A Truth Among Lies
By Etoile Mignon



"In the end, everyone forgets someone."



Chapter One
The Gathering of the Four Kings


"People - some good, some bad, but in the long run we come out even." - Jan Hittle




       He awoke on a cold ground with his vision clouded by a heavy purple mist. As he rose to his feet, he 
found himself in an expanse of darkness. The fog gathered around his feet but reached out in every direction 
until it faded from view. There was no sky, no breeze, but no walls either. He couldn't tell if he was inside or 
outside, and grew uneasy when he noticed that he didn't have his katana at his side. Every muscle was tense as 
he strained his eyes to search his surroundings, but he could see nothing. Suddenly, he felt a strange presence 
behind him and turned immediately to face it, fearing a surprise attack.

       What he found when he turned almost stole his breath. Towering over his form almost three times his 
height was a pair of doors, solely illuminated in the darkness. The doors stood alone in an ornately carved 
frame, but the frame was independent of anything. He could see no walls on either side, but he could see the 
mist wrap around the back of it undisturbed. The mist seemed to pour out from under the doors.

       The doors were made from a strange indigo material that seemed to glow. The frame was made of dull 
but precious lavender metal, which seemed very strong but was woven around the doors in such fine curves and 
loops that it seemed impossible. Every inch of the doors was covered in intricate markings that resembled 
nothing he had ever seen. From top to bottom, runes and filigree flowed beautifully together. The colossal 
doors had no handles, leaving him to wonder how they were to be opened. 

       Only after several moments of studying the doors did he notice the figure of a woman standing next 
to them. She had extremely long hair, half of it pulled up into a bun, and it shone with an eerie dark green 
color. He couldn't tell if it was really her hair color or it was the dim lighting. One thing he was sure of was the 
color of her garnet eyes that cut through the darkness around her. They fell on him with familiarity and did not 
threaten him. She was very tan, which made the red of her eyes shine even brighter. She stood perfectly still as 
he took in the sight of her, her gloved hand holding a long staff with a heart shape over a blood-red orb that 
rested on top. The staff itself looked as if it was made of the same lavender metal, and had strange teeth jutting 
from it as a key would. Around her waist was a heavy chain full of multiple keys; no two were similar. They 
were large and small, ornate and simple; she wore a grand collection of secret-keepers and stood as if she knew 
it.

       He recognized the uniform she wore and did not have to ask who she was; he could feel it in the pit of 
his stomach. It had a white bodice, but almost every other part of it was pure black. The collar was black, 
although she wore a deep crimson bow on her chest and lower back. Black boots with white trim covered up to 
her knees, and her short black shirt left her slender thighs exposed. A garnet jewel, the same as in her staff, hung 
from a black choker and bright, shield-shaped earrings hung from her ears. He did not flinch, but wished more 
than ever that he had a weapon. 

       "What do you want from me?" he said confidently, his voice echoing in the abyss that surrounded 
them.

       To his question, she smiled. It did not make him feel any better. Her crimson lips barely stretched, as 
if they had forgotten how to display happiness. The small grin was full of sadness that reached him through her 
eyes, almost as if she wanted to cry but wasn't able to. 

       "It has been a long time." Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard her clearly in the silence. It was 
as if she hadn't spoken aloud in a long time. 

       "This is the first time we've met."

       Her brow furrowed as if she was hurt by what he said, but the pain was gone in a moment as she 
bowed her head. "Of course."

       Again, they both fell into silence. He grew uneasy because she didn't move, and felt his fists clench out 
of apprehension. The pain returned to her face as she noticed this. With long stride, she approached him. 
Gazing deeply into his dark eyes, she bowed. He was confused, but did not say anything. 

       When she rose, he realized how beautiful she was. Even the torment that haunted her face was lovely. 
For the first time, he saw the dark sigil on the center of her forehead, barely visible against her dark skin.

       "I know," she whispered, turning her gaze away from him. "That you have met her by now."

       "Who?"

       She did not respond to him, but turned back to him; as soon as her eyes fell on him, he knew whom 
she spoke of.

       He drew a sharp breath. "How? I haven't spoken of that night to anyone."

       That tortured smile appeared again, and it made his heart ache. She ignored his statement and turned 
her eyes away again. "I must ask a great task of you."

       Even as she looked away, he could barely focus on her words. He was encased up in her beauty. Every 
inch of her was mysterious and yet inviting. There was nothing he knew of her, but he wanted all of her.

       When she turned back to face him, every bit of sadness was gone from her face. She was emotionless 
and void as she once again met his gaze. He was a bit taken back by the sudden change, and a chill crawled up 
his spine at the cold, dead eyes that stared at him.

       "I need you to protect her," her voice had changed, too. It was still a whisper, but now it sounded like 
a thousand whispers all at once. "A great evil that should not be comes for her."

       With a great wind that seemed to emanate from her own form, her hair fanned out behind her as the 
sigil on her forehead shone with a bright purple. "I have seen past, present, and future; my eyes have seen a 
thousand deaths but I will not endure hers. There is one path that must be followed, and I will ensure that it 
comes to pass. I charge you with her protection. As you always have and always will, you must do again now."

       He had begun to shield his eyes as her power pulsed. The mist was cast away from her, but caught in a 
small vortex around her form. She was a goddess before him. 

       "Will you accept this task I have given you?"

       With the dead eyes upon him, empty of everything but power, he could not refuse them. "Yes."

       As soon as he agreed, the powerful wind died and the mist began to creep back around her feet. Her 
hair fell lifeless once more, and the goddess was gone. Her eyes welled up with misery once more, and there was 
nothing he wanted to do more than embrace her and rid her of the eternal sorrow.

