through something on it. “Battle’s a lot more fun without all the shit that comes after,” she continued, sounding exasperated. “A bunch of heathens launch an all-out offensive on all the Scions at once and now I’ve got investigations to conduct, a search to organize, prisoners to deal with--”

“Prisoners?!” Sonia sat up so quickly that the second chair got kicked a good distance, her eye sparkling at the idea. “I can help with that!”

Irina scoffed, a ghost of a smirk sneaking onto her face. “You have your hands full,” she countered, a laugh almost escaping her. “You’re on babysitting duty.”

Sonia outright rolled her eye. “Mine actually listens to me when I tell her to stay put, unlike your raggle of kids running around and tripping over themselves,” She pointed out. “Apparently, you made waves. The church squire said your lashing was so bad you made one of them cry.”

“I bet it was Chaudoir,” Irina shot back, shaking her head. “That little thing shudders every time I walk by.”

She threw up her arms defeatedly, huffing. “Honestly, they’re like a bunch of squires themselves,” she complained, “Half of them treat their Scions like their boss, half treat them like children, and the other half leave them for dead. Am I losing my touch?”

“Yeah, you got three halves. I thought you were better at math than me.”

“Shut up,” Irina glared.

“Speaking of squires,” she added, leaning over to fetch something from a messenger bag at her feet. She produced a shimmering white stone - Sonia’s armour crystal - and tossed it irreverently across the desk. “Thanks, by the way. You’re all clear.”

Sonia ignored her crystal for a moment, raising her eyebrows at Irina. “This was a good, real test of danger that I’m sure a majority of them haven’t ever experienced,” She noted first. “It’s a shame it came at the expense of Ulysse, but that’s why you’re here; now that they’ve experienced the worst-case scenario, they’ll come to understand your training and its importance.”

Before she would get her crystal back, Sonia rummaged around in her pockets and pulled out what looked like a bulky charger of some sort. It was almost the size of her hand and colored black and gray with a notable plug sticking out of it.

“As for my crystal, I’ll trade you,” She placed the device carefully on the desk with her right hand while her left snatched up her crystal. “This was one of the devices plugged into the wall. It isn’t bugged and didn’t seem to do much but light up when I plugged it in earlier, but this was the source of that…uh…the fuck is it even called when a Scion loses their power?”

She paused for all of two seconds before dismissing it and continuing, “This thing lit up with about a dozen of them–and those were the ones I could see–and shortly after was when Rosemary told me she was in pain and she couldn’t use her magic.”

“You call it a big fucking problem,” Irina answered gravely, turning her attention to the device Sonia produced. She examined it for a long moment, turning it over in her hands, before tucking it away in her bag.

“I’ll get the nerds on it,” she concluded. She returned to the tablet again, tapping a few times and turning it so Sonia could see. The screen showed a blueprint of the ballroom with markings written all over it: notations for locations and direction of travel, as well as a few notes.

“They came in by helicopter,” Irina murmured, voice low and disbelieving. “They mobilized dozens with their own weapons, armour, gear, they set up those devices in the room, and all right under our noses.” She sounded as shocked as she was ashamed.

She fixed Sonia with a deadly serious look. “This had to have been a huge operation. One with coordination, funding, one that took time to plan and a lot of moving parts to execute.” She shook her head, rubbing a hand down her face. “We’re not dealing with street preachers and rowboat pirates anymore.”

Sonia rested her elbows on her knees as she looked down at Irina’s tablet, eyebrows furrowed as she looked and listened. Her tongue rolled over her teeth as Irina concluded what she had to say, and she gave Irina her full attention.

“Hard to believe the group of crazies suddenly had the resources and manpower to accomplish all that,” She frowned. “What bothers me is how seamlessly they managed to pull it off. No alerts, nothing suspicious leading up to the moment, no signs of an attack…They came in like leaves on the wind.”

It bothered her a lot more than she wanted to admit. “The amount of coordination to pull something off like that is terrifying–they got through everyone. Estora, Veradis, Rosaria, Doumerc–I had to lock people up because nearly every noble Prince Rowan sheltered wanted to know how something like this could happen.”

Irina nodded. “Join the club,” she commented wearily, putting the tablet to sleep. She sat silently for a moment, as if debating something, before she spoke again.

“There’s more,” she said in a low voice, shifting in her seat. Her expression grew serious. “Ulysse’s crystal was missing from his body. All we found was a gaping hole.”

Sonia’s jaw outright dropped. “A hole,” She repeated in disbelief. “I knew Ulysse was a cocky bastard, but to think someone could do that to him…”

As she trailed off, she seemed to remember something. “You don’t think that same group is behind those robberies, do you?” She asked, tapping her chin absentmindedly. “The ones that mugged that group of church knights and took their armor? Like…what, two months ago or something?”

“A Church Knight’s armour is a whole different beast from a Templar’s. Removing Ulysse’s crystal was no easy task, and that’s without asking how they even knew how to do it.” Irina commented, tapping her fingers on her knee as she thought about it. “If it’s the same group, then they must already have been present inside the Federation. Which I suppose makes sense; no helicopter is making a round trip from Kaudus to Veradis without stopping to refuel.”

Irina tilted her head back and forth, deep in thought. “And I don’t imagine your everyday brigand could have managed to separate a Knight from his armour, either.”

Sonia let out a huff of disbelief, trying to wrap her head around the situation. “The amount of planning is what gets me nervous. Every detail on their end was perfect,” She couldn’t help but state the obvious, but having it all laid out turned an already bad situation worse. “They had something that canceled the Scions’ magic, grabbed Ulysse’s crystal and his Scion…even with the amount of people they lost, they were highly successful.”

She scratched her chin, frowning. “This is bad.”

Irina’s frown matched Sonia’s, her eyes narrowed at the lamp on the desk as she mulled over all the grave details of the evening. “I fear it might be worse than it seems,” she murmured, turning her gaze to her friend. “I had Sirs Edmund and Tyler in here earlier. Sir Edmund had some ideas about the identity of the attackers, but Sir Tyler concerned me much more with his testimony.”

Her fingers stopped tapping. “He seems to think they have the power to control time.”

The laugh that came out of Sonia was a strained one, something that came out unwillingly as the woman hung her head in disbelief. She knew Irina wasn’t the type to lie, but she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not just that, it went against the entire Scion system that Incepta had established. After a few seconds of taking the information in, she raised her head.

“The Goddess’ chosen is supposed to be the only one capable of such a thing. In our case, the only person who should be able to do such a thing is Prince Lucas,” Her words were low and quiet. She wrung her hands as she sat up, completely at a loss.

Irina took a deep breath. “Sir Tyler seems to think these are the same people who took Scion Theodore. He thinks they somehow stole his power - and that they want to do the same to Scion Nadine.”

She shook her head, as if trying to dispel the very thought. “Of course it sounds ridiculous. I’d much sooner believe Scion Lucas had a poor handle on his power than that anyone could somehow extract the Goddess’ blessing from a Scion, let alone preserve such a thing after his mantle passed on.”

A ghost of worry swept over Irina’s face, but vanished as soon as it came, like a shadow passing over the moon. “But I don’t have any better explanations,” she added, tapping something new into her tablet. “Disrupting Scion Lucas is one thing - he was inexperienced and frankly, probably drunk - but getting a force of that magnitude inside our perimeter without raising any alarm, and planting those devices after our sweep… That is quite another.”

As much as Sonia wanted to disagree, it made too much sense. It actually explained a lot, the more she thought about it. Theoretically, if someone who could manipulate time went in and maneuvered around everyone and everything, how would they be able to catch them? There was only one solace she had.

“I don’t think the prince could have accomplished much considering he’s had Incepta’s gift for, what, a week?” Sonia mused out loud. “They must have known that and taken advantage. Even without the time stuff, they’re calculative. Every hole in their plan was covered and every weakness of ours was exploited.”

She paused for a second. “But it must be limited, unlike Scion Theodore’s power. A saving grace, otherwise I think if they wanted to steal the other Scions without contest, they would have,” She said slowly. “Then, I wonder what they wanted with Ulysse’s crystal. If you can replicate the Goddess’ power, why bother with a Templar’s armor?”

“I don’t know,” Irina sighed, sounding almost breathless. The headache she’d been working on ever since the adrenaline wore off was getting to her, as was the increasingly convoluted situation. “What I do know is that we need answers. Carefully, but quickly. I know at least one person to call.”

Sitting back in her chair, she heaved a long breath, looking suddenly very fatigued. “No amount of puzzling tonight will get us anywhere without more information. Go to bed. You’ll need your strength going forward.”

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, Sonia outright pouted. “If you’re going to stay up, I’ll accompany you. I don’t think I can get any semblance of sleep until I know for sure my princess is safe here,” She huffed, crossing her arms.

“She isn’t safe here,” Irina stated bluntly, fixing Sonia with a hard stare. “She isn’t safe anywhere. I think we were fools to think she ever was - that any of them ever were.”

Irina closed her eyes for a moment, as if a wave of pain ran through her. After a second, it seemed to pass, and she opened them again. “That’s why she needs you with her, and not here losing sleep with me.”

Sonia stared at Irina. “That doesn’t mean I should just leave you here to deal with this alone,” She reminded her.

Irina’s facade cracked a little, the faintest hint of fondness seeping into her expression as she smirked. “Go to bed, you sorry old wolf,” she chuckled wearily, “Out with your sentimental nonsense, before you break a hip.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t a terrible idea; there was a lot that happened and she’d think better with some sleep. The other woman threw her hands up in defeat, knowing that Irina couldn’t be reasoned with. “Fine, fine, fine, I can see when I’m not wanted, you frigid dog,” Sonia retorted as she stood. “As acting Commander of the Veradis Royal Guard, I hereby dub you ‘the head bitch in charge’ so I can nap.”

Irina laughed under her breath as she stood in turn, seeing her friend out of the office with somewhat less than the expected formality. Just as Sonia was about to close the door, however, some of the darkness she’d briefly forgotten came over her again, and she stopped her friend with one last message.

“Keep your princess close,” she charged her solemnly. “These are strange times.”

Sonia waved her words off lazily, albeit her own expression was serious. Irina wasn’t wrong, the talk of stolen powers and an enemy deliberately targeting Scions was something straight out of her nightmares. And as tempted as she was to go ahead with interrogating some of the prisoners, she knew her heart wouldn’t be completely in it. Instead, she eventually made her way back through the halls to the Princess’ room.

Said room was something Sonia always thought was plucked straight out of a fairy tale. Elegant and colored gold and pink, It was clear that a majority of the decorating budget went into ensuring the little princess was surrounded only by the finest furniture. Her bed was colossal and the one thing Sonia always thought was a little overboard, but instead of finding her princess drowning in plush pillows, she was instead playing with some of the flowers left on her bedroom table. The white lily’s petals swayed as Rosemary waved it around, strong enough not to let go of its petals no matter what she did. Sonia had no real preference for flowers, but the lilies of the castle always calmed her in some strange way.

At her entrance, Rosemary perked up significantly, immediately running up to her. “You’re back!” She exclaimed happily.

“And you’re not asleep,” Sonia replied as she knelt down, scooping the princess up into her arms. “You promised you would try.”

“I did try!” Rosemary insisted as Sonia placed her down on her bed. Sonia held her hand out for the girl to hand her the flower, but Rosemary surprised her by clutching the lily to her chest. “I wanna stay with it. Grandpa Aaron said this one was his favorite.”

“Yeah, but you don’t want it to get smushed while you sleep, right?” Sonia asked.

The question had Rosemary thinking, and eventually, she reluctantly handed it over. Instead of placing it back in the bouquet, Sonia respectfully placed it on the closest bedside table. “Can you sleep here?” She asked timidly.

“That’s a good idea. We haven’t had a sleepover in a while, right?” Sonia asked. “I’m just going to take a shower, then we can sleep. Okay?”

Rosemary nodded, all too happy to hear Sonia agree. “Yeah!” She shuffled over, moving around her pillows to make room for Sonia. “On waves of gold, She waits for me…The sands of time, shift to the sea…” She sang to herself.

Sonia was taking off her templar jacket when she heard Rosemary’s song. “Where’d you hear that?” She asked, not recognizing it.

“The lady from my dream sang it to me.”

“Lady?”

“The one I told you that was crying. But she was happy this time and she taught me the song!”

Sonia didn’t know what to make of that. It could have been the night’s events muddling her judgment, but something about that felt off. “Who was the lady?”

“I don’t know.”

“She didn’t give you a name?”

“No. I told her my name and did my curtsy and she said I was a-door-ah-bule. And she had beautiful hair that was like sunlight and her dress was so pretty! And she was so nice to me–we played on the beach and sang songs and then she let me brush her hair.”

Well, that sounded harmless enough. And if it was a dream, maybe Rosemary was dreaming of someone that looked like her mother. The deceased Princess Penelope did have blonde hair, and considering she passed shortly after giving birth, it would make sense that Rosemary wouldn’t recognize her.

Or it could be some spirit beckoning to her in her dreams. “She didn’t ask you for anything, right?” Sonia asked.

“Nope!”

Alright, good. One less thing to worry about. Sonia let Rosemary sing to herself as she showered and changed, and by the time she was dressed, the idea of sleep was too tempting to pass up. She said she’d take a nap, but she was likely to try to get a solid six hours if she could get away with it.

