The Seven

D smirked as he overheard the conversation. Rich. Oh, he felt the old man's eyes "going hard" on him but like he cared. He chuckled softly. Who was he to stand between a man and his sword? Pretty stupid, either way. Not worth getting sentimental over. One less Seven to worry about babysitting. He yawned and stretched. Some men preferred women. This man obviously preferred his sword. "If you're going to do something, get to it," he said although he didn't make it clear who he was talking to or perhaps it was both to the First and her lapdog.
 
Wolf made no movement when Elethan responded. In twenty years no one had ever tried to make Wolf an offer, or any real way out of his situation. "Then what is the reward?" He asked. His response had a subtle trace of uncertainty, but it also did not do as well of a job in hiding his position.
 
Saerith only intended on taking the gun from him and leaving. She didn't like going on personal errands. She preferred to let her cronies do the dirty work but Dresner was an exception. Him and the twin brother that had gone missing almost a lifetime ago.

As she walked past, she paused when Dresner took her arm. Odd. He usually didn't like touching people. Or at least that's what she assumed. The news he shared with her was even more so. His brother. Alive?

"These are complicated times. Fa always said things happen for a reason. In this case, I need you to do a job for me. I offer you the usual fee. It's a simple task, really. A rival of mine has stepped over his boundaries. I want to make an example of him. His daughter." She produced a portrait of a pretty young blonde with deep blue eyes wearing a pink gown sitting properly with her hands clasped in her lap. "She leaves on a train at midnight, bound for Vestria. Kill and destroy at your leisure. I want the girl's head on a silver platter."


I let go of her and step back. The news was delivered and now there was business to discuss. "Always a pleasure to help a friend." I bow, as is customary. Fmalboyant, arms spread, theatrical. I gase at the picture. She is young, pretty, and known to me. I once saw her picture on the desk of a client.

"Marietta Du Fonte. Daughter of Francis Du Fonte, founder and owner of most probably the most well connected arms manufacturers... besides your own." I think for a second. "She will be heavily guarded and alone in the carriage besides her body guard, but I can sue that to by advantage....." Already a plan formed in my mind. "This is a statement, a warming... I belive I have a suitable plan." I smile. She will not get beyong the city limits and you will have her head in the morning. But I believe since this will be risky.. 5% above the usual fee."


Saerith was thoughtful. She always was. One didn't get to her position without weighing costs, gains, and potential drawbacks. Then she finally grinned under her hood. "Wise as always. 5% it is. You know where to find me."

She had a private penthouse in the city. She liked to spend her time there, although it wasn't uncommon for her to be away for days at a time for business. She looked down at the gun.

"Your gun. Would you like any special modifications to better ... deal with this new discovery of yours?"


I think back to the fight. He was now wearing any armor, rather stupidly, but Its only a matter of time before he finds some. Speaking of which hes acquired an even bigger handgun, I'll be needing some armor myself, timned to balistic weapons." I pause realizing just who I am planning to kill, but it is only a moment. "The gun is fine, I just need ot made more responsive. I can't have her making me miss the critical shot." my voice, it is louder than I meant it to be. Emotions are coming unbidden but I push them aside. But on question persists. Was the hesitation from the gun, or my hand. I scold myself, such thoughts are dangerous. He stands between me and my mark. And the obstacle will be removed.
 
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[size=+1]Cervantes[/size]

Cervantes's attention could very well be interpreted to be placed elsewhere, as he was leaned back heavily in his chair, balancing it on the tip of the massive slab of metal with an edge he used as his instrument of destruction. Closing his eyes as Arthur talked about retrieving a sword, Cervantes instead focused his attention on a pair of Blue Jays that were circling a tree that wasn't too far from them at the moment. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened intently to the flapping of their wings, and envisioned them in flight between the leafs and branches of the old Oak tree.

"If you're going to do something, get to it."

The voice was unfamiliar, however he hadn't heard Rose, or Arthur rise to defense, and so he continued to sit there reclined as if in his own little world. Every now and then, his fuschia eyes opened long enough to take in their surroundings, and to keep an eye on Gwen as she continued to agitate the market fish with a childlike disposition of awe, and wonder. The princess was still just a girl. A girl thrust into something that was so confusing, and beyond her. She was still just a girl.

That seemed so strange to him. The princess being simply a girl for all intents and purposes. Her station did her nothing at the moment, and would only bring harm should it be discovered... to simply be something you weren't. Perhaps it was something that they all were longing for at the moment.