       "Thank you," her whispered returned to its singularity.

       He wasn't sure what exactly happened next. She drew close to him, into his arms that wrapped around 
her intuitively. He pulled her tight against him, and with her one free gloved hand, she held his face as she 
pressed her lips against his. Without hesitation, he kissed her back.

       They exchanged breath. Her lips were soft and cold, but they felt good against his. Her slender form 
was easy to hold, but her curves fit against him as if it were meant to be. As he ran his hands through her long 
silky hair, he could feel her tender fingers play on the back of his neck. They parted slowly, fearful that neither 
would survive without the other.

       "Who are you?" he asked, every part of him craving her. "I love you."

       She cradled his cheek in her hand. "No, you don't," and she backed out of his arms, which felt 
extraordinarily empty without her. From what felt like a great distance, he realized that he had done nothing 
but increase the sorrow in her garnet orbs. "Now I will tell you what you must do for me."

       He hung on every word as she explained what he was to do. Every step of the way was planned out to 
specific times and actions. Some of it was very vague, but he trusted that she told him what she could. It was as 
if she carved the instructions on his psyche, all while her constant pain taunted him with its relentless presence. 
Every word to him was direction on how to rid her of that sorrow, and he memorized them without effort, 
without thought of whether or not it was complicated.

       When she was finished, she reached down to her hips and his eyes followed. She held two keys on the 
chain, and as if they obeyed her command, slipped off the links by some kind of magic. He held out his hand as 
she placed the two small keys into his palm, wrapping her hand around his and shutting his own around the 
metal keys. They were still warm with her heart. 

       "These can both return the user to this place but can only be used once," she said as he relished under 
her touch. "One of these you must keep with you at all times; you will know the time to use it. The other you 
must leave on your desk. Ensure that it is not removed at any cost. It will be found by the right person."

       He nodded, which brought back the return of her haunting smile. 

       "Protect her at all cost," she whispered, slipping back beside the door.

       He took a step forward, but she held out her hand, stopping him.

       "Goodbye," she whispered so faintly he could barely hear. She raised the staff slightly and with a slight 
force, brought it back down against the ground. A purple light came from the orb at the top straight for him, 
engulfing him in its beam.

       "No," he protested, but he was already gone.

       For a moment, she stood alone, renewed in her silence. She knew that he would only remember what she 
willed him to, and as such the kiss would never be real to him. Licking her lips, she barely tasted him, knowing 
that soon it would be gone forever. A sharp pain stabbed at her, the realization that the only love he felt for her 
was because of her surroundings, which bent his desires. It wasn't real love, only a manipulation.

       For the first time, last time, or perhaps not ever, Sailor Pluto allowed herself to cry over Endymion.




	A man atop a deep brown stallion rode into Elys, the capital city of Earth, through the southern gates, 
stopping his steed for a moment as he gazed at the castle that hung over the town. The stone gargantuan was 
high above the rest of Elys, and seemed almost ethereal as mists gathered around it. The man's dark eyes 
narrowed before he gently squeezed the horse's ribs and rode further in. He had barely gotten into town when 
the daylight faded under the thick cloud cover that lingered over the city of Elys almost year round. It was 
gloomy in his opinion and he loathed coming here at all. As he passed through the crowded streets, he noted 
how close each house was to its neighbors. The street was barely wide enough for four horses, not that he was 
unused to riding in cramped spaces. He had ridden far smaller trails, but the children that ran ruefully close to 
his horse earned a snarl from the man each time they passed.

	Some of the people gawked at him for he was quite an alien in this town. His horse was like none 
they've ever seen. It was a sleeker horse, with a much wilder face. Its color was a pleasant brown, but it's legs 
faded into the darkest onyx before ending in tiny hooves. The mane and tail of the animal was black as well, 
but it was a much thicker and unkempt, which was scorned upon as poor maintenance of the animal. It carried 
small bundles behind the dark black saddle, wrapped in an unfamiliar fabric, which although light enough, the 
horse looked weary of them. It was assumed that the horse had traveled far with them for such a beast of 
burden to be weighed down with such light loads. 

       The rider himself was particularly strange as well. His skin was tanned, like fieldworkers in the 
summer months. He had long hair for a male, and the mahogany locks were cut to a blunt edge that ceased at 
the end of his shoulder blades. The attire he had chosen was questioned silently as well. His sleeveless tunic was 
a strange saffron color, and his pants looked like stretched tan animal hide, though like no leather anyone had 
seen before. He wore no cloak despite the overcast sky and chilled air, and his boots were black and tight, with 
the laces bulging as they ran up his shin. On his wrists were two leather cuffs, and his hands were uncommonly 
large and calloused. He had a stronger brow than most, though very handsome indeed. Slung on his back in a 
shoulder sheath, there was a bladed quarterstaff, whose oversized handle was gilded with markings and shining 
jewels that no one clearly recognized. They were not any color, but rather sparkled with all colors at once. At 
his side, a long sword was sheathed, but its rare usage had kept it in far better condition than his staff. Some 
onlookers recognized his long sword and shied away into the shadows when they did. The combination of all it 
was so strange that the people fell silent as he approached and began whispering as he passed.

	It was not uncommon for this type of reaction when he entered the capital city, but he still grew tired 
of it quickly. Which was why, for the most part, he kept out of the city as much as possible. While bestowed 
with the gifts of other planets' technology, Elys still seemed a humble place to him. It had nothing much to 
offer, save the royal grounds, but even the awe of those could wear off rapidly. He sighed as he pushed farther 
into Elys, finding that the reaction he gained worsened as he went. His frustration was growing and he had 
barely been in the town an hour's time. 