So she threw herself onto the bed, watching as Rosemary bounced in the air with a squeal. Once the princess was tucked in, Sonia watched as Rosemary finally drifted to sleep. To think anyone would want to harm a little girl like her was beyond infuriating, but she had to bat away the question of why it had to be Rosemary that was targeted. Her life was already challenging, she didn’t need any crazy heretics wanting her power. But any animosity melted away as Rosemary cuddled up to her, so Sonia let herself rest. Tomorrow, she’d handle everything that came her way.

The Will of the Mother

A young woman named Delilah stifled a yawn as she slipped off her apron, finally happy that she was done with the business rush of the morning. Running a bakery was no easy task, but she was always an early bird that liked her work to be done early. Her husband and her sister worked well with her, the clientele preferred to be in and out as quickly as possible, and for the most part, she had little troubles. It helped that Juniperus was the very heart of Veradis and that there was always help around the corner if she looked for it.

Before she could leave for lunch and continue on that book she was reading, however, her sister waved her over. “Delilah…she’s there again,” She warned her.

Delilah let out a sigh. Of course, there was really only one consistent problem she had to deal with; and after Officer Jannick was promoted and Officer Ulrich changed his route, the rest took their sweet time responding to her calls about that woman who liked to terrorize her clientele on a daily basis.

“What is she doing now? Asking people why they color their hair? Or did she decide to resume her fight on spectacles again?” Delilah asked wearily.

“She’s been listening intently to the radio and blocking some people from leaving,” Her sister frowned. “Maybe on your way out you can get her to leave? Or at least move closer so she’s not blocking the door.”

As harmless as it sounded, anytime that woman focused on any one thing, it ended in one of her infamous rants. Why she decided to continue to visit Delilah’s bakery out of all the other businesses, she would never know. That said, it was prudent to get ahead of the explosion. Most days she could be coaxed with a loaf of bread or a sweet or two–if she was being honest, she understood that the woman likely struggled and did what she did without any true malice–so it was better to lose out on a little something than have her drive away paying customers.

And so Delilah stepped out of the kitchen with a small basket hanging from her arm, spotting the woman among the bustle standing next to the small radio on the coffee table near the entrance. Most people squeezed their way past her as she remained rooted in the same place. She didn’t care that her ponytail was batted away nor paid any attention to the judgmental looks as people noticed the old fashioned hand-me-downs she wore that Delilah had gifted her some time ago. Her eyes were hyper focused on the radio, deaf to everything but the broadcast.

As Delilah approached, she heard the host finish speaking about Scion Nadine, who had passed. Once they finished speaking, it was as if the spell cast over the woman was finished. She turned to Delilah, looking concerned.

“That must be why the symphony doesn’t sound so clear anymore,” She sighed. “I thought my ears had dulled, but there is something more malicious at work here.”

“You’re listening to music?” Delilah asked, bewildered.

“Not music. The symphony of the world,” She sighed, exasperated. “I think it is time for drastic measures. I need to go to Estora, I think.”

Delilah was surprised. “Estora? That’s awful far. Do you have family there? Someone that can help you with the…symphony?”

There wasn’t a response for a moment, but Delilah could tell it was being considered. After a moment, however, the blonde nodded. Delilah followed as she looked outside the bakery, frowning. “That is a good idea. I think remaining here and simply watching would be a poor decision,” She murmured, turning to Delilah. “What is the fastest way to Estora? I must speak with Anani’s progeny urgently.”

“By train, probably, but…” Delilah hesitated. “Are you sure you’ll make it there alright?”

“Of course. It is the will of the Mother.”

Delilah sighed, motioning for the woman to wait a moment. She entered her bakery again, ignoring her sister’s questioning as she placed more bread onto the basket and took a blank card before swiping it on the register. At this point her husband was getting inquisitive but she ignored him, too, and returned to the woman once again.

“You can find your way there by train easily. If you’re ever lost, just ask any of the workers there,” Delilah told her. “There’s some money on the card and plenty of bread to tide you over.”

The blonde took the basket, inspecting it for a moment before looking at Delilah again. “May you walk in the light of the Goddess,” She bid her farewell, turning on her heel and marching out the door.

Delilah watched her for a moment and sighed. She wasn’t sure if that poor thing would make it, but at least she was out of her hair for now. Officer Webber would’ve had a field day if he knew. Maybe she could ask one of the knights to pass a message along?

A Matter of Must

“I tell you, what a rollercoaster of a month it’s been, Julie!”

“I agree, Ryan. Two new Scions and a High King, I don’t think we’ve ever had such an eventful start of the year before! Who knows what the rest of it will bring?”

“Can’t be anything good–tensions with Kaudus are rising and Rodion’s preparing for another war!”

“You know why, right?”

“Due to a combination of consistent negative relations between the two countries as one is constantly forced to defend its ally that is continually getting attacked?”

“Well–yes, that’s true. But as they say, bad luck happens in threes: the infamous Prince Lucas is granted Scionhood by our Beloved Mother, and what happens? Two high profile deaths–those of High King Nathaniel Estora and Scion Kaspar Mirandola–while Scion Nadine Lucienne remains missing. Coincidence? I don’t think so!”

“A terribly ill omen for the prince, here’s hoping things start to look up soon!”

Lucas turned the television off and sunk further into the couch. He couldn’t believe how sick he was of hearing and reading his own name everywhere. Never in a million years did he possibly think that his name would get smeared any worse than it already was, either, but apparently his grandfather’s death was on him, his own grief be damned. Hiding out for the month had been absolutely miserable, but the worst part was that all this was just the cherry on top of everything.

Fortunately, the servant came and informed him that Henry was ready to see him. He instructed Tyler to wait at the door for him, not bothering with hearing any protest. This was too important to mess around with, and once the door closed behind him, he placed his hand on the wall. "Nemo audiat."

He then walked up to the desk, looking down at Henry. “I rang it,” He stated. “And you were right–it was meant for Theodore.”

Henry didn’t really look ready to receive Lucas, but he was about as ready as he ever was - reclining in a high-backed chair with a pristine newspaper spread open before him, and three more on the desk waiting for their turn. He was a guest in Lucas’ home, but at the moment it looked rather like the other way around.

When Lucas spoke, the newspaper came down with a noisy crunch, revealing a Henry who looked as sharp as ever, his alert demeanour defying the dark circles under his eyes. “You had the balls for it after all?” He commended Lucas, beckoning him to take a seat. “You surprise me every day.”

“So, what did it show you?” He asked eagerly, invigorated like a teenager. His eyes twinkled with a dangerous glint; it was a shine of cunning curiosity that had often, in the past, preceded great and risky undertakings.

Lucas surprised himself by actually going through and ringing the damn thing. Granted, if he had a hint of what it would show him, he would have rather lived in ignorance. Instead, here he was, once again at the mercy of the world that so desperately wished he was someone else. As melodramatic as that was, however, the truth supported it.

He took his seat and took a deep breath. “Scion Anani appeared to me and gave me the Primordial Prophecy–the same one that she received upon being granted Incepta’s gift and the very same that converted her,” He explained, albeit he grew increasingly frustrated. “Except none of the history books mentioned that what was public wasn’t just the notion of Scions, but it included the mention of Rosemary and some shadow thing that apparently lurks somewhere.”

Lucas wasn’t done, however. “Oh, and of course, the lovely meeting was capped off with her wishing Theodore luck,” He placed emphasis on his cousin’s name. “You’re telling me that a thousand-year-old prophecy somehow correctly pinpointed Rosemary’s birth but didn’t anticipate Theodore not being the recipient?”

“Yes, well, it would seem your cousin’s fuck-up was beyond even the great Anani’s apprehension,” Henry replied dismissively, occupying himself with folding his newspaper, which was now helplessly creased.

He didn’t miss the dark look Lucas gave him, and softened a touch. “I mourn your cousin with you, but we cannot dwell on his death forever. There are strange things in motion; we don’t have the luxury of grief.”

“These are strange times indeed,” Henry continued, returning to his regular candor. “We are experiencing something few have witnessed; a new timeline.”

Lucas watched Henry, not quite understanding. “I thought that there was nothing set in stone,” He said, shaking his head. “I know Theodore passing wasn’t the Goddess’ intention, but what you said makes it seem like everything is already determined.”

“Well, these things are relative,” Henry explained. “You should know that better than most, seeing as you share in a pale reflection of Her power. It is true that nothing is set in stone for us, but our Mother is not bound by the same restrictions as we are. What remains to be seen for us is already known to Her. And keep in mind as well, that the fate of a Scion of Time is understandably a bit more significant than most.”

He shrugged, raising his hands in surrender. “Now, I'm no priest - I left that to my grandson - but it's clear that the Goddess had one plan, and in our mortal stupidity we have gone gravely off course. Fortunately, She can account for that - but not without some noticeable… corrections.”

To think Her entire plan was thrown off was scary enough. But Lucas wasn’t sure why he was surprised; he had witnessed it first hand after living out a scene he had witnessed Theodore live out. Maybe getting confirmation of his assumptions was what really frightened him as it was one thing to make a guess and another to be correct.

He gripped the armchair, nervous. “And my assignment as the Scion of Time is one of these corrections?” He asked, a little suspicious. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

“Well for one, your father was never meant to be king,” Henry revealed plainly, giving the news none of the awe that information from another timeline really warranted. “And much more troubling, this is all happening much faster than it should be.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if he'd discovered he'd been sitting on a rock. “Did Scion Anani happen to tell you why she left you a thousand-year-old message?”

Lucas wasn’t able to contain his groan. That was the last thing he wanted to hear as something he knew was wrong deep down in his soul was actually justified, and hearing it not be part of the Goddess’ plan should have given him satisfaction. Instead, it only brought him dread. As much as he wanted to know otherwise, he ignored it for the moment and focused on Henry’s question.

He sat up, trying to remember Anani’s words. “She said…’I leave this for my descendent in hopes that it will bring him both comfort and guidance; that the task before you is laid out. Incepta’s Light will require your steady hand, that she may rid us all of the Shadow.’ And said she would pray for Theodore’s success,” He explained, frowning. “This ‘shadow’ was mentioned a lot in the prophecy, too, and seemed to be Anani’s motivation to leave her prophecy behind.”

What was it that she said? “Her shadow is red of blood, and then…Beware Termina, beware the red of blood. Scion Anani wants her chosen to band together to help Rosemary drive Termina away. But there’s never been a mention of Termina in any religious texts that I’ve read, there’s never been any mention of the Goddess having a shadow of sorts.”

“Ah, Termina,” Henry breathed, sitting back in his chair. “Did you know ancient peoples once worshipped the moon, and personified its light side as a beautiful maiden who loved the world, and its dark side as her cunning, malevolent twin?” Henry settled further into his chair, like a grandfather about to tell his grandchildren a story. It would be a familiar sight to Rosemary, if the topic weren't so dark. “The sisters were locked in a constant struggle for supremacy. When the good sister had the upper hand, there were the waxing phases and the full moon; when the dark sister had the advantage, she blotted out her twin’s light with the new moon. And for centuries, the people made great sacrifices during the dark phases of the moon, fearing that without their help, their benevolent Mother would be snuffed out in darkness forever.”

Henry seemed to lose himself a little in the story, but snapped back to the present, straightening his back. “All nonsense, of course,” he reminded Lucas, shrugging. “Not every light has an equally great shadow. But with power, adoration, and worship, anything is bound to attract jealousy and hate. That is Termina. If the Goddess Incepta is the beginning of all things, Termina wants to be the end. If she cannot have Incepta’s world full of adoring children, she would rule over its ashes.”

What Henry said made sense. What was that silly expression he heard once? Every light casts a shadow? He never thought it would apply to the Goddess of all things, but then again, he was facing a lot of hard truths at the moment, and somehow that one is the tamest. However, once Henry finished speaking, something bothered Lucas about it all.

“I suppose that makes sense, but you would’ve thought there would be archives, or some mention of Termina in the past. Instead, only the first part of the Primordial Prophecy is public while the rest lies in secret,” He frowned. “...better yet, how you you know about this?”

“Smart question. You're learning,” Henry teased. “I don't pretend to know the Church’s reasons, but I can guess based on what I do know. Termina is not a force of her own to be reckoned with. She is not a god,” he pointed at Lucas. “She has no power of her own to bring to bear against our Mother. Everything she has, she gets from adoration, obsession, sacrifice.”

Henry opened his hand, like a puff of smoke. “Knowledge is not always power. It breeds curiosity, and curiosity feeds her. And it would seem that she's amassed a critical number of devotees of late, which has transformed her from a moderate inconvenience into a serious problem.”

He shook his head. “As for me, I know about this because it is my business to know,” Henry stated simply. He quirked a brow. “Don't you think Anani told William something when she entrusted the Prophecy to his care?”

Lucas shifted in his seat, uncertain. It was supposed to be a compliment, but he felt he did better when he kept his head low and didn’t ask as much. However, everything else Henry said worried him–though he couldn’t resist an eye roll since of course it’s his business to know about all this, Henry always said that–and there was an element to all this that confused him.

“I assume she mentioned that his descendant would be the one to conquer Termina,” He shrugged. “And that’s why he kept the prophecy safe. But Rosemary…it’s just, she’s so young. She’s already had to handle being a Scion as an actual child, and now she’s responsible for beating up something that thinks it’s strong enough to stand up to the Goddess?”

“Indeed. My little girl, the saviour of the world,” Henry outright gushed, his fondness for his granddaughter seeping into his otherwise severe demeanour. He chuckled. “Honestly, I thought it would be Erica, but it's probably best for us all that it wasn't.”