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Elathan let out a sigh, an index finger scratching at one of his temples while he thought of the best way to word his response. Talking to people was not his greatest strength... Most of his life, he was anti-social with no interest in bettering the skill of communication. Track, kill, slaughter: that's all he really knew how to do!

"Have you ever wanted a place in the world?" he decided to ask, thinking of his own situation in the past. The half-demon himself had no purpose until he met Amy, after all. "Or just... To be free? I'm not talking about freedom to roam or to speak. Freedom from the cruelty of those who exiled you; who don't respect you.

My Queen, Amethyst, can give that to you. A place in her army, a job in the castle... Whatever it may be that you want, you'll have, so as long as you're loyal to her. You'll always have allies to defend and support you, too."

Mischief twinkled in his eyes as he put his hands behind his back, his gaze locked on just one section of the forest he assumed Wolf to be. "What say you?"
 
THE TOWN OF MUSKEN

"You're leaving?" Gwendolyn appeared at the table just in time for Arthur's goodbye. Her expression confused and doubtful, she glanced at the group of them. It was short lived, as Drystan finally arrived. Gwen grinned and was ready to hassle him with a barrage of questions, but Rose quickly interjected.

"Yes. Arthur and I have something we must do. You should be safe here until we send contact." Rose had no reply for Drystan, though she did raise an eyebrow at his arrival. There were questions she wanted to ask, but without their complete Seven...

"If there is need to leave we will meet again at She Who Cries Golden Tears." To anyone outside of the Seven, the phrase would sound like gibberish. But to the men, it was a clear hint to the next location. If they were taught properly.

With those as her last words, both Rose and Arthur made a swift exit. Leaving Gwendolyn in the capable hands of Cervantes and Drystan.


Gwen clasped her hands behind her back, watching first Cervantes and then Drystan. Despite the weight of what was happening, now that she finally had rest and food, she was in high spirits. ..and filled with boundless curiosity for everything she laid eyes on.

"There is some sort of festival in the village today! Can we go?"

----

THE ROYAL THRONE ROOM

Interrupting the High General Richter and Zoreal's conversation, the doors to the Throne Chamber suddenly opened. A tall woman, platinum blond hair streaked with grey and wearing long dark robes, stared down her nose at them. She took a look at the clipboard in her hands.

"Come."

The curt word was all she said as she led the way down the long carpeted isle. The throne room was large, yet sound seemed to be absorbed instead of echoing in the rafters. At the end of the long carpet was the Queen. Sitting dressed in all of her finery, a violet gown trimmed in gold and fitted to her form. The Royal Crown sitting regally on her head. She wore a fetching smile, warm with greeting as she nodded to her assistant and then to the two Knights that stood before the throne.

"I apologize for summoning you so early, only to greet you so late, myself. This tragedy within my own walls and the fate of my own dear daughter has been giving me much grief.." The warm smile faded, revealing just how weary and tired she was with the situation. It was clear to anyone that looked at her that she was stressed by the situation and struggling to keep up appearances.

Her Majesty took a deep breath, putting on that brave face again. This time her look and voice taking a more serious tone. "It pains me, this news I must give you and the request I have to make. I have been given word, that Elsovaren is amassing an army at our borders to seek vengeance for the murder of their ambassador. I fear that war is now knocking at our door. The armies must be prepared and sent to the border at once to prepare for the inevitable invasion."
 
"Tch," Richter's featureless faceguard was the polar opposite of what lay beneath. Richter's clenched his teeth under closed lips and his eyes narrowed. This was nothing short of awful. A war over a murder where the accused felt off to being with. No one in the room could measure Richter's desire to yell, scream, and object. "That's a bunch of fucking bullshit!" or "We've got the murderer and they want to shed more blood over one fucking person!?" came to mind. He only agreed with half of that last thought though...so why not? Its not like Richter's tendency to speak his mind when he could get away with it was unknown.

"That's a load of bullshit. One person dies and then they want to involve people who had nothing to do with it?! They know what the Vykendrian army is capable of! What I'm capable of! So now innocent people have to die because some fucker sitting on at the head of the Elsovaren government is going nuts over one person!?"

It was this side, this contradiction, of Richter that got him his reputation before being High General. To command dark power yet having such powerful morals broke the stereotype of others of the same vein. Richter took a deep breath and regained his composure. As usual, an outburst of anger and disbelief followed a calm. He calmly reasoned to himself it was the civilians that were innocent. Calling the Elsovaren army innocent was wild speculation. Perhaps they...

"Surely we have spies over there. Are there any reports I could look over? What's the general disposition of the people? Do they desire this war as well?" Its not like their desire to fight or not would change the way they proceeded. If there was a threat to the people he was obligated to help protect and protect he would. It would just make it a lot easier if he knew that the soldiers or citizens over there didn't care either.
 