	"You there," he called out to a rather fat man waddling the opposite direction along the path. He 
pulled back the reins of the animal, causing to whinny with annoyance. It was used to running, and this slow 
pace was infuriating the creature. 

	The man stared wide-eyed for a moment in disbelief before he hiccupped and slurred a greeting. 
"Hullo, good sir!" 

	This earned a jealous smile from the rider. "How far to the nearest tavern?"

	"Oh ho!" The man laughed heartily. "A man with good tastes, I see." He offered a clumsy bow, 
during which he fell forward a few paces. Straightening up with little balance, he pointed behind him. "The 
Drowning Minstrel is just up the path a ways, you can't miss it."

	"Very well," the rider acknowledged, glancing up the road for any hint of the tavern. "Many thanks. 
Good 'morrow."

	He nudged his horse onward without waiting for a reply, but heard the man shout, "Ah, and a happy 
evening to you!" 

	It was just as the drunk had stated. The tavern came up quicker than expected, though, as a hanging 
sign over a rather small doorway indicated The Drowning Minstrel. It was a small tavern on the corner of two 
intersecting streets, which gave a widened space in the road. This gave him room to tether his horse outside the 
building, which he surveyed disdainfully. It wasn't built right and looked on the precipice of collapse at any 
second. With a heavy sigh, he carefully entered and had to duck under the doorframe to do so. Making sure he 
closed the door softly, lest the building cave in, he turned to face the patrons of The Drowning Minstrel.

	They were a distinctive crowd, to say the least, and many of them must have just come here after a 
day's work. Most of them had dirty tunics on, although none seemed to care because their skin was far worse. 
Most men sat alone, hunched over their tankards of ale, and spoke to no one. Some were gathered together, 
snickering and telling foul jokes to each other in private. The barmaid, who was round and weathered, spared 
him a speculative glance as he entered, unknowing of what his purpose must be. The condition of the patrons 
matched the interior d‚cor. The floor was covered in dust from the road and clumps of dried mud. Bits of hay 
were gathered in the dusty corners. The tables glistened with sticky stains of dried beer, and the pillars that 
supported the ceiling were visibly damaged with splintered wood from drunken brawls. The circular chandeliers 
that held eight to ten candles shed very dim light, and the worn out shutters were closed, preventing even the 
dimmest gray light of the day to enter. It occurred to him that drunks disliked daylight, no matter how sunless 
the day was.

	He took three or four great strides before he reached the uneven bar and took a seat on a hard and 
uncomfortable stool. The kind of ale they served was only spared a fleeting consideration, as he felt really thirsty 
for the first time. 

	The barmaid approached with perfect timing. Her shirt was very low, and her hair was tied up rather 
ruggedly in two braids that flanked her hairline. She was no beauty, with her pale skin and horrid round face. 
Her voice was a high-pitched screech. "You lookin' for a pint, love?"

	He sneered at the last word, before quickly nodding. He watched her as she filled a tankard with a 
dark liquid from a barrel's tap before placing the pewter mug in front of him, it's brim overflowing with frothy 
head. No sooner had he began to drink, content to finish the beer and continue on his way, did he hear a voice 
from down the bar. 

	"Nephrite?" 

	His dark eyes looked over his shoulder. There he beheld a man just a bit shorter than himself, gazing 
with a crooked grin on his face. He had short, blonde hair, whose length was cropped by his neck, but the top 
pieces fell just short of his eyes. The color of his skin was lighter than Nephrite's, but still held color. He had 
very light blue eyes that were like the sky on a clear day. "It is you!" The man spoke quite loudly now, and 
some onlookers turned their attention as he rose from his seat.

	The man came striding towards Nephrite. His attire was much cleaner than the rest of the patrons. He 
wore a sapphire color tunic with sleeves that just passed his elbows. His light cloak was clasped at his 
collarbone, and hung only beyond his hips. Very tough looking leather made up his brown pants, as well as his 
darker brown boots. At his black belt, with an unusually adorned buckle, he kept his choice weapon. An 
enormous broadsword hung unsheathed at his side, its wide and long blade was rather dull and was scarred with 
the marks of various battles. Hiding underneath it was a similar long sword that Nephrite carried. The man's 
face was more triangular, with a defined jaw that came to a point at his chin. His nose was tinier with an almost 
perfect slope and gathered no attention away from his emoting eyes. 

	Nephrite stood to his feet as the other embraced him and slapped his back above where his staff lay. 
He welcomed the sight of the familiar blue eyes. "It is no wonder I find you in a bar. It has been too long since 
last, Jadeite. Come, drink with me."

	Jadeite ordered a fresh beer, and the two exchanged brief simplicities on the condition of life for each. 
The two armed men gathered quite a sight from the villagers, who understood nothing of why men carried 
such weaponry to Elys, the safest place on Earth, much less to a bar. If either of them noticed the strange glares 
they were accumulating, they ignored it very well.

	"How have you been since the end of the war?" Jadeite questioned, his lips wrapping around the 
foamy head of his beer.

	"To be honest," Nephrite replied. "Mostly bored. I have been kept somewhat busy with raiders and 
rebels, but I admit I've missed the Guard."

	Jadeite smiled fiercely. "I miss it, too. As kind as a gift of governing my own region was, it is too far a 
cry from wartime for my taste. I'm easily bored with politics, and too far to annoy the hell out of any of you 
now."