His laugh petered out into a long sigh, a slight sadness washing over him. “The Goddess has asked a lot of little Rosie, but it is not our place to argue,” he reasoned firmly. “I wish she could have grown a little more, but it was not to be. She will have to navigate her fate one way or another, and you,” he caught Lucas’ eye, his gaze as sharp and invading as ever, “will have to help her.”

Lucas decided only to chuckle along at the mention of Erica but chose not to comment–she was likely still pissed at him after their conversation–but he was too used to the sudden change of demeanor anytime he decided to talk about Rosemary. The man was infamous for both being a complete hardass and also how much of an absolute marshmallow he turned into once that little kid ran up to him. What he did not understand, however, was what Henry expected Lucas to do about all this.

“I feel like a six-year-old will need all the help she can get,” He couldn’t help but point out. “But exactly how am I supposed to do that, anyway? Teach her in magic? That’s sort of the only thing I could plausibly help with.”

“I don’t know,” Henry admitted, looking rather displeased at the prospect. “I’ll do everything in my power to help you, but you heard Anani: that is your duty. Incepta’s Light will require your steady hand.” He gave the prince a smug look. “Those aren’t just pretty words.”

He did not like the idea that he was somehow responsible for guiding the chosen one. Now that he mentioned the prophecy, however, there was something else Theodore was responsible for. Lucas squinted at Henry. “...but it also says the Scions need to be united,” He murmured. “Are you telling me I have to get everyone to cooperate, too?”

Henry chuckled, sitting back triumphantly. “Time to put those excellent royal networking skills to use,” he teased, looking thoroughly amused. “I told you all those lessons would come in handy one day.”

Lucas stared at Henry, silent. After a few minutes, however, he took a deep breath. “You’re aware of my…less than stellar reputation,” He muttered, a little ashamed. “My fellow Scions don’t exactly hold me in high esteem, either.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to make ‘degenerate piece of shit’ your public persona,” Henry replied, eyeing his former protege critically. He waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it. It’ll be an excellent opportunity for growth as a prince and a Scion.” He smirked. “Not to mention an excellent show for me.”

Lucas opened and closed his mouth several times, speechless. He was fine living his life burning bridges because he knew he would never need them. After his failures, he knew he wouldn’t amount to anything, so he was fine wasting his days away. At least, that was what he told himself. But now he was expected to just take on all of Theodore’s responsibilities?

“I can’t,” The words were barely above a whisper, the only thought he could properly voice. “I can’t. I can’t make Rosemary into some super mage and I can’t bring the Scions together–it was never supposed to be me. Why–How am I suddenly supposed to do all this?” He gained volume as he spoke, the panic in his voice strained.

Henry’s eyes narrowed, and he smacked the desk with his hand like a judge’s gavel. “What makes you think you have a choice?” He asked, raising his voice. He was suddenly very serious. “This isn’t a matter of can or can’t; this is about must.”

He stood, bracing his hands on the desk. “This prophecy has been a thousand years in the making. A great evil is rising and the Goddess Herself has called you to put an end to it. I don’t care if you have to crawl to your destiny on your hands and knees - you will do it.”

Henry was breathing heavy, and he fell back into his chair, as if the outburst took the good out of him. It was a strange sight; not much got the better of Henry Bachmeier. His voice softened somewhat. “Remember, Lucas, you are not alone. You have more friends than you realize, but most importantly, you have the Goddess. Let Her shoulder some of your burdens; She hears the prayers of all Her children, but Her champions most of all.”

Whatever protest Lucas would have had died as Henry firmly put them out. It wouldn’t do him any good to say what he was dying to say out loud and it would just result in alienating one of the few people on his side. There wasn’t any room for arguing, and it didn’t matter if Lucas was ill-suited for it: it had to be done. Theodore wasn’t here, someone had to do it, and that someone–for better or for worse–was him.

Defeat was painted across his expression, but after the silence had stretched itself out, he dropped his gaze. “I understand,” He conceded, scratching the back of his neck.

“Don't look so sorry for yourself,” Henry chided. “Certainly the first Scions felt as helpless as you - and they saw the Goddess face to face. Her mantle is heavy, but if they could do it, so can you. They watch you with great interest, as do I.” He offered an encouraging smile. “And remember, help is available, if you only ask.”

Why was it so easy for Henry and Erica to get to him? It was both nerve-wracking and infuriating, and while Henry was much more kind about it, he hated hearing those words again. Once he lifted his head and saw Henry’s smile, however, the reassurance didn’t feel nearly as condescending as it should. It almost gave him a little hope that they weren’t all completely doomed.

“If I must, then I will,” He finally conceded with a sigh. “Just…don’t blame me if things go wrong.”

It may not have been the exact thing Henry wanted to hear, but the man nodded at him all the same. There was more he wanted to say, but he figured it was better to just agree. He had a few ideas on how to rally the Scions, so it wasn’t a complete loss right away. He didn’t doubt there would be a few that would be reluctant, but he’d have to worry about that when the time came. Right, no need to overthink, he just needed to handle things as they came. Even if the revelation made his stomach sick, he had to press on. For Rosemary.

Preparation and Pensiveness

The new barrier was complete, the vetting of the staff was finished, and his transportation had been thoroughly investigated. It had been a productive but long few weeks, and for once, Lucas could say he was satisfied. It was shameful to admit that it had been a long time since he could say he was genuinely busy and not just in bed recovering from yet another of those strange mana attacks. The days melted into one another and the product of his labor bore fruit. He was admittedly very proud of this barrier and it was the first time he was thankful for his magic. There really was no comparison to the power a Scion had; what should have taken a dozen mages to erect a barrier around his castle was done by himself. Granted, runic barriers were a little easier to pull off, but this ensured he would know right away if anyone tried to break in and he could sleep at night in peace.

And after a long day he was ready to wrap up his last task and sleep. The walk through the halls of his castle was lonely as it was void of memories, but it was necessary; Veradis Castle held far too many sentimental memories while Estora Castle held too much of his bitterness and resentment. It was easier to avoid thinking about it too much while he was busy, but as always, he found himself paused in front of an old painting gifted to him after the passing of Prince Aaron. The piece was painted by a Rosarian artist who never quite reached fame, but the meticulous attention to detail made for a timeless piece. Prince Aaron stood at the heart of the composition, exuding a sense of responsibility and protection for his family with a gentle smile. His wife, the previous Scion of Water Lilie Fiorella, stood close with him, sporting an elegant white braid as she held Aaron’s arm. He never had the chance to meet her, but he was always told of her kind heart despite her humble origins. A considerably younger Henry stood proud next to them, a copy of his father in nearly every feature except for the fullness of his cheeks that he inherited from his mother. His two younger sisters–Elizabeth and Olivia, if he remembered right–had bright smiles as they held hands.

Why Prince Aaron had gifted an old family portrait to him, Lucas had no idea. But he was touched to have been mentioned in the will in any capacity, so he took it. Both the Prince and Henry were exceedingly young here, he remembered how as a kid he couldn’t comprehend that it was the same adults he met at the castle in the picture. What fascinated him about it was that it was the only family portrait that he had seen where the family was depicted smiling–he remembered being so confused about it. In hindsight, the Prince might’ve mistaken his confusion for interest. What really interested Lucas was how sure of himself Prince Aaron looked. Henry’s words popped into his head at that moment, and while he referred to the First Scions, surely he had also meant his own father. The wrinkled old man who patted his head when he was a small child was the same one who had to ascend the throne at fourteen years of age and struck down a Scion that had strayed from Incepta’s light. What had been going through his head? Did he ever panic like Lucas did? Was he ever worried about how he would accomplish the things asked of him? There wasn’t any way to tell, but he lived through it all, so it must have meant something. But Lucas was aware he wasn't nearly half the prince Aaron was. Doubt clawed its way into his mind, digging deeper the more he thought about things. The only thing that really had him shake it off and keep going was knowing it was all for Rosemary's sake. If he was being honest, however, that same thought frightened him.

“Your Highness?”

Lucas nearly jumped out of his skin at the greeting. Duchess Patricia frowned at him, a quizzical gaze following his to the painting. She inspected it for a moment before looking back at him. “My apologies, I was in thought,” He said, unexpectedly turning back to the painting.

“About the painting?” She asked. “If I remember correctly, it was commissioned by His Highness for his wife’s birthday. I believe Henry has another from the same artist but from a later year.”

He wanted to say it wasn’t the painting itself that had him thinking, but he guessed that admitting what he was actually thinking about was too embarrassing to admit out loud, especially since he had no real relation to the man in question. He was getting lost in thought a lot these days, he realized. “I see,” was all he could say to that, tearing himself away from the portrait.

Patricia followed him dutifully. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” His response was quick, but he wasn’t exactly expecting the question from her. “Why?”

“Is it strange to ask? I’d think it was more strange to have so many doctors visiting a healthy, young man like yourself.”

She wasn’t wrong. Unfortunately, the thing that happened to him with his mana at Duke Giles’ manor decided that it would move into a more haphazard schedule. It was frustrating that no doctor could properly figure out why it was happening, though the last attack was so bad he ended up having to sit out his father’s coronation. Not that he would complain; he hadn’t planned on attending that charade, the only difference was that he had a legitimate reason. But no change in diet or exercise gave him any relief and it seemed that they were here to stay. The only solace was that he was getting better at anticipating when it was going to happen and avoided including Tyler in the pain train for the most part.

“I’m not as healthy as I look,” He would only give that much of a response before the pair entered his office.

Either she had no further comment or realized that he wasn't going to speak more on the topic. “Sir Morris informed me he would return soon. The new security detail is now to his liking,” Patricia said once Lucas sat down at his desk. “I’ve finished vetting the staff as well and have your letters for the day here.”

Right, he had forgotten about those. He typically left them to one of the servants of the castle to take care of since he couldn’t be bothered–anyone that actually mattered to him communicated through email or text–but if he was going to start taking his own duties seriously, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to see what people actually wanted so he could wrangle them under his thumb. A lot of his vassals were older and were more likely to communicate via letters, so he made sure to start checking them. That said, it still slipped his mind so he was getting to them later than usual. If Patricia hadn’t brought it up, he would’ve forgotten. Actually, the duchess had been a big help getting this all done so quickly. Henry had recommended her help after his visit and the past few weeks went effortlessly through no small part of her own. Not that his staff hadn’t been inefficient before, but his insistence on hiring people that weren’t from Estora Castle as was customary had come back to haunt him as Patricia poked holes in their schedules, the responsibilities being scattered around, and brought to attention his insistence on hiring as few people as possible meant the workload was much too heavy, even if he was the only one being served. She reassigned duties, got rid of any incompetence, hired sharp, dutiful workers, and had the castle running much more smoothly. Granted, the woman had experience running Veradis Castle, so this must’ve been much easier in comparison. But with her children grown and out of her own estate, he wondered if she was left wanting for work.

“Duchess, would you consider staying here if I asked?” He suddenly asked her as he accepted the letters. “Running things, I mean. Though I imagine it might get dull compared to Veradis.”

“I would be honored, Your Highness,” She replied. “On the contrary, running something of this size would be more manageable for someone my age.”

At that, he couldn’t help but scoff. The woman was, what, in her sixties? And she was still sharper than most people he met. “I didn’t know you were one to sway towards something easier,” He couldn’t help but reply as he opened up and scanned the first letter from some count complaining about a dam. “But if you want it, the position is yours.”

“I’ll have my belongings moved here, then. Shall I inform the staff?”

“They can find out tomorrow,” He tossed the letter aside before looking through the envelopes, hoping one would get his interest. Unfortunately, he got exactly what he was looking for as a letter from De la Lune–a mage academy he had applied to some months back, before he became a Scion–got his attention. Suddenly getting confronted with this made him much more aware that the Duchess was watching him, so he ripped open the envelope without hesitation, a foreign anxiety mixing something uncomfortable in his stomach.

To The Esteemed Prince Lucas:

We are delighted to welcome you to l'École d'Enchantement de la Lune–

His first instinct was to immediately crumple up the letter, disbelief gripping him. Of course he would get it now. A dream of his was right in his hands, taunting him, mocking him for ever believing that any path he wanted to take for himself in his life was his to choose if he only applied himself. He was less convinced that he had the Goddess to rely on, because why would she spare him just a sliver of compassion when she could just continue to dunk on him for kicks? Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he simply tossed the letter aside before looking at the rest. Well, he could use the invitation as an excuse to visit Dr. Rhaveus without raising suspicion, so he would begrudgingly thank the Goddess and move on.

Speaking of which, a letter from Father Bachmeier was waiting for him next. He’d accept this as an apology from the universe if it went the way he wanted. Ignoring the writing, he muttered something under his breath and waited until a golden script appeared in the header. To his delight, it had exactly what he was looking for: Dr. Rhaveus had come up with a theory on mana negation and it was the hot topic of the academies. Negation sounded a lot like what had happened, but he needed confirmation instead of depending on the rumormill.

“Send a letter out to my fellow Scions. It’s time we met outside of public eyes,” He stated as he got up from his chair. “Set a meeting for the twelfth and make it clear that it’s important so they don’t skip out.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” She looked at his desk. “Shall I see to the rest of the letters as well, Your Highness?”

“Yeah, just give me the important things from them tomorrow. If Sir Morris shows up here, tell him I’m going to bed.”

“And the letter from De la Lune?”

Lucas didn’t let it break his stride. “Just toss it. The Goddess has decreed that I’ll be learning through a trial by fire,” He replied bitterly.