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[size=+1]Cervantes[/size]

Slowly rising from his chair, Cervantes slowly rested his sword against his back with the small magnets on his weapon harness engaged to hold the massive slab of metal in place.

"If there is need to leave we will meet again at She Who Cries Golden Tears."

Nodding to the words, Cervantes turned his attention back to the blue jays which were now flying of towards the center of town. A silent sigh escaped his lips, and then he focused his eyes on Drystan, and Gwen as Rose, and Arthur left. Once again the Seven was split further.

"There is some sort of festival in the village today! Can we go?"

Gwen seemed to feeling better, and had spring in her step. The question she asked caused him to look at Drystan as he then answered "There should be little harm in it." Cervantes had himself wanted to view the goings on, and in turn gather information on their surroundings. What safer place to hide a person than in a large crowd?









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I felt like a child caught where he didn't belong as the chromed metal was reveled from under the protection of dusty white cloth.

He always did like to show off. Counterpoint to my sleek black bike his was larger, bright and loud. Recessed vents hid heavy machine guns, an inelegant machine it ever there was one but she was fast and available.

Devian, where are you? Who have you become? I take comfort you will not be you when your blood covers my hands. Sensing me near the bike rises from the floor, handlebars extending inviting my hands. She awaits, it is I who hesitate.

I grip the controls and her turbines spin up, the intricate mechanism checking themselves for problems, of course there are none. Slowly I check my equipment, stalling. I am a very different sight than what I was barely a few minuets ago. Custom designed my clothes modify my body shape. Rounding my hips, filling my chest, squeezing my waist. Not even my brother could recognize me for a man. I could press myself against him and he wouldn't suspect a thing. Over that is a brightly colored costume, that of a circus harlequin covers every inch of skin, even my head as a mask covers my face. The mask is not the one I usually wear, but one of the festival I will blend into. No weapons, only a silver flute hangs on my waist next to an injection I will have to inject strait into my throat when I wish my voice to change and will last no more than a few hours.

I am ready to meet this princess, and delay her action long enough to return for my midnight date.
 
At the news of the war, many questions and misgivings began forming in Zorael's mind. Questions like, "How long will we be deployed?" and "Will we be on the front lines or command from the rear?". Misgivings such as, "What does Elsovaren have to gain from an invasion?" and "Who really stands to gain from this war?". However, unlike Richter, who had managed to garner trust by proving his self-control, Zorael had gotten to where he was by proving his compliance. As such, the drow held his tongue in front of the Queen, saving his quandaries for his cot in the barracks.

After the High-General had finished his 'rant', Zorael spoke. "My Queen, thank you for the honor and privilege that is leading our army in the defense of our homeland. Might I ask as to when we will be deploying?" Zorael had kept his head bowed during this. Even as high ranking as he was, he was still viewed with mistrust by many because of his race. He had long ago learned that one appeared less threatening when showing respect, regardless of whether or not it was deserved, to those with whom one spoke.
 
"Watch your tongue before the Queen, General!" The grey hair woman hissed in Richter's direction.

The Queen held up a hand to silence her. Though she raised an eyebrow at the High General's outburst, her countenance remained the same as she let him finish and his Knight speak his mind as well.

"It grieves me that it comes to this, My General. Yet, if rulers always ruled with level heads and pure intent then we would not have War nor find ourselves where we are this day." With another flicker of her hand, her woman stepped away for several moments to a table that was situated behind the throne. Once she reappeared, she had several papers rolled in to a scroll as well as a small hand held data tablet. She handed them to Richter.

"This," the Queen continued, "Is all that we have for now. Spies have gone missing and information is at a premium. War may be prevented, but I would feel more at ease knowing that our armies are at the borders prepared to protect us should Elsovaren try to invade. I beg you to take your men and leave at once." Though her words were 'asking' them to go, her tone made it evident that it was not a request, but an order.
 
Richter's answer was a pause and a short nod. As he turned and left for the door he stopped. "Captain Zorael. I'm having you and your unit transfered under my direct command. Unless there are any objections?" it was an odd request. Richter usually didn't personally oversee personnel transfers much less move them to his own unit. However, Zorael had caught his attention. They were alike, yet on different sides of the spectrum of magic and tech. Perhaps having someone he could indulge with about talk of the nature of dark powers and stereotypes would be a pleasant thing to have. Richter slowly went over a list of things to do in his head. He pulled out a small holographic recorder and muttered his mobilization orders to it before reaching out into the hall and passing it to a guard for delivery.