	They shared a laugh together, recalling the days when their camaraderie was the only distraction from 
the next inevitable battle. 

       "Have you been long in Elys?" Nephrite questioned, taking another gulp of beer. It was starting to 
warm him and his frustration at the city was quickly leaving.

	"Not much longer than you, I'd wager." Jadeite wiped foam from his upper lip. "I arrived this 
morning, but did not feel like arriving early. I circled the inner wall a few times before I decided for a drink. 
You?"

	"My boat arrived less than an hour ago," he replied, swallowing the amber liquid in his mouth. He 
lowered his voice. "I cannot stand this city."

	Jadeite snorted with laughter. "You cannot stand any city."

	"This one is the worst."

	"Ah, you've never been to Vulturnus. Now that is a city worth your hatred. Speaking of, you should 
visit Zoisite sometime."

	Nephrite took another drink before continuing to brood. "Not even if I did have the time. I've never 
been there, and hope to the gods I never have to. Where I am from-"

	"Where you are from is neither city nor village. It's your own hidden estate. I doubt you see any of 
those outside your home for days or weeks at a time." Jadeite smiled broadly. "I can see the appeal."

	Nephrite did not answer. As Jadeite gulped down more beer, Nephrite's brow narrowed. "I assume 
you are here for the same reasons, then," he said plainly.

	Jadeite stared down into his tankard for a moment. "Yes," came a somber reply. The jokes from before 
had ceased and his shoulders seemed heavy. It was strange for Nephrite to see the blonde sulk, although he 
understood why. It had been years since they had fought side-by-side in the Great War, and those years had 
obviously taken their toll. In their youth, it was all fun and games, even when it wasn't supposed to be. Now, 
they both realized the gravity of the situation. If they both were present, then the other two must be as well, 
and there were few reasons since the War's end that the four would be gathered.

	It was a moment of silence, during which the two men did not look at each other. Instead, they stared 
at the liquid in the tankards, occasionally drinking it. Even the rest of the patrons seemed to notice the two 
friends' lull in conversation. Some feared that an argument was brewing and made sure to pay their bills and 
leave before weapons were drawn. This never happened, and the two men finished their drinks before speaking 
again.

	"We should be going." Jadeite was the first to speak. Nephrite only nodded. They paid the bill for the 
drinks and stepped outside. Again, Nephrite ducked to avoid the doorframe. 

	While Nephrite sauntered over to his sleeker, nimble horse, Jadeite's tan horse was a world of 
difference. It was slightly taller than Nephrite's, and had much bigger hooves. Its chest was broader and 
stronger. The saddle it wore was of burnt umber, and it carried heavy blankets and bags with no effort at all. Its 
legs were thick with power, and it stood patiently as it watched it's master approach. Its sandy mane was thin 
but long, almost stringy as it fell across the animal's powerful neck. Its eyes were stoic and patient, where 
Nephrite's horse had eyes that bulged with eagerness. The two of them mounted and pressed further inward 
towards the Elysian Peak. 

	The two men arrived at the gates of the inner wall within a short while. The large passageway was 
blocked with two large elm doors engraved with Earth's crest. Nephrite's horse padded back and forth, 
unwilling to stop completely as Jadeite's. 

	"Your beast is wild," the blonde commented.

	Nephrite scowled, his weight being shifted with every dancing step of the creature. "It is restless from 
spending days on a boat. For the most part, I rely on this horse for nothing but its speed during transportation. 
It is not a work animal, like yours." He patted the beast's neck and it settled somewhat, although its feet were 
shifting recklessly as it waited. 

	Jadeite sighed, shaking his head. "Too much gallivanting in the jungle, if you ask me. You'd do well to 
train it."

	"I'd have nothing to train it for. It knows I am its master and it is content to take me where I need it. 
I have no loads for it to carry that me or my men cannot handle."

	Before Jadeite could retort, a cry came from above them. "Who approaches the Gates of the Elysian 
Peak?" They looked up, and against the dreary gray sky was a soldier, looking down from outside a guard post 
on the eastern tower. He wore the steely armor that was typical of Earth's Army, with a short cape attached as 
well as an adorned helmet.

	Jadeite sighed. "The formalities of this place," he mumbled, inaudible to the guard above.

	Nephrite smiled at his friend's annoyance, knowing the boy all too well as he spoke for the both of 
them and sparing him from speaking. "It is Nephrite, Commander of the Far West and Lord of Auster, and 
Jadeite, Commander of the Southern Isle and Lord of Favonius, answering our summons." 

	The soldier said nothing, but disappeared out of sight. 

	"You'd think they'd recognize us," Jadeite said to Nephrite. "We're the only armed men for miles."

	"I'm surprised our usual welcoming isn't already here," Nephrite grinned as the doors creaked and 
began to open, sending his horse into an anxious sidestep once more. As soon as there was enough room, he 
allowed it to press through the gates, appeasing it's need for movement. 

	As Jadeite trotted through on his patient beast, Nephrite's horse exploded into a carefree run. The 
rider bent forward and gripped tightly with his knees as the horse sped up the beaten path to the castle's gates. 
The cold air whipped past his face, something he was not accustomed to in his kingdom. For the first time, he 
felt the cold, but he did not shiver or even care. There was a refreshing quality to it, similar to the fresh air after 
a heavy rain in the jungle. His hair flowed behind him as he took in the magnificence of the outer grounds of 
the castle. Strong elm trees and dainty cherry trees lined the path to the castle, and between them he could see 
fields of wildflowers to the east and well-tended farmlands to the west. Along the inside of the wall were thick 
rose hedges, obviously a beautiful protector from those who were brave enough to scale it. As the scenery 
passed, he thought not once of Jadeite until his horse padded to a steady stop in front of even larger, thicker 
elm gates.