March 12th, 1000

The Duchy of Lucania was much more modern than anything surrounding it. The bustling city looked and worked very much like a beehive, with a vast majority of people walking this way and that in what looked like chaos at first. However, a closer look would show that people knew exactly where to go despite the sheer amount of people there. At the center of its capital, Novarum, sat a majestic castle, a striking departure from the modern buildings surrounding it. While the city pulsed with life, the castle stood as a constant in all its grandeur. Visitors flocked to the castle, drawn in by its history and architecture. There were many guided tours that lead people through halls filled with suits of armor and tapestries depicting the history of Estora. From the upper floors of the castle's towers, it was easy to see the entire city waiting underneath them.

Of course, those in the know were aware that the Novarum Castle was for show. It had been many years since any royal lived there as it was much too central. It did, however, provide a connection to the Scions and Templars' destination: the Lucania Castle located a good distance away from the city. Within Novarum's Castle was a bullet train not unlike the one they took from Stern Hill, albeit both train and tunnel looked much newer. They wouldn't stop directly at Lucas' home, either; they would make a stop at one of the towers of the wall that protected the manor. Only after they passed security were they granted access within. The sheen that covered the entirety of the manor like a dome was the tell-tale sign of a protection barrier, but it did not bar them as they were able to walk through it with ease. The actual castle was humble but still extravagant, the gardens enjoying the temperate climate that protected them. Said gardens were perfectly manicured and hosted an impressive variety of flowers and trees, the pool sporting many petals and flower lilies that floated peacefully.

Once inside, they were greeted with the familiar face of Duchess Patricia Bachmeier. Unlike her previous greens, she now wore a gorgeous red dress, albeit her eyes were as sharp as always. She greeted each pair personally and lead them to a meeting room. It looked grand, with an entire wall of floor length windows giving them a gorgeous view of the gardens. The halls were devoid of servants despite the spread of food and drink at the table, and Patricia did not follow them into the room. However, on entry, each Scion and Templar could feel themselves pass another barrier, and they would notice that the room was isolated; not a sound escaped nor would they hear anything from the outside.

Lucas sat at the head of the table, dressed in a jacket and tie, though he was focused more on the tuning fork in his hand than the people coming in. He only tore his attention away from it once Princess Belle lost her patience and slammed her hand on the table, irritated.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" She snapped at him.

"Nope," He replied, sitting up a touch. "What do you want now?"

She looked at Sonia seated across from her, hoping for some support. The woman offered a half-hearted shrug--she would have had to admit she wasn't really listening to the princess, either. In her defense, however, Rosemary was going on a tangent on how the water lilies in the pool were some of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and they just had to get one just like it in Veradis and how she couldn't go another day without her own pool and would her father be okay with it?

"It is disingenuous to not listen to a guest," Sonia offered something resembling support.

Rosemary stopped her rant and pulled on the sleeve of Sonia's templar uniform. "What's--what's--this-en-jen-us?" She asked.

Princess Belle replied before Sonia could. "It means that yet again the second Prince of Estora has inexplicitly decided that he is too good for anyone despite being an arrogant--" She managed to stop herself as Sonia caught her eye with a dark look. "--jerk." She ended, somewhat annoyed that she had to hold herself back.

Rosemary ran over to Lucas, giggling. "She said you're a jerk," She informed him as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard.

"Better a jerk than an annoying pain in the butt," He shrugged, watching Belle fume. "I'm not supporting your inane idea to go to war without proper proof that Kaudus was behind everything."

"Is it so inane to defend ourselves against a force looking to harm us?!" She asked angrily.

"Provoking a war without a proper casus belli will have our neighbors interfere in Kaudus' defense. Lanvaldear was already concerned about our bloody history with them, you of all people should know that," He informed her cooly.

"Lanvaldear--"

"Kisses your butt and throws themselves at your feet due to being the living symbol of peace. You've made that clear to every single person you've met," He cut her off. "Norðri and Janub have also voiced their concerns, and as powerful as we are, a potential war against four countries won't end without a decent amount of bloodshed."

Rosemary burst into laughter, clinging to Lucas' chair as she doubled over. "They kiss your butt! That's so weird!" She howled as Belle and Lucas glared at one another.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Cowardice

What should have been a peaceful sleep was interrupted, much to Lucas’ dismay, by the butler entering the bedroom. With heavy limbs he managed to turn and fold his pillow over his face, almost ignoring the butler calmly informing him that Princess Erica was waiting for him in the living room. The mention of Erica was the only thing that forced him up, mumbling something to Tyler about staying in bed.

He groped around with half-closed eyes, grabbing one of the robes and tying the sash around his waist in a half-assed attempt at being modest. One hand ran through his hair, barely taming his wild locks, and he peered at the princess sitting prettily on the couch. He wasn’t even remotely surprised to find her with her hair pinned away from her face and wearing a dress embroidered with Estora’s stars. An assortment of sandwiches sat on the coffee table, enticing him to throw himself onto one of the armchairs.

Erica stopped nibbling on her sandwich and placed it down in front of her, watching Lucas curiously. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from your father or brother, have you?” She said more than asked.

“Thankfully not,” He grumbled, throwing his head back against the back of the armchair. “Please tell me what you want in fifty words or less, I feel like crap.”

The blonde let out a sigh. “Nathaniel has passed. Last night, the council came together to decide on the future king and chose your father due to gaining the endorsement of the Scion of Time. I suspected you weren’t aware and came to inform you,” She told him. “Only thirty-nine, but I can include this for fifty, I suppose.

The news hit him like someone had splashed cold water onto his face, jerking Lucas into an upright position with his eyes wide. He had always known Erica wasn’t the type to hold back, but he wasn’t expecting this at all. His grandfather died last night and he was only just learning about it. His father said he endorsed him?! Who would believe that?

“That can’t be…” What should have been a more indignant response came out somewhat pathetically as his gaze dropped. “Grandfather passed and no one thought to tell me…? And–who the fuck is stupid enough to believe that I would ever support his bullshit claim?!”

“Your brother decided to keep us both in the dark. Unfortunately, I had a rough night and slept through his departure,” She replied somewhat coldly. “I admit I share your surprise; I never thought Ezekiel would be so bold to lie.”

Lucas raised his head to give Erica an incredulous look. “He just lied and everyone believed him?” He asked in disbelief.

She shrugged. “It’s what I was told. I doubt I’ll get the truth out of Arthur,” She seemed a little apologetic as she spoke. “I thought not to let you stay in the dark, at least. Nathaniel wanted to avoid a situation like this, but I suppose your Scionhood was all the justification needed for a power grab. That it worked is disappointing, I don’t think I have ever seen my grandfather so annoyed.”

Disappointing was one way to put it. Then again, Azrael’s position weakened after the death of his initial heir while Ezekial had two sons and a grandson on the way. Lucas briefly wondered if things would have turned out the same if Theo had still been Scion. He leaned back against the armchair, awake but a little more relaxed.

“You should be pleased. One step closer to being queen,” He replied.

The very mention of the word brought that all-too familiar glint in the princess’ eye: it was a deep, insatiable hunger. Henry called her ambitious, but Lucas knew it was greed. The accompanying smile reminded him of a cat watching a helpless bird flapping around the ground.

“An avenue opened, yes,” She ended up admitting as she rested her hands on her bump.

Lucas couldn’t stop himself from scoffing, earning him a glare. “Never change, at least you’re consistent.”

Erica rolled her eyes at him. “I’m more interested to see if you’ll stay the same. Scion royalty runs this Federation–Princess Isabella has run Rosaria since she came of age despite her mother still wearing the monarch’s crown. Even your father will have to think twice before crossing you,” She pointed out.

“If you really think that, you’re stupider than I thought you were,” He couldn’t help but snap. If he was being honest, however, his growing irritation was due to them having the same conversation again. “This was his way of telling me that even as a Scion I don’t have any power.”

“You have no power because you choose not to wield it,” Erica remained firm. “You helped Theodore out all the time, I don't see why you don’t put time and effort into doing some good instead of whoring yourself around and drinking so much you sweat alcohol.”

“Everything I did I got away with because Theodore helped, not the other way around,” He reminded her, his eyes flickering to the bedroom. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Erica’s lips formed a tight line–she was pissed at him but aware that yelling at him wouldn’t accomplish anything. Instead of responding right away, she took a few seconds to compose herself again. “Grandfather went out of his way to shape you into a fine young man, and you’ve squandered it all away,” She evidently decided she was in the mood to fight.

“My father took a sledgehammer to his work,” Lucas’ reply came quickly. “But seeing Henry again…after everything that’s happened, I know I can’t keep going the way I have. And it starts with finding Theo’s murderer.”

The blonde was surprised by his response, but she still frowned at him. “I understand you have that motivation now, but even before that, you didn’t seem to amount to anything. Just because Croia was absorbed into the Duchy of Avalon doesn’t mean you couldn’t try again.”

Lucas bristled at the mention of Croia, giving Erica a dark look. “I don’t want to talk about this,” He repeated.

The princess outright rolled her eyes at him. “You’re such a coward.”

“Honestly, fuck you. It’s so easy for you to be so judgemental.”

“Because I know you!”

“And?”

“And I can’t understand what Ezekiel did to make you like this.”

“No, you can’t.”

Erica let out a frustrated groan as she clapped her hands together, bringing them to her chin. “I want to hit you so badly,” She told him.

Lucas turned his right cheek towards her, tapping it. “This one’s unbruised. Go for it.”

The princess let out a long exhale. “I am outright envious of whoever gets to,” She muttered darkly. “I can’t believe I was supposed to marry you at one point.”

“Yeah, you robbed me of the only family I wanted.”

“Oh, please, you’re so dramatic. You would’ve been bored of me within a month.”

“I would’ve made sure every single day was entertaining.”

“No, it would’ve ended with me choking you in your sleep.”

“See that would’ve made everyone envious of you.”

Erica pinched the bridge of her nose. “I understand the fallout might’ve been discouraging, but you had options. You could’ve come to me or Grandfather, we would have supported you,” She said, abruptly steering the conversation back to where she wanted.

He couldn’t believe she wouldn’t drop it. Letting out a heavy sigh, he let his body fall limp against the armchair again, eyes unfocused and gazing at something he wasn’t really looking at. “It wasn’t just Croia,” He finally admitted. “Grisandole, Auctor, Glendale…every single one I tried to help was sabotaged.”

“And you thought that was a good enough reason to give up? Just because things didn’t go your way?”

“Yes,” Lucas replied bluntly.

Erica frowned at Lucas, clearly wanting to say more but hesitating for whatever reason. Eventually, she let out a small sigh. “I am sorry for your loss. And I’m sorry that you feel you can’t come to us for help. But if there’s anything you need, we’re here for you.”

Lucas stared at Erica for a while without saying anything. That was something so easy for her to say as someone who had her home country behind her and the church itself ready to defend her simply due to having the Bachmeier last name. She was essentially untouchable. She wouldn’t get it.

It wasn’t until the princess looked uncomfortable that he got up from the couch and decided he was done with the conversation, stretching his arms above his head. “Uh huh. I’m going back to bed.”

Erica got up and grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. “I mean it. Stop pushing me away,” She insisted.

Lucas didn’t reply and just pulled himself out of her grip. She could walk all over everyone and insist on her way, but she wasn’t about to pull that bullshit off with him. He returned to the bedroom and made sure the door was closed before dropping himself back onto the bed, running his hands over his face. He couldn’t believe the audacity of his old man. Sure, it was obvious he would’ve used Lucas’ newfound Scionhood to his advantage, but to just outright lie was a lot, even for him.

The Calm Before the Storm

???

The single candle swayed as Margaret walked through the halls of the Cathedra Incepta, its small light doing its best to illuminate the path. The moonlight did a better job and she could have used a flashlight, but the flame was a necessity. Its purpose came once she placed it down onto a pedestal, the flame crawling off of the candle and seeping wax onto the surface. The symbol shined brightly and a door revealed itself. She stepped through and the Cathedra Incepta was left behind for a much more ordinary looking place, despite the mysticism needed to enter. The room had no windows and the stone looked old, the floorboard creaking under her feet as she walked to the small, round table in the center of the room. Shadows hid the corners of the room and despite a light shining down on the table, there was no lamp.

Both Fyodor and Elijah waited for Margaret, the pair looking at her as she sat down. “Shall we begin?” Fyodor asked.

“Your impatience never fails to amaze me,” Margaret commented, folding her hands together in front of her.

“Our enemies have taken another Scion from us. You don’t think that requires some urgency?”

“Of course it does. But hastiness is cause for error,” She replied. “Once this gets out, there will be a panic that will grip all of the Federation. We mustn’t let ourselves get caught up in it–remaining strong against the tides of uncertainty will be our greatest challenge.”

“The Scions and Templars have been shaken by the night’s events,” Elijah sighed.

“They cannot falter now. If the people see the Scions fear, they will follow suit,” Margaret warned.

Elijah wasn’t happy to hear that. “They are only human, Margaret. Anyone in their position would be fearful. This enemy is specifically targeting them.”

“They are Incepta’s chosen,” She stated firmly. “They are the pillars of the Church.”

“And those same pillars are crumbling,” Fyodor chuckled, ignoring Margaret’s glare. “This generation of Scions is certainly a collection.”

“It is your Templars that must ensure they do not crumble,” She reminded him. “I suggest you remind them of their duties.”

“Irina has already taken care of it.”

“How convenient for you. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were willingly shouldering your responsibilities onto her.”