"I'll make my way to the border in time, Your Highness. I have to inform my sister of where I'm going. Assuming she's not out on some mercenary work. After which I'll address the troops and move out. If I might make a recommendation to you it would be to not send every single troop out to the border. At least not in a way that they'll be scouted. If we amass too many soldiers then our would be enemies may retaliate faster under the claim that we're preparing to invade."

Richter exited the throne room having little care that he hadn't been formally dismissed. It was just another typical behavior for him and he felt that he had more important things to do if he had to leave as quickly as it was implied.
 
Procedure would have been to keep the Princess here, under lock and key, until the others' return. There were a thousand things that could go wrong at the fair and they didn't need to lose her. But D was never one to stick to procedure and hey, he might have been a little curious about the fair, too. They probably had better food than this place was offering. The only thing he was seeing here that looked appetizing was that laundrywater soup people were eating. He smirked. "Heh. Why not?" If anything he could leave the Princess with her musclebound friend here and see if there any female companionship to be found. He didn't see the point to go celibate while he was stuck here.

Cervantes went first, followed by the Princess, and then D. As soon as he opened the door, he could hear it. The sounds of the fair, laughter and music, drifting on the wind. He sniffed. Mm .... Food and perfume. He'd eat his fill of food and women tonight.
 
The scene was perfect. Music, games, performers. Everywhere you looked brightly coloured costumes and feats meant to amaze and entertain with clever use of technology, magic or raw skill gathered crowds. Many cheered and clapped, many laughed. Rides and booths filled the fairground and spilled out into the surrounding streets and people from all over the region flooded into the village to watch the performers or try their luck and coins against the games slanted against their favor.

One performers, a shapely woman balanced on top of a pole on one hand, the pole moving under her as she constantly adjusted her balance. Her other hand held a flute to her lips playing a slow tune, the unusual mouth piece allowing her to play with only one hand. But it was no ordinary performer.... it was me behind the harlequins' mast and inside the gaudy costume that make me look of the opposite gender, and as the crowd watched me I watched them. What better disguise than someone who wants to be looked at?

My arm begins to tire to placing the flute on my belt I band my body and place a foot next to my hand on the pole adjusting my weight a stand still balanced and use the height to look over the crowd before I notice a familiar silhouette. Closing my eyes I once again begin to play, a faster tune this time, two hands allowing me to play normally with all the holes available to me.

I watch them approach the fair ground, I had been worried they wouldn't come and I;d have t go looking for them, but luck it seemed was my ally today. Placing my other foot on my roost I curl my body and somersault to the ground landing low to the ground as the pole I had been standing on falls to the ground. Staying low I place my left foot out in front of me keeping it strait as I rise in as exaggerated step that flows into a cartwheel none of my flexibility lost in my disguise. The cartwheel is followed by another, then a forwards somersault the brings me right in front of the princess my head bowed, and the tips on my gloved fingers on the rough paving my right leg bent under me and my left strait out to the side.

"Fair morrow." I say my voice changed to match my disguise. "Welcome child, you look like you might be interested in a song.. more than a song a story of a brave hero and a vile murderer who tried to do away with his at the behest of an evil queen."

I flip backwards landing on my feet the flute once again raised in an introductory solo fitting of the braves hero who walked this earth.. though the one in the song was far from it.

Not long ago in the land of Vykendria,
A tale unfolded, the cause of hysteria.
A man lived by the name of Dystan,
If you wish to know what happened you'd better listen.

It was delivered fast like a limerick and I smile under my mask as the man who wrongly thinks his name to be same as the one in the song is right next to the child I sing it to, the song is accompanied with a bar of two of music between each verse.

There was an order whose number was seven,
Whose role was to protect those mandated by heaven.
To rule the land with a fair and just hand,
But all was not well in the palace so grand.

Dystan himself was a man with a mission,
The seventh of L'Sette, a job to be done without commission.
But the queen's eyes saw all and word was given,
To her finest assassins, her face was liven.

And so a price was accepted with glee,
Another day Dystan was never to see.
Two men stole out to end his life,
And so happened the worst of strife.

In a square under a tree one waited,
His thirst for blood and fame could not be sated.
So before his brother came to arrive,
He attacked Dystan.......

I pause not finishing the sentence except in my head... 'who failed to survive'.... I smile under my mask as this time there is no music and as I enter the final verse my eyes meet the child's.

So when the brother can up so see,
There was nothing left for but to flee.
The life of the seventh of L'Sette was through,
But no witness nor word was delivered to you.