	Turning, he found that Jadeite was only a moment behind, and he rode in with a powerful rhythm. It 
was nothing to match his own horse, Nephrite noted, but still fast nonetheless. The blonde ceased his horse 
with a graceful ease as they both gazed up at the new set of doors. 

	"I'm assuming our titles need to be announced again?" Jadeite said with a bitter taste in his mouth.

	Nephrite laughed at his friend's repulsion of formality as he dismounted his steed. "Come on, you 
fool," he said. Jadeite dismounted and followed. Leading his horse to the very edge of the door he grabbed a 
large metal knocker and banged against the wood. 

	Suddenly, a rectangular viewing window was slid open on the left door, and it was so well blended 
that Jadeite gave a jump as it was revealed. A pair of weathered eyes looked out on them. The squinted and 
studied them for a moment, then slowly grew wider. With another quick jerk, the viewing window was slid 
shut.

	"Are you satisfied? You have been recognized." Nephrite said over his shoulder.

	A loud shuffling could be heard beyond the doors, and after a moment, an eerie creak signaled their 
opening. The two men stood and beheld one of the many courtyards of the Earth Castle. The large structure 
made of stone rose high into the sky beyond the large expanse of the yard, but it did not daunt the majesty of 
the courtyard itself. Large flagstones of all different shade of slate covered almost the whole area, and in the 
middle did sprays of crystal water surround a large fountain with a statue of a great earthen warrior. On the 
outskirts, gardens of flowers of all sorts were budding into bouquets of all colors, despite the obvious lack of 
sunlight that the palace saw. Ivy lined the walls climbing up from behind the flora, and the tops were just a 
faded shadow in the mists. Several staircases and side doors gave servants access to the castle at moment's 
notice, and no doubt these passages connected to the different parts of the estate. Directly across from where 
they stood, were the actual doors of the castle, which were more ornate than the rest, being black and engraved 
with white was the large crest of Earth. The crest was a symbol of a tree, with five different flowers that budded 
across it's top, signifying the five lands of the kingdom. The largest flower was a red rose and it was perched 
higher than the rest. 

	"Just as we left it," Jadeite murmured, his blue eyes taking in the sight with nostalgia as the gates shut 
behind them.

	Nephrite silently agreed, and a genuine smile crossed his face. The walked but a few paces in and a 
servant came by to take their horses. The animals were ushered off to the stables with the servant's promise that 
their things would be brought to their rooms immediately. They thanked the boy and continued forward 
slowly. Neither of them wanted to face the task that the castle held for them.

	And it would wait just a bit longer as the doors burst open and a figure taller than both waltzed out 
with a graceful gait. He was a stern looking man with pale white hair that was pin straight. It fell down to his 
shoulders, where a white cloak with pale blue lining fell all the way to his ankles. It was clasped over the right 
side of his chest and gave him a very commanding air. His tunic was a steely gray, made up of a breathable 
fabric with loose sleeves that covered the whole of his arms. White linen trousers ended at his ankles, just above 
gray flat shoes that came to a gentle point at the toe. By his white belt, which almost blended into his trousers, 
hung several dark sheaths. One side's sheath held a gladius, his favored short sword, and an unused long sword 
similar to theirs. On the opposing side held a scimitar from his own region. His skin was tanned, offset by the 
icy blue of his eyes. He had a very square and defined jaw, which seemed to be clenched a lot. He waltzed over 
to them with a stoic look of confidence on his face. 

	"Finally," he said as he approached them, offering a hand in welcome. "Others have arrived." 
Nephrite took his hand and clasped him on the shoulder, which the man returned before grabbing Jadeite's 
hand and repeating the greeting. He took a moment to look at both of them, and with a look of feigned 
disappointment, he said, "I can see you two haven't changed that much."

	"And you, Kunzite," Jadeite said with a gentle humor. "Are the same hard ass as you ever were."

	"Glad to see it," added Nephrite. "How are things in the desert?"

	Kunzite smiled to the remarks, surprising himself at how much he missed the men. "Summer's thaw 
has brought out all the raiders that were hidden in the Northland's snow storms of winter. It has not slowed 
since spring, and, to be honest, I'm glad for it. It has kept my men and me busy. And your lands?"

	"Spring brought a lot of new animals to the lands, and hunting for the summer has been good. We've 
run into some troubles from a group of poachers, but they were quickly taken care of." Jadeite replied. 

	"And how are the mountains?"

	"It's been slow since the rain season. There hasn't been much due to the tremendous heat, save those 
who can endure it." Nephrite spoke, thinking of home. "But much of my time has been sending explorers to 
the northern boarders and seeing what lies beyond."

	"I've explored beyond my people's comfort zone before, Nephrite," Kunzite replied. "All I found in 
that pitiful ice land were raiders and thieves. They went on the move ever since we found them and now hide in 
ice caves where we cannot touch them until later in the summer."

	Nephrite and Kunzite were wrapped up in a whirl of conversation. They both had undiscovered land 
on the boarders of their regions, and as of late, Nephrite was taking the initiative to explore it. He, of course, as 
the Lord, must remain in the capital city. Kunzite was advising that forcing exploration is only bound to 
unearth the horrors of the foreign land; he preferred to let the people expand as they saw fit. The debate on 
which was the right course of action went back and forth several times, neither of them changing the other's 
opinion.