“I wouldn’t give them to her if I didn’t have absolute confidence in her capabilities. If she cannot handle this, she doesn’t deserve the title of Commander,” Fyodor replied, eyes narrowed at Margaret. “And I would ask you to show her your respect. Irina will soon be your equal.”

Elijah’s eyebrows shot up. “But you said there would still be time before your retirement,” He said, worried. “If you retire now…the timing would just make everyone uneasy.”

“Anyone worth their salt knows Irina is more than capable of being Commander,” Fyodor dismissed Elijah’s concern.

“I only hope your judgment stands,” Margaret said dryly.

Fyodor turned his sharp glare to Margaret. “It has yet to fail me. And yet here we are, because you dismissed this cult’s preaching when Elijah brought it up months ago,” He snapped, standing up. “And now we have Scion Nadine doomed to meet Scion Theodore’s fate as a result.”

“You would blame me for the actions of madmen and heretics?” Margaret asked in disbelief as she stood from her seat as well.

“The blood of both Scion Theodore and Scion Nadine paint your hands,” He scoffed. “When will you stop waiting for something to happen before acting? How many Scions will you choose to lose?”

“Remember your place, Fyodor,” She warned him.

“Enough,” Elijah interjected. “What has passed cannot be changed. What is important is that we do whatever it takes to protect the Scions that remain.”

Both Margaret and Fyodor continued to glare at one another, but both sat down once again. Elijah let out a sigh, rubbing his temples.

“We should tell the Scions to shelter in Veradis,” Margaret suggested. “It will be easier to keep an eye on them, then.”

“Several of them are prolific members of high society. I can’t imagine they’d do so willingly,” Elijah frowned.

Margaret gave Elijah an incredulous look. “Princesses Rosemary and Isabella I understand, but you truly expect me to believe the escape artists of Wind and Earth would be doing anything better with their time? Our newest Scion is also royalty, but if you give the rumors any credence, anything he puts his hands on turns to dust. Estora would be glad to see him in one place instead of galivanting with whores and miscreants.”

“You give rumors too much credit,” Fyodor scoffed. “Even if that was the case, Sir Morris will handle him.”

“Speaking of Sir Morris, thank you for informing us that he would resume his position,” Margaret scoffed. “What in Incepta’s name could you have possibly been thinking to give that Templar another Scion to lose? And of course, not just any Scion, but an Estoran Prince! It would be a grave consequence if this one were to go missing as well!”

“Weren’t you just disparaging him?”

“Sir Morris had no fault in what happened with Scion Theodore,” Elijah told her. “I’m more disturbed by your lack of faith in our Scions and Templars.”

“And who could blame me?” Margaret stood once again, gesturing to something in the air. A virtual screen appeared with the faces and names of every Scion and Templar. “The Scions Wind and Earth show no signs of taking their duties seriously, the Scion of Gravity is too busy being distracted by her own reflection, the Scion of Fire hasn’t received the message that he is a soldier no longer, and neither the Scion of Metal nor Shadow haven’t shown an ounce of initiative.”

Elijah frowned. “I understand your frustration, but–”

“And yet you ask why I lack confidence in their abilities,” She snapped, pacing around. “Combine this with the gaggle of Templars Fyodor assigned who aren’t performing their duties, it is obvious that there is great cause for concern! Tonight’s report paints a sorry picture of the people entrusted to their holy gifts. It is both horrifying and shameful, and neither of you seems to realize this!”

“Well, it could be that–”

“And I haven’t touched on their willingness to use the Goddess’ gift at their whims. It is as if they have decided that the rules we have do not apply to them,” She stopped pacing, her hands behind her back. “Need I remind you two what happens when a Scion decides that they may do as they please? Or do you require a history lesson on Scion Yusef Zente? Because unlike then, we have no Scion Aaron Bachmeier to do the righteous thing this time.”

Elijah and Fyodor looked at one another. The former sighed, giving Margaret a serious look. “To err is to be human. I implore you to exemplify compassion and understanding rather than instill judgment from on high, unless you wish your fall from your high horse to be cruel and unforgiving,” He warned her.

Margaret leaned forward and slammed her hands on the table. “Mark my words: your unwillingness to uphold the sacred laws will be your undoing,” She warned him in turn.

“Is that a threat?” Fyodor asked darkly.

The pair glared at one another, but Margaret stood straight again. “It is a word of caution.”

Elijah sighed. “I don’t believe we are getting anywhere productive tonight. Let us reconvene when we all arrive at the Cathedra Incepta tomorrow. And we should bring clear minds and open hearts,” He pointedly told Margaret.

She shook her head in disappointment, but evidently decided she had enough of the pair. She exited through her door, and said door faded into the wall.

Fyodor outright sighed, giving Elijah a tired look. “And then you wonder why I want to be done with all this,” He waved towards Margaret’s previous spot. “She is impossible.”

“She is concerned,” Elijah frowned. “I don’t completely disagree, I just feel she is letting her fears and concerns dominate her. However…”

“However?”

Elijah narrowed his eyes. “I have to admit, I agree with her point about Sir Morris. I thought we came to an agreement about him.”

“We did.”

“And if he decides to forsake his duties to seek revenge?”

“Then he is in the perfect place for it. Prince Lucas and Scion Theodore were close as wards of Henry Bachmeier,” Fyodor told him. “Pairing Sir Morris and the prince together gives them a common goal. And that goal will inflame Sir Morris and will pacify Prince Lucas–it’s the ideal pairing to find the truth behind Scion Theodore’s disappearance.”

Elijah looked uneasy as Fyodor spoke. “I don’t like it when you scheme like this,” He admitted.

“Forgive me, but there are things that must be done,” He groaned as he stood, his hand massaging his right hip.

“I know, but…such things shake trust,” He frowned. “I would rather not have you follow Margaret’s path.”

“If I could pull strings the same way she could, I wouldn’t have been a soldier,” He outright laughed. “In her little rant, she failed to mention how Princess Isabella has been running the Rosarian Kingdom in her mother’s stead. Such boldness has to come from somewhere, don’t you think?”

Elijah’s eyes widened. “I…hadn’t considered that,” He paused. “But you think investing in Prince Lucas will combat that?”

“The thing about politics is I don’t care enough to get involved,” He chuckled. “However, I have it on good authority that Prince Lucas is the perfect person to go up against Princess Isabella.”

Elijah looked unsure, but he eventually nodded. “Alright, I will put my trust in you, then,” He conceded.

Ill Tidings

Meanwhile...

Elsewhere, the armored man sat on a hospital bed. His incomplete hand rested on his broken thigh, the hum of a song from his helmet echoing a touch as he looked at the golden crystal in his hand. The blood couldn’t hide its glow, the light bent within the crystal strangely. Of course, he knew it was no ordinary thing and likely had its own set of rules; retracting the light in its own way was the least of its mysteries.

The door slid open and in walked the doctor. His white hair blended in with his white coat, his gloved hand pulled a computer chair with him before he sat in front of the armored man. He took out a thin pair of glasses from his pocket, perching them on his nose and staring at the metallic hand and leg for a moment.

“You’ve gotten yourself quite damaged, Adam,” He chuckled.

“Tyler Morris hasn’t let his skills rust in his time without his Scion,” He replied, lifting his broken hand to admire it. “The rumors that he used his magic as a crutch were false, Dr. Devol.”

“His grief hasn’t weighed him down as we hoped,” The doctor took the metallic hand in both of his and inspected it. “I’m assuming a mana saber did this…likely a model 50 enhanced with his own mana–no, an uncapped 100, the church wouldn’t give him any standard thing. I can save the skeleton but it melted the exterior, it’s a miracle he didn’t slice through your hand.”

“I used it to block his sword at one point. If he meant to sever it, he likely would have,” Adam replied, gesturing to his thigh.

The doctor clicked his tongue in disappointment. “A rambunctious boy. Our information was incomplete. Salome needs to do a better job of gathering intelligence,” He decided to focus on the hand first, clicking around the wrist.

Adam pulled back his hand and offered the crystal. “The good news is your technology worked twofold. Overriding Lucas Estora’s magic was effortless,” He said as the doctor eagerly took the crystal in his hand. “What’s more, his mana is unstable. I detected an anomaly from him, but he moved shortly afterwards as he was nowhere to be found when I looked in the ballroom. By the time I took the Lightning Scion and disposed of her Templar, Salome had moved forward.”

“His mana won’t remain unstable. Incepta’s design is making every attempt at channeling the mana where She has deemed it belongs,” He said as he turned away from Adam and rolled to the desk next to him. He placed the crystal above a circular platform and clicked on a few things, the crystal slowly floating as several red lines appeared before enveloping it entirely. “That he was able to manipulate time at all must be an unintended side effect. He has more control than I expected.”

“I didn’t anticipate it,” Adam admitted. “But a Scion’s control over their element is inconsistent enough that I assumed he was simply fortunate. Incepta must smile on him.”

“More like She wishes for vengeance over her fallen child,” He muttered, more focused on the screen. “Regardless, if we don’t get the Time Scion before he regains control, we’ll lose out on the blessing.”

“Is it still a blessing if it’s forcibly taken?”

“It’s a blessing because it is based on the same principle,” He frowned at the screen. “I don’t recognize the materials that compose this crystal. The Church certainly hides their secrets well.”

“The sword damaged the armor, but I don’t know to what extent.”

“Scion Alderman ensured the armor wouldn’t be brought down by any conventional method,” The doctor chuckled to himself.

Adam stood up and walked over, curious. “I assume this will go to whoever receives the lightning blessing,” He said.

“I’d rather you have it, but you may be right if the crystal is bound to lightning mana,” The doctor scratched his chin. “Hmm…it’s complexity is beautiful, but it’ll take some time. We should lie low for a while and see about repairing your limbs in the meantime. I’ll be occupied with the new lightning blessing as well…it’s going to be a busy new year.”

Adam looked back at the crystal. “How long until the new blessing? It took months for the last one, no?”

“If I had succeeded on my first attempt at putting theory to practice, I would have gone out and bought a lottery ticket,” The doctor laughed. “This time, it will be much shorter. A young, healthy man is a more durable test subject than an older, frail woman–I’ll get results in a matter of days this time. Sooner if her heart gives out.”

A red beeping caught both of their attention. “Very well, then. I will relay the information,” Adam stated.

The doctor gave him no response so he took his leave. There were many things running through his mind, but he acknowledged that it would take some time before their next attempt. He made his way through the halls until he entered a room with stone walls and floors. The chill was enough to give him pause, his boot crunching on dead leaves. The greenhouse was once home to a multitude of exotic plants, but now only one thing remained. The moonlight illuminated the room void of life, and at its center sat a magnificent willow tree. Its branches hung low, protecting its trunk, but they swung back as Adam walked through.

At the base of the tree sat what looked like a woman asleep on a makeshift bed of pillows at first glance; her silhouette could’ve been mistaken for human had it not been for a large pair of horns protruding from her head. Her skin was an ashen black, a great contrast to the shimmering white hair that swept the ground around her. The color shimmered gold with every movement, matching the jewel set on her forehead. Her clothes looked elegant, but ended in smoke, moving as if there was a wind billowing around her.

She opened her golden eyes, her jewelry clinking together as she lifted her head. “I can feel it. Her Lightning…will you give it to me?” Her voice was soft and sultry, eyes quietly hungering. “You denied me Her Time.”

Adam knelt to the ground and bowed his head. “As before, we will not give you the Scion. However, this time we will ensure you have plenty of blessed ones to feed on,” He said apologetically. “I ask for your understanding, Termina.”

She gave no response at first, eyes focused on Adam. He listened intently, knowing he may need to withdraw if she decided to feast on him. The shuffling told him that she was getting up and he did the same. She didn’t walk over to him as he expected, however, instead walking over to the tree.

“Two lights dimmed…and a third on the way,” Termina said, her nails raking the bark. A golden light trailed her scratches, but disappeared as she turned to Adam. “Her intended path has been completely thrown aside. She will act soon. Incepta will come for me.”

He stiffened as she shifted, her entire form swallowed by smoke and dust only for her to appear directly in front of him. Her hair billowed out behind her, eyes wide and hungry as they darkened to a bloody red. There was a strange beauty about her face that made her look uncanny, a face that should have been something to admire instead of appearing so inhuman.

“To increase my strength, I need to be fed,” Her eerily calm voice told him. “Won’t you have the good doctor bring me another to feed on?”

“Your will be done,” He replied as calmly as he could. He didn’t dare turn away or show any fear; he witnessed firsthand what happened when anyone showed any signs of weakness.

Sure enough, after a moment, Termina calmed down somewhat, albeit her eyes remained red. She gave him what was likely supposed to be an assuring smile, but she remained in place instead of retreating. A pair of robed men dragged in an unconscious man, throwing him to Adam’s side. They got down on their knees, bowing their heads. “Greatest Termina, we give to you this offering,” One spoke.

She walked to the unconscious man, poking his shoulder with her foot. The holy sigil glowed briefly at her touch, giving her glee, and she then walked over to the men. Despite their honeyed words, they visibly trembled, earning a ‘tut’ out of her. “I don’t believe I can be satisfied with just the one,” She said, looking at Adam.

He understood. “Take as you please.”