I dance past her impeccably pressing a spot on the flute and a barb, barely a skin's thickness long and invisible in the spinning movement finds the princess' arm and her ever to her it would be nothing more than an accidental bump with the flute and I stop my spin facing her.

"Apologizes... I'm clumsy.. which is why I will never play for royalty."

I flip away from her in contrast to my claim of clumsiness and turn once more plowing into the crowd.
 
When Richter announced that he'd be transferring Zorael under his direct command, if one listened carefully, they would have heard a soft 'tink' as the drow's chin hit the bottom of his helmet. It only took a moment for Zorael to regain enough composure to reply, albeit still a bit stunned. "N-no, sir. I have no objection. It would be an honor to serve under you." Once again, opposed to Richter's actions, Zorael bowed quickly to the Queen before following the High General out of the throne room. Zorael quickly caught up to him and, his curiosity getting the better of him, asked, "Sir, if you don't mind my asking, why did you decide to place me under your command, not that I mind. Surely there are better suited to this task. I'm merely a captain." Zorael noticed, once again, that he was downplaying his own worth and abilities. Maybe that was why he was only a captain. But then again, as a drow, to do otherwise could be just as detrimental to one's career. "Maybe if I stay with the High General long enough, I'll be able to show my ambitious side without alarming others, the way he has managed to. Maybe one day, I won't need to wear my helmet when among my men. One day, maybe I can walk the streets and be greeted with smiles of respect instead of scorns of distrust."
 
Gwendolyn was entranced. The colors, the smells, the sounds. Everything here in the village was so new and unique. Beautiful old fashioned stone masonry blending with the more recent steel and neon technology of signs and window displays. People playing wooden instruments and making little holographic figures dance. The clothing so eye-catching that Cervantes and Drystan nearly lost her twice when she would turn and stop just to gawk at something shiny.

She was almost out of sight once again when the singing performer approached. At least this time Gwen stayed in one place as she listened to the song, with the same wide-eyed curiosity as any child would. Gwen clapped gleefully when the song was over. She was waving at Drystan and Cervantas to tell them about the story when the women bumped her with the flute.

The princess only laughed as the woman bounced away, impatient to tell the story. "Do you hear her story? It almost sounded like you, Drystan! Ballads are my favorite. Do you think there will be other singing performers? Oh look! There's peacocks over there!" Spotting something else interesting, she was already moving to see.
 
"Why? Well, there are a couple of reasons," Richter continued his stride making sure Zorael could keep up, "For one, you and I are alike in nature, but I'm intrigued by you using tech. I hope that perhaps I can learn more about it watching you. Then there's the fact I see a lot of a young me in you," Richter turned to face Zorael.

"You have something to prove. In the fifteen minutes of our interaction I've determined you hide it under self-depreciative statements and quiet compliance. That only works so well for so long. I'd know. I've been there too. To achieve what you desire you need to be somewhere where you can openly try to prove yourself without disapproving stares...or where there aren't enough disapproving stares to make a difference. The latter can be achieved by being stuck in a backwater post like I was. The former you need to be in a position where you're trusted by someone that no one can question or object to openly without drawing some bad attention. And since you're in the military, short of the queen herself, the best you can get in regards to trusting authority is me. Now when you get disapproving stares, you can ignore them knowing that you're one working with me, a man who went through the same things, overcame them, and is now widely considered to be one of the best generals this country has ever seen."

Richter gave Zorael a couple of hearty thumps on the back smiling under his helmet, "Hell, if you keep at it maybe someday I might just have a new General to work with, eh? Just try not to be too overzealous. I like you, but your actions are now a direct reflection of my leadership. Don't do anything I wouldn't!" Richter laughed and resumed walking, motioning for Zorael to continue following.
 
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[size=+1]Cervantes[/size]

Cervantes wasn't but a few seconds away before he was at GFwen's side "M'lady, do not wander astray from us. Eyes do little good when you're no where to be found." he said, as Gwen seemed to literally be bouncing with energy.

"Do you hear her story? It almost sounded like you, Drystan! Ballads are my favorite. Do you think there will be other singing performers? Oh look! There's peacocks over there!"

Then she was off again, and Cervantes couldn't do anything more but follow her so she wouldn't slip from his sight like she had moments before. Rose would have been very upset, and if there was anything else he honored more than keeping Gwen safe, it was the approval of Rose, his commander. "M'lady, please calm yourself, It's simply a f-" his words were cut short as a young maiden crashed into him, knocking him to the floor, as she bounced away in song to some festival tune that was being played above the roar of the crowd. "M'lady?" Cervantes called out, after pulling himself to his feet. Not knowing exactly where the princess has gotten to in those brief moments.













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