	Jadeite wholly ignored them. He grew tired of the political and governmental talk quicker than the 
other two, who were content to talk all day if they must. The blonde however, sat down on the fountain's edge 
and removed a dagger from its hidden place in his boot. He began to play with it as if a toy and not a weapon, 
aimlessly twirling it in his hand as he stared up at the mists around the castle. Jadeite had not to be bored with 
the other two's talk for much longer, though. 

	"Open the gates!" A cry from outside the wall raised the men's attention. 

       Kunzite's eyes narrowed as the voice echoed itself again. "Is that...?" he trailed off as action clamored 
in the courtyard.

	They stared at the guards who wrestled to pull across the beam that sealed the doors and pull the 
doors open. As they did so, Jadeite's hand wrapped around his dagger, his other hand ready on the hilt of the 
sheathed broadsword. Nephrite reached behind him and readied his grip on his staff, knowing that in seconds it 
could be in front of him and ready for battle. Kunzite did not fall into a battle stance as the other two, but 
moved his hand to his gladius' hilt so subtly that no one noticed. 

	The gates had barely opened enough to allow two men through, when a man on a silver horse 
exploded through the opening with a twist in midair, the horse skipped to a stop in the courtyard. The beast 
was a fine-bred show horse. It had almost perfect proportions and its gray coat was groomed to a shimmer. It 
had clean hooves, even for just riding up a dirt path. It had confident eyes, and its reins were unusually short, 
drawing its nose closer to its chest for a better silhouette. The white hair was done up in a tight braid that ran 
along it's hairline, and even a few braids were worn in its tail. It wore a headdress and breastplate of silver, 
clearly ornamental as it glistened with emeralds. 

	Its rider wore a devilish grin on his face, which was surprisingly delicate for a male. Curly waves of 
reddish blonde hair were tied back with a black ribbon, falling down to his waist in a shiny ripple. He had very 
light green eyes that were full of life. He wore a green silk tunic, which clung tightly to his torso and arms; the 
sleeves stopped midway down his forearm. On his bottom half, black trousers were also cut to conform to his 
legs. Unlike the others, he wore his pants outside of his black boots that were very shiny and had no other 
purpose that for a good impression. Hung on his hips, a long sword like the other three was tied to his belt, as 
well as a custom sabre whose hilt and hand guard were adorned with crystals. Around his neck was a long gold 
chain with a pendant at the bottom, in the shape of one of the flowers that was on Earth's crest. His cloak was 
black with a dark emerald lining, and was thrown over one of his shoulders in a chic manner, clasped on his 
chest with a solid circular brooch.

	He posed on his horse with a hand up in the air and the devilish grin on his face, seemingly holding 
for applause. Jadeite jammed his dagger back into his boot and shot the man a scornful look. Nephrite let go of 
his staff and covered his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. Kunzite, however, stared at the young man with 
a hopeless grin and rolled his eyes. The rider's face dropped when he saw the response.

	"Is no one happy to see me?" he asked with a playful voice. Dismounting with an energetic hop, he 
handed his horse's reins to the stable boy, commenting, "Do be careful with those bags. Finest linen from 
Kaikais, you know." He turned his attention the men, holding his arms out as he approached each for a 
welcome.

	"Only you," Jadeite murmured, letting the man clasp his hand with both of his and shake it with a 
greeting. The man's eyes were very expressive as he looked at Jadeite's face; their heights were the same so they 
stood eye to eye. The familiarity made Jadeite's annoyance flee. "Good to see your face," he said finally.

	The man nodded. "And yours, friend." He quickly turned to clasp Nephrite's hand between his, and 
looked into the deep eyes of the taller man. "Nephrite," he said softly.

	Nephrite clasped the man's shoulder with a smile as he still continued to shake his head. "Welcome 
back," he said. "Nice entrance."

	"Yes," Kunzite's voice drew the man's attention. He let go of Nephrite and turned to face the white 
haired man, who towered over him. Kunzite's face was stern and unmoving for a moment, while the man's eyes 
shook with admiration. "It is good of you to join us at last," Kunzite said heartlessly, but then a small smile 
broke across his face and he finally removed his hand from the sword's hilt. "Your flair has been missed, 
Zoisite." 

	At this, Zoisite leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the taller man. Surprisingly, Kunzite 
embraced Zoisite back, and patted him a few times on the back before the parted. Zoisite flipped his ponytail as 
he turned to the others. "At least someone here can appreciate style when they see it." 

	"You have not changed at all," Nephrite said. "In fact, I think you've worsened."

	A loud bark of laughter from Jadeite made Zoisite pout briefly, before flashing a dazzling smile at the 
two. "Come to Vulturnus, gentlemen, and I'll show you the worst of the glorious life. I dare say you'll enjoy 
yourselves."

	Jadeite opened his mouth for a witty response, but Kunzite spoke first from behind the three. 
"Enough, enough. There will be time for this later on. For now, the King has requested our presence once we 
all have gathered. Let's go." With a sweeping motion of his cape, Kunzite turned and headed towards the black 
doors. The other three exchanged serious looks, all knowing what they were about to face, and fell in step 
behind him.

	The Earth castle was a grand structure, made up of several levels and different areas. The first area they 
entered was a foyer than opened up to the Great Hall as well as several different passages. They quickly entered 
a passageway to the right, only allowing a glance at the Great Hall, which was the place of many victory feasts 
during the War. The four men knew the floor plans as well as any servant from the years when it they based 
their army there but were still awed by the estate's simplistic grandeur. There were large vases in almost every 
corner overflowing with flora. The candles in every chandelier and torch were made of red wax, giving a warm 
light throughout the whole building. There were no suits of armor, but rather, golden shields and bronzed 
weapons hung decoratively high on large walls. The foyer's floor had the rose from the crest laid into it with 
different color flagstones. It was a place of high confidence, but declaring the beauty of earth instead of the war. 