Unlike before, the smile she gave him was bright and warm. Smoke surrounded the robed men and solidified into tendrils, grabbing them by their necks. He paid no mind to their struggles or choked shouts for help, knowing very well that Termina was not to be denied her meal. She was generous as well; this time she would eat three, and not an entire room as she did before. Indulging her would both keep her happy and keep him on her good side. He took his leave without a second glance, more concerned about repairing what he needed.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

feat. Sir Tyler Morris (@Scribe of Thoth)

Lucas had taken the Duchess’ arrival as a means to leave. He did pat Rosemary’s head before he left, but he didn’t linger; those giant golden eyes would’ve pleaded with him to stay and he wasn’t strong enough to ignore whatever drunken emotion would’ve popped up looking at her. So he gave a half-hearted farewell to the other Scions and left, fully intent on going to bed.

Except a gorgeous pair of blue eyes and a fine ass had distracted him.

It never took much coaxing to get his way with anyone. In fact, he’d argue he had more people coming onto him than vice versa. It was typically an annoyance as there were some nights he just wanted to drink and wasn’t interested in someone sloppily jamming their tongue in his mouth. But he had no desire to spend the night alone and let his lust lead the way. He got Blue Eyes to come to his room, and after a round of drinks, then another, then some more, Lucas had Blue Eyes in his bed, his lips attacking the other’s collarbone as he fumbled with the dress shirt.

His instinct to just pop it off was met with a protest. “H-Hey! Don’t go ripping off the buttons!”

Lucas stopped and raised his head, giving an incredulous look. “I’ll get you another one,” He offered a token non-apology.

“That’s not the point.”

“Are you actually going to argue over this? I’m losing wood,” The prince outright asked, sitting up. “I’ll find someone else if you’re going to get pissy.”

There was a little hesitation, but ultimately, degeneracy won as Lucas’ tie was pulled on, and he returned to his previous notion–with the buttons of the shirt going flying out of pettiness–his lips now descending onto the newly exposed canvas.

Sin works hard, but the Goddess works harder, and it wasn’t long before Tyler entered the room. Sensing nothing amiss at first, he traipsed into the living room with the intent to collapse on the couch and offered barely a glance toward the bedroom.

“I’m back. You in here?” he called. The alcohol sitting out implied he definitely was, unless the prince decided to go for a drunken stroll around the castle once he’d dulled the stresses of the night with drink. Though that begged the question, why the two glasses? They’d both clearly been drunk from, so it probably wasn’t intended to be left out for Tyler - not that he thought Lucas would be that considerate anyway - but one had to be in quite the hurry to get smashed to drink from two cups at once.

Or he’d barged into the wrong room, which was a worrying indictment of palatial security and would probably prevent him from sleeping tonight.

At the sound of Tyler’s voice, Blue Eyes looked to the door. “Who is that?”

Lucas didn’t stop, too preoccupied as his muddled brain cells barely took in the question. “What?”

“I heard someone in the living room, I think.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Lucas replied, more focused on his current task.

Blue Eyes looked at Lucas. “Is it your Templar?”

The prince immediately stopped, his lust evaporating out of the window into the cold. He looked back towards the bedroom door, trying to listen, and unfortunately, he now heard what sounded like someone walking around. Fuck, he forgot about Tyler. Granted, he wasn’t expecting him to come to his room. Did he want to talk about something?

“Stay here,” He murmured, hands buttoning up his shirt as he slid off the bed. His bad shoulder hit the wall and he barely contained a yell of pain, choosing to walk it off and walk out of the room and into the living room.

“I’m here,” He said, scratching his head as he tried to force himself to focus. “Uh…’sup?”

Tyler had definitely heard talking. Then someone hitting the wall. He had definitely gotten into the wrong room someho- oh. There was Lucas. Weirdo. Then again, he was probably drunk. Tyler’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at his Scion.

“Nothing…?” he responded as he finally dropped onto the couch, “I see you continued the party without me.” He gave a loose gesture toward the emptied cups.

Lucas’ eyes followed the gesture, his brain fighting through the sludge of the whiskey he downed to make sense of the situation. He stood rigid, though he realized it didn’t make sense to hide that he was wasted when he had left the evidence there. Wait, why was he acting like nothing was wrong? The ridiculousness of it actually got him to relax a touch. He was fine. But what was Tyler doing here?

“I didn’t think you were interested,” He raised an eyebrow, swaying towards the wall and ending up leaning against it. “It’s been a long night.”

“You guessed right.” Tyler was going to be on edge for the next month at this rate, and he certainly wasn’t going to go another round with Captain Dickless tipsy. “Looks like you figured that out late though.” It was almost sweet. The prince must’ve poured him a drink, realized the ridiculousness of it, and promptly chugged it like a thirsty frat boy.

Tyler arched a brow as he noticed Lucas swaying. “Do you need to sit down?”

Lucas watched Tyler, a little confused. Well, shit, he was comfortable just waltzing into someone else’s room. That was going to make for some discomfort, especially as their previous conversation came into mind. Yeah, after the attack, he wasn’t going to know what privacy was anymore, huh? The thought soured his mood, but he couldn’t do much about it. At his question, Lucas shrugged with an “Eh,” as a response. He still didn’t say what he actually wanted.

“If you don’t want to drink, you want to talk?” He asked. “Or…what?”

Tyler wrinkled his nose in mild confusion. Mother above, this guy was an awkward drunk. Did he want to talk? Not particularly; they’d done enough talking for the night already.

“I kinda just wanna go to bed. Why, do you need to talk about something?”

The prince stared at Tyler, the gears of his mind whirring at his words. If he wanted to go to bed, what was he doing here? No, he needed to say that outside. He was thinking too much and going around in circles and the fact that it took him this long was embarrassing.

“No, I was planning on…bed, too,” He caught himself, though something in the back of his head wondered why his brain was trying when stringing together thoughts was nearly impossible since he couldn’t figure out what Tyler wanted. Unless he was coming onto him and he was so drunk he couldn’t see the signs? Lucas openly looked Tyler up and down. “...Are you coming on to me?” He ended up asking.

And there went the rest of Tyler’s patience. This guy really was a weirdo. He scowled at the insinuation and leaned back into the couch. “Yeah, you’re drunk. Go to bed.”

Alright, it was a stretch, but he needed to be sure. He waved off Tyler’s words and turned towards the bedroom, only for Blue Eyes to walk out, looking around the living room. He froze when he spotted Tyler, giving Lucas an uneasy look.

Lucas himself dismissed his look with a wave. “I guess he’s sleeping on the couch. It’s fine, c’mon,” He said.

Tyler stared incredulously as another figure emerged from the bedroom. His first instinct was to draw his weapon and run the assassin through, but Lucas stopped him with his comment. That certainly explained the two cups. And the awkwardness. He had a number of questions, first of which being ’why’, but getting this random guy out of their room would probably do wonders for his piece of mind.

“How did you even do that? Is this some courtesan or are you gonna get some poor servant fired for poor conduct?” Tyler barely acknowledged the other person in the room, as he had the strangest notion that he would never see him again in his life no matter how fondly his special little night with the prince turned out.

Blue Eyes opened his mouth but Lucas took a hold of his hand. “Three steps: a touch, a piercing gaze,” He demonstrated as he spoke, much to the embarrassment of the other man, and then he looked like he wanted to die once Lucas slammed his hand onto the wall next to him, trapping him. “And then a question: are we doing this or not?”

“I don’t think he was asking how that way,” Blue Eyes mumbled, hiding his flushed face.

“Then the answer is any idiot would be dying to get in bed with royalty. Not to mention I’m single and good looking,” He shrugged before peering at Blue Eyes, trying to see if Tyler was right. “I don’t think he’s a servant, but I’m not sure who he is,” He explained with a shrug, only to be met with a glare. “Listen, if it wasn’t for your ass, I wouldn’t have brought you here. You should be happy all those days in the gym are paying off.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“So he’s a security risk,” Tyler surmised, rolling his eyes at the display. He doubted this guy was particularly malicious, but whatever would get him out of their room faster. “I’m not particularly keen on listening to you two play snake in the butt from the next room over, so can I trouble you to take a rain check?” He leveled his question more toward the stranger than Lucas.

“Yes, right. Sorry,” Blue Eyes muttered, managing to dodge Lucas’ attempt to grab him in a display of dexterity–although out-maneuvering the drunk prince wasn’t too difficult.

Lucas covered his mouth as he let out a groan, his annoyance bubbling again. He waited until he heard the door close to ask, “What happened to that whole thing in the bathroom where you said you weren’t going to do…this–” He waved his arms around. “–and be up my ass all the time? Or do you get off on cockblocking?”

Tyler shook his head as the man left. “Listening to you fuck in the bed next to mine is pointedly not in my job description, nor is it something I ever intend to do.” Honestly, he didn’t know whether to be more exasperated with Lucas or the idiot who took him up on his offer after the night they’d just had. Theodore had behaved so well, Tyler almost forgot Scions were not, in fact, Incepta’s perfect little darlings at all times.

“The gaze of the Goddess is upon you now, act like it,” he exclaimed, the hypocrisy of the statement entirely lost on him.

The mention of the second bed tickled his mind a little, but it was put aside once Tyler decided to scold Lucas like he was some sort of troublemaker in school or something. Lucas leveled his Templar with a flat look, unhappy with the judgment. “Phoebus 12:15: Her eyes are on me when I wake, Her eyes are on me when I work, Her eyes are on me when I fall asleep–you need to brush up on your scripture, the Goddess is always watching,” It was an immature play at being annoying, but bringing Incepta into the conversation annoyed him greatly. “Not to mention your Templar training should have come with etiquette classes–royalty supersedes my Scion title, I’m Prince Lucas first and foremost, and everything that comes with that isn’t changing just ‘cause the Goddess thought it’d be hysterical to give me a broken gift.”

He wasn’t really sure what his point was, but he wasn’t fond of Tyler’s entire holier-than-thou shtick. “It’s not your fault that you’re stuck with me, especially since Theodore was a goody-two-shoes, but I’m not letting this change how I live my life. You either play along or fuck off.”

Tyler was half-tempted to spit some scripture back, especially since he doubtlessly held the moral high ground in this discussion, but then the prince transitioned into complaining, so Tyler let it go. “Got a little cuck chair all ready in the corner for me, huh? I thought you wanted me gone,” he mused as he stood from the couch. The discussion was going nowhere and he could save it for another time, frankly.

“I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to keep your pants on in my immediate presence. I’m not sleeping on a couch after I got beat up for you.”

The very last person Lucas would invite to his room in the evening would be his church-mandated babysitter, especially since Tyler would probably start talking about ‘how to be proper’ and ‘Incepta is watching’ or whatever other bullshit he had in mind. He wanted to tell him to get out so he could sleep until his last sentence. It was very likely unrelated to what Princess Belle and Scion Balder said, but it still pulled at the same string: what happened tonight was his fault.

“That’s not on me,” Lucas immediately replied, angry. “I didn’t cause this to happen–I didn’t go asking for a fucking tin man who decided to take the only thing I was supposed to be good for and throw it out the window. You don’t get to blame me for that, either.”

This again. Lucas really was fucking difficult. Tyler sighed wearily as he made his way to the bedroom, whether he had to shove the prince aside to do so or not.

“You don’t have to be the cause to acknowledge the fact that I did all of that on your behalf,” he grumbled, “I’m not even asking for gratitude, just the bare minimum courtesy to value the fact that I’m sore over getting your dick wet.” The fact that he even had to explain this was telling. Sure, an assassin could break in and finish the job while Tyler broke his back on the couch, but at least Prince Lucas would have proof he didn’t die a virgin! If he remembered a single speech Fyodor ever gave him, he’d have surely quoted it by now. Something about being an embarrassment, surely.

The urge to continue fighting was strong, but the desire to finish the conversation and just sleep was stronger. No, that was a lie, he wanted another drink. It wasn’t that Tyler was necessarily wrong, but admitting that at this point would be a loss Lucas didn’t want to take. It made more sense in his head. Through the cloudiness of the alcohol enticing him to have more, however, was a strong thought that he had ignored; a crystal clear clarity shimmered over him.

So he strolled back to the coffee table, snatched the whiskey once again, then threw himself onto the couch. “Have at it, then,” He said, pouring himself another cup. “Bed’s going to be a little messy, but you can still sleep on it.”

Oh, now Tyler was supposed to sleep in the fuck bed? He almost called the prince’s new favorite toy back to request a change of sheets, but he supposed Lucas really wouldn’t have a way to stop him from sleeping in the other one. Until he got in the bedroom, that is.

One fucking bed. Veradian hospitality must be slipping.

“You’re kidding,” he scoffed, “What was your plan here? Get the deed done real fast and hope I didn’t smell anything off when I got here?”

“I thought we had separate rooms,” Lucas admitted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “So my plan was to have fun, but I didn’t consider that Prince Rowan likely threw the Scions and Templars here together due to the other rooms being taken by all the other royals and nobles. Something something ‘the pious take the humble option’ or whatever.”

Tyler sighed again. It was a more acceptable answer than the alternative. “Dare I ask if there’s any strange fluids already strewn about?” he asked as he pulled the disheveled blankets back on one side of the bed. At least it looked clean.

“We only made out, Father Tyler, I promise by Scion Rosaria herself that no debauchery occurred!”

The templar didn’t bother with a response, and instead began stripping off the needless layers of dress clothes he still had on. Doubtlessly Lucas would have a comment, but hiding in the bathroom just to take a jacket off was too needlessly prudish even for Father Tyler, blessed be his name.

“I hope you don’t snore,” he muttered.