	Despite knowing the world outside, full of intergalactic fugitives and their own earthen criminals, the 
four men acquainted this place with the way Earth should be and what they governed their regions to be like. 
Each region was still a far way to be like the peaceful, beautiful castle, but the men had only been in power for 
four years. At their cores, they knew it would take more time, but all of them grew impatience as their ideal was 
solidified around them in the form of the castle.

	They had traveled through the foyer and several corridors as Kunzite began to ascend a spiral staircase 
whose windows overlooked the rear gardens. He did not turn around, and trusted as the other three marched 
up the steps behind him. 

	"The throne room is on the first level," Jadeite said over his shoulder to Nephrite.

	Nephrite's face was as somber as Jadeite had ever seen it. "Then we are surely not going to the throne 
room." With this conformation, Jadeite discreetly sighed.

	Even since the moment he had received the message, Jadeite did not want to acknowledge it. The only 
reason the four would be summoned so urgently made his stomach turn. He could not even bare to think of it. 
The tavern provided his reliable way of easing the stress, and gave him a chance to mull over different causes for 
the summons. Even seeing Nephrite, a solid conformation that he was not the only one summoned, he chose to 
dismiss the surmounting evidence. He dared to ignore the certain events awaiting them at the top of the stairs, 
knowing all well he'd face them in the pit of his gut. As they reached the top, his mouth ran dry and he could 
feel anxiety creep up on him. He knew where they were headed; three more corridors and two more levels 
upward would be their destination. 

	At the end of the walk, they emerged from a spiral staircase to a small, dim area with no windows. The 
only set of doors was before them, made up of heavy wood planks that shone with polish and set in the shape of 
a pointed archway. Two golden handles were barely tarnished and reflected the light off the red candles in two 
sconces that flanked each side of the doorframe's arch. Below each flickering light, two earthen soldiers stood 
wearing no armor, only the uniform of the earthen warriors. Each wore a dark grey tunic over even darker 
slacks, with black boots up to their knees. On the left breast of each tunic was a simplified white version of the 
Earthen Crest, with only the red rose insignia that overlapped the tree's design. Their swords were short swords, 
like Kunzite's and sheathed quietly at their sides. Their faces were quite focused at not moving at all, barely 
noticing the men's appearance. Lastly, they wore white gloves on their hands, placed tightly at their sides.

	The men's single line expanded into the space before the doors. Kunzite was closest to the doors, his 
face resigned, not betraying any thought or feeling he may have had. Zoisite was the second off the stairs, but 
almost stopped immediately to let his gaze wander around the empty corners with curiosity, forcing Jadeite and 
Nephrite to step to either side of him. Nephrite was staring down, his eyes barely open, and Jadeite swore he 
could see his lips muttering something. Jadeite stole a glance at each of the others before turning his narrowed 
brow to the apathetic guards. They were exactly the formal guards that he had expected, but their obvious lack 
in size made him seriously doubt their abilities. His lips curled into a brief snarl.

	"The Generals of the Earthen Kingdom, Commanders and Lords of the Four Regions, come to honor 
the King's request." Kunzite announced them in a very low tone, barely raising his voice at all. His presence was 
very quiet, but boldly commanding; the others had seen soldiers quiver in his presence, but not these two.

	Instead, they simultaneously faced each other and took once step in front of the doors. With fluid 
timing, they opened up the doors smoothly, stepped over the threshold, and bowed. They announced the four 
men, repeating the titles that Kunzite gave. 

	The four men waited. Kunzite couldn't see much past the two men, only the flickering lights of the 
chandelier and several wall sconces. Jadeite was looking down; he preferred to delay this as long as possible, if 
only in his mind. Nephrite's dark eyes looked hallow and removed, as if there was no soul behind them, as he 
stared at the open doorway. Zoisite, the youngest, couldn't decide where to look. He pretended to survey the 
room again, but found nothing new and was blinking furiously. Only the sharp click of the soldier's heels as 
they turned to face the four brought Zoisite's attention to the chamber beyond.

	"You may enter," one soldier said.

	"Remove your weapons," the other said. "As you are about to enter the Solar of King Aethlius."

	The men did as they were told. Kunzite removed his gladius, long sword, and scimitar leaving them 
sheathed, and placed them against the wall. Nephrite quickly twirled his bladed quarterstaff from it holder 
across his back, and also undid his own long sword's sheath that was tied to his belt. Jadeite removed his 
broadsword reluctantly and his long sword, leaving it sheathed, and also withdrew his hidden dagger from his 
boot. Zoisite reached behind his back and under his cloak, revealing the hidden anelace dagger that was 
sheathed at his lower back. He removed that as well as his own long sword and a jeweled scabbard that held his 
favorite, a custom sabre from Vulturnus. 

	Once finished, the two men stepped aside and the four entered into the private chambers of the King. 
Even in all their years spent inside the castle, they had never entered this room. The room was circular, which 
was very rare for any room of a castle, and it had a stain glass dome as a roof. There was a great red rug that 
encircled most of the floor, with numerous sconces as well as candelabras with the familiar red candles mixed 
with pure white ones. Several chairs and settees were set on the rug encompassing a large, round wooden coffee 
table. On the table was a tray that held several cups and a large pitcher of ale. Tapestries draped the walls, some 
depicting past kings and others showed grand earthen landscapes. On the opposite side of the room was a 
curtain partition that was partially drawn, peaking in at the bedchamber. Sitting in the grandest chair around 
the table was a silent man leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped as if 
praying.