Lucas spent a minute scrolling through his phone as he drank, searching his name. As he figured, there were a multitude of news outlets already posting about the attack. There were a majority of journalists already yelling about how this just so happened to have taken place on Lucas’ coronation as a Scion. Wonderful. Once polished off his last glass, Lucas abandoned the cup and strolled into the bedroom, ignoring Tyler as he took off his own jacket. The bump he felt as he folded it reminded him of the fork–well, that was a problem for Tomorrow Lucas, Today Lucas just wanted to sleep now.

“Think I used to talk in my sleep as a kid,” He mumbled back, opening the dresser. He was relieved to find spare clothes already there, grabbing the pajamas before freeing himself of his tie. Lucas wasn’t about to undress and have Tyler make a comment about his back, so he decided to go to the bathroom, changing fully into the pajamas given. They were an atrocious yellow but the material was breathable, at least.

He left the fork in his jacket pocket and placed everything in the empty drawer space. He doubted the tuning fork would get any attention, but he didn’t exactly have a safe place to put it yet. Or did he? He didn’t even test if his magic was back. But a quick attempt told him that, no, he was shit out of luck. If it didn’t come back in the morning, he’d worry about it then.

Lucas got into bed, but yet another thing occurred to him. “Don’t hog the blanket or I’ll kick you off,” He warned.

The palace staff managed to prepare spare clothes for them but couldn’t fold out a damn futon? Tyler shook his head yet again and made for the same drawer Lucas did to pull out a pair of pants. He left the garishly colored shirt in place in favor of his own mildly-sweaty undershirt, but anything that would avoid him sleeping in his underwear next to Lucas was preferable in his eyes.

Thankfully, he managed to change before Lucas stepped back out of the bathroom. “I was gonna say the same to you, and you already know my kicks are meaner.” Tyler took his place on the opposite side of the bed with a grimace and put his manasaber pointedly on the nightstand within easy reach. Theo was, as he always was, no trouble to share a bed with. Lucas, on the contrary, had been trouble in just about every facet of his existence so far and Tyler expected nothing less while he was unconscious.

He did not have high hopes for the night.

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

The Snuggery

Once Lucas and Theobald had been served, Rosemary returned to Dominika. With all the grace of a lady-in-waiting older than she was, Rosemary poured out enough tea before she placed down the pot, offering it to the Metal Scion with her little pinky aloft. At the mention of Messy Marie and Petey and the Pumpkin, however, the façade of the proper princess cracked as her inner child shined through an excitement that had ignored the trauma of the night's events. She ended up turning on her heel and bolting towards the stepladder next to the shelves, unfolding it in front of the farthest one before hastily climbing up. Despite her rush, she knew exactly what she was looking for, and by the time the conversation ended, she returned with an armful of books.

She placed them down respectfully, laying them all out on the table for all to see. As opposed to the typical standard copies the Scions had likely seen in their lives, the age of Rosemary's books indicated that they were originals. Despite their age, however, they were clearly lovingly cared for, and the princess was delicate in her handling of them. The watercolor art shifted in colors from one story to the next, the characters simplistic and pleasing to the eyes.

Rosemary climbed onto the empty seat and sat on her legs, reaching over and tapping each book. "These were my great-grandpa's books when he was little," She explained as she tenderly opened the copy of William's Prayer in front of her. "He used to say this one was his favorite 'cause this is how the Goddess gave the world Scions and the pictures are really nice 'cause the painter that made the book did it 'cause my great-grandpa didn't have books with pictures and they only had words and he really liked the painting. He used to read them to me before I learned to read but now Sonia reads them to me before I go to sleep."

She barely took a breath as she talked, more interested in the portrayal of Incepta visiting Phoebus and Cynthia. While the characters were painted with outlines, Incepta was painted in entirely golden colors and was partially out of frame, likely out of respect. Rosemary lightly tapped the picture. "She kinda looks like the lady in my dreams. But I can't see her face...and the one in my dreams was crying," Rosemary frowned, but she didn't linger as she pushed the book aside and opened up another one. "This one isn't popular like the other ones--The Prince and the Pauper, this one's about a prince that has someone that looks just like him and they switch places but it's silly because the real Prince can't just go outside like the story, 'cause every time I wanna go outside Sonia always goes with me and there's guards. So silly."

She leaned over to her side and tapped Lucas' shoulder. "Which one is your favorite?"

The grumpy Lucas didn't look at her, a sour look on his face partially hidden by his cup. "Favorite what?"

"Your favorite story."

"The Redemption of Anani."

Rosemary pushed his shoulder, annoyed. "No, like a real story! Like Messy Marie or Petey and the Pumpkin."

That got Lucas to roll his eyes, though he controlled his expression as he turned his head to look at Rosemary. "I just said my favorite. They just never made a children's version of it," He explained calmly.

"Okay, then what is your favorite chil-duh-ren's- story?" She asked, mocking his emphasis.

Lucas stared at Rosemary for a moment before his eyes briefly scanned the books on the table. "...William's Prayer," He muttered, returning to his cup.

Satisfied, Rosemary threw her arms up in victory before focusing back on the book mentioned. "How old were you when got the si...si-gil," Her last word was slow and she had a little trouble getting it out, though she aimed the question at her fellow Scions.

"Twenty-four since it was just a week ago,"" Lucas replied, surprising Rosemary.

Encouraged by his response, Rosemary tapped her cheek. "Mine came when I was a baby!"

---

_{@Raijinslayer@Xiro Zean@Abstract Proxy}

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

“My father gave this to me on his deathbed for safekeeping. But it was always meant for Theodore–Now it belongs to you.”

Even people that lived under a rock knew that Theodore Estora was destined for greatness. The son of a duke yearned for more and dedicated his life to the betterment of people's lives. He was talented, he was charismatic, he was adored by everyone who met him. Even in private he was sincere and kind-hearted, a stark contrast from the majority of nobles whose masks were only loosely tied to their faces. When he became Scion after King Reginald passed, many had seen it as a natural progression. And it was; he immediately used his elevated status to do good and even began steps towards the unthinkable task of peace talks with a country that had warred with the Estoran Foundation for centuries. So it wasn't really surprising to learn that there were things Theodore was literally destined for, that there was something important enough that Henry had a thousand-year-old artifact meant just for him.

And now apparently Lucas had to deal with it.

As much as he knew that Henry would not have given something so precious to him if there wasn't a level of absolute trust, Lucas couldn't handle it at the moment. He wasn't going to toss the thing out the window or casually stuff it into a potted plant, but he was not ringing this thing right this second. Aside from his gut telling him that once he did there was no going back, it was just too much. He didn't want to be a Scion, he didn't want someone following him around all the time, and he didn't want to have to deal with some crazy robot man after his life. Now that the dust had settled, what was supposed to be a comforting return to a place he considered his childhood home was now filled with dread and anxiety and he didn't want that. Not here. Veradis Castle was supposed to be his sanctuary, he went so far as to avoid fucking it up with his presence all these years and tonight threatened the peaceful memories he wanted to preserve.

Lucas didn't even remember walking into his assigned room, but now that he was here, he figured he may as well change his pants--he didn't want to disturb Rosemary further with the sight of blood. He wasn't a fan of any of the shirts provided, so he stuck with the blue dress shirt he had under his jacket and a pair of black slacks. As he made to leave, he noticed the stocked mini-bar, noticing a particular brand of whiskey he had favored. A drink to calm the nerves wouldn't be the worst thing. If he showed up all jittery and jumpy, Rosemary would worry. Showing up blasted would probably achieve the same effect, but getting a buzz would be fine. Probably. Maybe. Despite his hesitance, down the hatch the alcohol went, and he left the room significantly calmer.

Or at least, he was fine until he heard that obnoxious 'clicking' of a pair of heels that he had personally tossed out a window once due to their incessant noise. Of course the Princess of Rosaria would pick the noisiest pair of heels to wear. She was rubbing her arm, expression unconcentrated as she walked, though once she spotted him, she put on that stupid scowl she always had on whenever he was the one she was looking at. Mercifully, she continued to walk right past him. Unfortunately, he was now in a fighting mood.

"The snuggery too childish for Her Royal Highness' taste?" Lucas asked.

Belle's footsteps came to a stop. He heard her let out a long sigh, but sure enough, those stupid click-clacking heels of hers stomped over to him. It was a genuine delight to know that just speaking was enough to illicit a reaction out of her. She placed her hands on her hips, her dress clinging to her in all the right places. Belle had earned her nickname, but like always, that beauty evaporated once she spoke: "Must you antagonize tonight as well? Don't you feel you've done enough?"

That said, Lucas was genuinely shocked at her words. "What the fuck do I have to do with the attack?"

"It was your debut. Clearly, it's a sign of things to come," She snapped.

Lucas couldn't help but just stare incredulously. "You're not hot enough to be that fucking stupid, just so you're aware," He informed her.

Her face turned red as she bristled with anger. Apparently he struck a nerve. "You--You are insufferable," She hissed.

He shrugged and waved her off. "Good to see you finally up to speed with the rest of the world," He commented as he continued on his way. Honestly, he hadn't planned on having yet another spat with the Rosarian princess, but she had a special way of saying dumb shit that pissed him off. She really acted like the attack was his fault! As angry as he was, however, there was a slight panic underneath it. If she knew about the tin man coming after him, she'd have a field day over it. Everyone would.

Whatever semblance of a good mood Lucas had was gone with that line of thinking, and by the time Lucas arrived at the princess' snuggery, his mood was foul. Rosemary stood next to the table, likely having offered tea, and the Scions of Fire, Earth and...he wanted to say the quiet chick was Metal. He wasn't a fan of Justice and he was pretty sure he saw the tall guy beat a woman on their way in, which left the chick as the only unknown.

"The one with a massive chip on his shoulder, the woman beater, and..." He gestured to Justice and Balder respectively before looking at...whatever the fuck this girl's name was. "A woman. Do be sure to behave." He walked around Rosemary and tapped one of the empty cups, watching as the little girl moved to pour him tea.

---

_{@Abstract Proxy@Xiro Zean@Raijinslayer}

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Every limb Lucas had felt stiff, like he had never stretched them before. His movements were on the sluggish side but he refused to let himself lag behind and have that banshee Dame Sonia or the ice witch Dame Irina come bark at him to hurry up. The conversation with Tyler had done wonders for his mental exhaustion, and he was determined to undertake his instruction and make himself somewhat useful. Duchess Bachmeier was as stern as ever, but she was about the same as a majority of the Bachmeiers. Once he had collected bandages to cover the spots where he was getting bruised–including one he had missed on left cheek, probably from where his face collided with Tyler’s armor repeatedly–he felt like he shouldn’t waste the opportunity he was presented with. Veradis Castle was home to him once and boasted a magnificent library. The Estora library bore him nothing in regards to his condition, so he was hoping he would have better luck here.

It was strange how a foreign castle felt more like home than his own did. Then again, a majority of his youth was spent here. That and he took every chance he could to stay outside of Estora Castle he could get. He needed no direction and went on his way, ignoring the looks he got from Templars as he went in a direction no others went. The palace was absolutely swarmed with palace knights; he assumed everyone was called to duty. Despite the night’s events, Lucas felt it was overkill; attacking some noble’s manor was one thing, but attacking Veradis Castle was just stupid and he doubted that the terrorists would do as much. Tonight’s attack was carefully calculated and relied on logic and tactic. They won their prize if Ulysse’s death and Nadine’s disappearance said anything, going any further would unravel their win.

He scratched the spot above the bandage on his face before he spotted Elijah. He wondered if he could get away with strong-arming the Archbishop into letting him leave. The one thing Veradis Castle didn’t have was his bed, and he wanted to sleep in it. His tracks already altered and he approached the man, only stopping when he realized he was talking to someone else.

Archbishop Elijah was in deep conversation with Henry Bachmeier, Rosemary’s grandfather. He looked the same as ever; his eyes were sharp and focused, his stature domineering whoever he interacted with, yet he was attentive to every word Elijah spoke. Not that Lucas thought Elijah would waste his time since Henry wouldn’t subject himself to a conversation he had no interest in.

Interrupting was in poor taste, but Lucas couldn’t help himself. He approached the pair and gave a respected bow. “Archbishop, Dowager Prince, I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion,” Lucas stated once his head was raised.

The archbishop gave Lucas a gentle smile. “Not at all. I am glad to see you here,” Elijah said. “I wanted to offer any comfort I could to the holy ones, but I fear the night’s events may have taken their toll and rest would be paramount to anything said. Will you not be resting, Your Highness?”

“I will, I just hoped to get some reading for the night,” Lucas’ initial desire to leave had evaporated in Henry’s presence, his eyes flickering to the man.

Elijah seemed to catch Lucas’ gaze and he looked to Henry. “If you’ll excuse me, then. Dame Sonia was kind enough to take over palace security, but I must offer her my support while Dame Irina debriefs the Templars.” He bowed to the pair and took his leave.

Lucas didn’t give Elijah much attention once he was out of sight, but now that they were alone, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. It was like the buildup to the moment had culminated in a quiet nervousness as he looked up at Henry, suddenly feeling like he was a child again.

For a moment, Henry paid him no mind; instead, as the archbishop departed, he whipped out a smartphone and tapped at it, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was seeing. After a moment, he pocketed it, turning a critical eye to Lucas.

“First my father’s funeral, and now this; does it always take a disaster for you to come visit?” he chided, raising a skeptical brow. His tone was matter-of-fact, but the Dowager’s hard-driving sense of humour was familiar to Lucas.

“Ah, but where are my manners?” Henry continued, motioning for Lucas to join him in a pair of plush leather chairs. “It is no longer Prince, but Scion, I hear. Still imitating your cousin, I see.”

The faintest hint of regret flashed over the older man’s face, but only for an instant; his features were schooled politely neutral by the time he sat in his seat. Once settled, Henry looked at Lucas frankly. “So, what do you want?”

An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but if Lucas was being honest, it would be an empty one. Besides, Henry would give him a tongue lashing if he did. True, he had distanced himself from Veradis after the death of Prince Aaron, and any legitimate reason he could have would just come off as hollow. He took his seat, taking care not to press his bloodied leg pant against the leather.

“That would be the fate of the Estoran Star,” He couldn’t really hold himself back after Henry brought up Theodore, but it was true. Theodore's shadow was large and Lucas didn't think it was possible to step out of it. But he didn’t linger on it as he decided to get straight to it; he couldn’t bullshit his own mentor. “I need something that’ll give me some insight into previous Scions. Ever since I inherited this magic, everything has gone to shit.”

“Doing your homework at long last?” Henry feigned shock. “I never thought I’d know the day when Lucas Estora sought out a religious education.”

Henry made himself comfortable, examining some speck on the armrest before continuing. “Considering you only formally became the Scion of Time this afternoon, I daresay you’ve set the speed record for things going to shit,” he suggested casually, before fixing Lucas with a piercing look. “But you’re not talking about the attack tonight.”

Lucas maintained eye contact, knowing that there was no use in waffling about. “No, although I’m sure the press will have a field day on how my debut will herald terrible luck for the next thirteen years or whatever bullshit they can think of,” That much they agreed on. He stopped, still guarded, but as he remembered telling Tyler, he knew it was better not to be alone in his struggle.

“My mana has been haphazard; publicly, I have been Scion for a week, but it’s been two. That first week was filled with seizures and attacks that have put me to my knees, and my holy sigil didn’t show up until seven days later,” He confessed in full, letting everything out. “And even after its appearance, things have been strange. I have a complete handle on my magic, but my visions result in a variety of physical ailments that have never been present on any of my predecessors. And said visions are incomplete, or hazy, or haphazard, none of which is right.”

He finally lowered his gaze, his heart thumping against his chest as his hand gripped the arm of the chair nervously. “And this morning, I foresaw a moment of camaraderie…with Theodore in my place.”

Henry listened quietly, growing visibly less enthused as Lucas went on. When he finished, the older man simply stared for a moment, examining each detail of the Prince in deep thought. Finally, he pressed into the armrest of his chair, muttering, “Nemo audiat.”

A blue ripple raced across every surface in the room, dampening all sound considerably. “And you thought it was wise to blurt all of that out in the middle of the library?” Henry asked condescendingly, rolling his eyes.

The prince stared at Henry, though he muttered, “I kept my voice down.”

“You used to keep your voice down when you chatted with your cousin past bedtime, too,” Henry shot back sarcastically, looking visibly agitated. It was a strange sight; the Dowager was always so composed, it was utterly foreign to see him not fully in control of his emotions. He looked away for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. “You weren’t lying; everything really is going to shit.”

Lucas was more than surprised at this sudden display; he was pretty sure he had never seen Henry like this. Even his cooing over his granddaughter was controlled, but this–if he didn’t know any better, he would think there was something that made the older man nervous. Henry Bachmeier, nervous! And unfortunately, that made Lucas’ anxiety creep up on him all over again.

“What do you mean by ‘everything’?” He asked, straightening up in his seat. “Because of the attack?”

“The attack is only a symptom,” Henry shook his head, waving off Lucas’ concern. “I mean everything. For one, this is all unfolding much sooner than it was supposed to.”

Henry didn’t elaborate, instead retrieving his phone as it buzzed repeatedly in his pocket. He scoffed at whatever the message was, tapping out a quick response before pocketing it again. He looked back up at Lucas, his gaze seemingly boring straight through the young Prince, before he conceded to whatever inward argument he seemed to be having with himself, and sighed.

“There’s a lot to catch you up on, Scion Lucas,” Henry stated flatly, standing up. “But there’s no time, not now. For now, you’ll have to settle for this.”

Henry murmured a spell, and a golden light pulsed under the fabric of his suit jacket, like a single glowing heartbeat. Reaching into that spot, Henry seemingly rooted around for a moment before pulling a long, silver object from his jacket: a tuning fork.

He motioned for Lucas to come closer, holding the tuning fork out for inspection. “My father gave this to me on his deathbed for safekeeping. But it was always meant for Theodore,” Henry explained. For all the tenderness the mention of an heirloom should have invoked, his tone was deathly serious. “Now, it belongs to you.”

There was a split second where Lucas absolutely hated how Henry referred to him. But he couldn’t dwell on that thought as his confusion wouldn’t get resolved, especially once Henry stood. Lucas stepped forward, biting his tongue to prevent himself from asking anything since it likely wouldn’t get answered anyway. The display of magic came as a surprise, but what was really the icing on top of the upside down cake was what Henry pulled out.

A tuning fork.

There was nothing different about it from the others Lucas had seen, even if it was a little bigger than a standard one. There was no hiding the mix of confusion and disbelief, though Lucas immediately looked up at Henry as he mentioned who it was meant for. He felt his chest tighten at the mention of Prince Aaron, but he didn’t understand anything.

“What is this for?” Lucas had to ask. “I haven’t played the piano since Theo died.”

Henry’s eyes burned, the older man clearly incensed, but he composed himself. “This is how you’re going to make sense of this debacle,” he hissed, “It was entrusted to William Bachmeier by Scion Anani herself, and now it’s yours.”

Henry took Lucas’ wrist, pressing the fork into his hand. He poked a finger into his chest, giving him a dangerous glare. “Keep it safe. Guard it with your life. If I hear you’ve lost it or let it get stolen, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

It didn’t seem like he was being sarcastic.

The glare was enough to silence any other question Lucas could have had. Granted, it was a tuning fork, so ringing it was likely the solution. But he almost wanted to call bullshit; now that he had it in his hand, the thing looked brand new. What kind of preservation techniques did the Bachmeiers have?! How could Anani have given this to William a thousand years ago if it looked like any old tuning fork he could get from a music shop? He almost wanted to ask if Henry was fucking with him, but he knew better.

His fingers gripped the tuning fork tightly and Lucas nodded at Henry. “Yes, sir,” He replied quietly. “I understand.”

Henry searched Lucas’ eyes for a moment longer, and apparently satisfied with what he saw, he removed his finger from the Prince’s sternum, moving instead to grasp him firmly by the shoulder. “May you walk in the light of the Goddess,” Henry blessed him like a father, every word utterly sincere.

With that, he dismissed the spell on the room, and the clamour of servants and guards was conspicuously audible from the hallway once more. Henry looked tired as his phone buzzed again, the Dowager snapping back to his usual temperament as he eyed the screen with haughty contempt.

“I have to go; and so do you,” Henry concluded, releasing Lucas’ shoulder at last. With that, he moved to exit the library, pausing only to add over his shoulder, “And try to visit sometime when everything isn’t going to shit.”

Lucas’ eyes never left Henry even as he walked away, and he caught himself reaching out to him. Part of him wanted Henry to stay longer, to stay with him. But ultimately, he put his hand down, knowing that he had no real justification for it. He was entrusted with something clearly important and was determined not to let Henry down. Of course, once Henry left Lucas alone, it was like everything came crashing down on him at once. The stress was giving him a headache, his anxiety gripped his chest and made it hard to breathe, and his exhaustion threatened to come back in full force. It was too much for one night.

Lucas placed the tuning fork in the pocket of his jacket, deciding that he had everything he needed from the library. He took in a deep breath and composed himself before departing.

Post Deletion Request

one more plssss

roleplayerguild.com/posts/5495753

ily ur the best

A Hero's Training!

The Rookie

Asher Everett

________________________________________ Asher Everett Male | 22 | Veradis Templar of Earth _______________________________________________ "That poor kid is in for a reality check." ________________________________________

"Templar Everett reporting for duty, sir--uh, ma'am! Sorry ma'am!" Minor Holy Sigil Location ? Appearance Standing tall and rigid at five feet eleven inches, Asher packs a surprisingly athletic build despite his casual deposition. He has no real preference for his attire, but any article of clothing he owns is up to standards and free of any wrinkles, tears, or loose threads. He does his best to tame his hair, but has had little success. Personality Upbeat, cheerful, and overall friendly, Asher is a regular ball of sunshine and optimism. He looks to see the positive side of every situation he finds himself in and does his best to make others see his point of view. He isn't afraid to crack a joke when needed and often tries to lighten the mood when he deems it necessary. He comes off as a bit of an airhead, sometimes not understanding double-meanings and takes things at face value most of the time. Despite his inexperience, he is a stickler for the rules and follows all protocols to the letter. He doesn't let his lack of experience affect his confidence and is surprisingly decisive when needed, and he is self-assured when it comes to his own abilities. Biography x Weapon of Choice He carries a handgun with him at all times, though his gun of choice is a shotgun. He is trained with the use of a longsword and carries one with him, but admits he'll defer to his gun first. He has a sniper rifle custom made, but seems to get hung up on the idea of using it. Misc. Now, come in with the timpanis And take a shot of Hennessy I know I'm not there mentally But you could be the remedy So let me play my violin for you Extremely pious, but he does sometimes mix up quotes from the Mother's Scripture. Plays the violin with an impressive proficiency Makes the best grilled cheese you'll ever have

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

The cacophony of chaos quelled with the arrival of Dame Irina and her men. What was once a tempest of gunfire and screams subsided and the crowds thinned as civilians were herded out. Those of importance were shepherded to Stern Hill while the rest were ushered to the Holy Mother Hospital. Duke Gile was currently in custody to be interrogated. Many were injured, others lost their lives. What was once a scene of festivities and entertainment was now hollow. Glass littered the floor and there wasn’t a single piece of furniture that was intact. The cold, winter air filled the room at this point, the floodlights casting long shadows over the disaster.

White-clad responders picked through the wreckage, assisting any injured civilians into ambulances and collecting and cataloging the unfortunate deceased. Compared to the tumult of the conflict, the low murmuring of the responders and the crackling of indistinct radio chatter sounded like eerie silence.

Among the paramedics and the undertakers, Dame Irina surveyed the scene, sweeping her cool, calculating gaze over fallen friend and foe alike with apparent indifference. Her saber sheathed at her side, the only indication that she’d had anything to do with the battle was the blood still caked on her uniform; as she walked through the wreckage, boots clicking on the ruined marble floor, she more closely resembled an impartial arbiter than an active combatant. She took a close look at the face of each body she came across, occasionally tapping something on her watch. No body was taken away until she authorized it.

Finally, she made it to the mouth of an adjoining hallway, where one particular body lay in a pool of blood and debris. Another Templar knelt beside it, examining it closely until Dame Irina approached, at which point he hastily stood.

Irina paid him little heed; instead, she knelt next to the body, producing a handkerchief and using it to turn the corpse enough to see its face. She lingered on the sight for a moment longer than the rest, but her expression was unreadable.

“Do you think he was outnumbered?” Irina asked suddenly, rising to her feet. Her Rodion accent was unusually strong.

The soldier nodded, looking down at the body. “Most likely. The bullet wounds seem to come from several angles, and I would be surprised if a single opponent could have bested Ulysse.”

Irina followed his gaze, squinting suspiciously at the baseball-sized hole in Ulysse’s chest. “Much about this evening has been… surprising,” she replied gravely.

“There’s more,” the soldier continued. “I searched his body. His armour crystal is gone.”

Irina’s head snapped up. “He deactivated it?”

The soldier shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it was…” he visibly cringed, ”removed.”

Irina flared back down at the body, kneeling once more to examine the chest wound more closely. Whatever she saw, she did not seem to like.

She stood, tapping her watch. “Request an autopsy,” she ordered, “and assign an escort. Do not let this body out of your sight.” Her watch beeped, and with one last glance at Ulysse, she swept off to the next body.

---

At Stern Hill, every Scion and Templar is ushered through a barrier appearing as a stone wall. When they cross through, they are treated to a small, underground tunnel where a small bullet train waits for them. Once they are ushered in, the train takes off immediately with no sign of where it is going. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and several guards bearing the Veradis crest greet the crew and guide them out.

Once the group ascended from the tunnel, they were introduced to the interior of Veradis Castle. The castle’s great hall had a multitude of stained glass windows depicting several scenes of Incepta as a radiant, golden goddess bathed in celestial light. A multitude of fireflies glowed through the glass, lighting up the glass along with the moonlight. The walls held several tapestries and everything from the standing candelabra to the curtains were decorated with the suns of Veradis.

The group were led to a wing and stepped through an elaborate barrier. Once through, they were greeted by two rows of servants bowing to them, with one woman standing at the end. She was a stern looking woman, her ebony hair in a perfect braid crown at the base of her head as her emerald eyes surveyed the Scions and their Templars.

She approached the group and bowed. “Greetings, holy ones. I am Duchess Patricia Bachmeier. I will be personally overseeing your stay here with us in the Rose Wing,” She spoke with an air of respect and authority. “I have been instructed by Archbishop Elijah to have all Scions looked after as Dame Irina has summoned the Templars to Ballroom A. If there are any injuries, the medical team is located on the first door on my right-handside. If it would please you, the Scions have been invited to Her Highness’ Snuggery where she eagerly waits to host you. Of course, if you are weary and wish to retire, we are happy to lead you to your rooms per the Archbishop’s order. Whatever your wish, you need only ask and we will provide to the best of our ability.”