	One by one, they entered the room and knelt down in a line just past the threshold the man, falling to 
one knee and bowing their heads with a clenched fist over their heart. "All hail Aethlius King," they resounded, 
creating a strong echo in the room. They remained with heads bowed, waiting for the man to rise. It took a few 
drawn-out moments before the man struggled to his feet and lifted his head to face them.

       The King stood before them. He was a shadow of what they had known in their youth. The man had 
once piercing black eyes, which were now dulled, tiny and kind. Wrinkles marred his face; once it had been 
intimidating, with a large scar across his left cheek. The scar remained, but his countenance was barely 
frightening at the moment. It was filled with an appreciation of the four great men that sat before him. A smile 
spread across his tiny lips that peeked through his bushy, speckled beard. 

	"These formalities," the man said as he raised his head and rolled his eyes. Upon a thick nest of 
smooth salt and pepper hair was a gleaming, jewel-encrusted diadem. It caught all the candle's flickers and 
shone with the power it represented. "If the gods wanted us to follow these procedures, they would've surely 
given us hoops to jump through instead of everything else in life." He held out a very aged hand; it was rough 
and calloused but still was full of surprising strength.

	In an instance, they stood. Kunzite approached first and kissed the King's hand. His royal robes fell 
over Kunzite's arms as they embraced. Aethlius grabbed Kunzite's shoulders and stared into the icy blue of his 
general's eyes. "Kunzite," he said, in a gruff voice that used to bark orders. "Ever the commander. If I ever 
needed your wise counsel, it is now. I am glad to have you." Kunzite nodded in thanks and took a seat.

	The second general stepped forward and laid his lips on the King's hand. "Nephrite," the King turned 
and embraced the dark warrior. He placed a hand on his shoulder and took Nephrite's large hand in his own; 
Nephrite felt him shake. "Strong yet compassionate Nephrite. I depend on your wisdom and courage, knowing 
you will not disappoint. Welcome." 

	Zoisite kissed his hand third. The King had barely opened his arms wide when Zoisite embraced him. 
Aethlius let out a hearty, warm laugh. He pulled back and held Zoisite's hands in his own, encompassing them 
almost completely. "Ah, Zoi," he said, pulling a nickname from youth. "Expressive as ever, and a honesty that 
could never be masked. It is good to see you once more."

       Jadeite was last to kiss the royal hand and next to be embraced. The King pulled back from Jadeite 
and beamed proudly at him with his arms crossed around his chest. "Jadeite, you have not changed. I can still 
see the same devotion in your eyes as the day we met, and I'm afraid I must ask too much of you this time."

       He gestured for them to sit, which they did, and with great difficulty, the King sat back down as well. 
"I've had the best ale brought up for us. Please, drink with me," the King motioned to the tray, which Zoisite 
quickly attended to by pouring a mug for each. The other three generals took their own while Zoisite handed 
the King his. Immediately, the King took a weak sip.

       Aethlius' eyes fell on each man one more time before he sighed heavily and dropped his head. The 
man's once strong shoulders hung low with the weight of a large red robe with heavy fur lining. When he once 
filled out the robe with majesty, he now looked frail within it, as a child would in his father's garments. "There 
are many things I must tell you, and I'm afraid I do not know where to begin. Difficulties have come to my 
house all at once, and I fear that I must ask you to bear some of my troubles on your shoulders. For this, I am 
sorry."

       "Please, do not be, sir," Jadeite said boldly. "I would give my life -"

       King Aethlius raised a palm to the general. He smiled as he did so. "This, I know, Jadeite. Still, it does 
not make what I am about to ask of you any easier." He fell into thought again.

       The men waited patiently for their ruler to begin again, enjoying the wonderful brew in their cups as 
they did so. Aethlius sipped his, too, slightly wavering, and it broke all of the men's hearts to watch him do so. 
Age had become abundant with the King, and although he was still reminiscent of his youthful character, he 
could no longer portray himself as such. Even his dark crimson tunic, adorned with golden threads, was ill 
fitting and revealed his weakening. Finally, with much effort, the old man spoke. 

       "It's my son, Generals."

       Again, the men waited for more, but there was none. Nephrite spoke up. "Endymion?"

       "I thought his place would be at your side when we met with you," Kunzite added.

       Aethlius sighed heavily. "And it would if he were here." 

       "Where is he, Majesty?" Zoisite answered, with anxiety in his voice. His eyes had stopped their 
constant roaming and kept steady on the King's face. 

       "The damn boy is gone!" Aethlius flickered with a burst of youth, instilling a fear in the four men that 
they had not known since the Great War. Taking a few flustered breaths as he avoided the silent stares of the 
generals, he licked his lips tentatively before continuing.

       "Generals, my health is fading." He spoke with a rapid pace, trying to smooth over his frustration 
with a calm fa‡ade. "Spare me your kind words; I know it shows well enough myself. After all my years on this 
planet, and all I have done, it is clear that my time is waning. Before long, I will be gone." 

       Jadeite's face was twisted with disgust, and Zoisite's mouth ran dry so he gulped down more brew. 
Nephrite had his head bowed. Kunzite kept his face unwavering, his gaze meeting the King's; he did not like 
this conversation, but knew all too well that it must happen.

       Aethlius found Kunzite's eyes uncomfortable, and kept his eyes moving around as anger rose in his 
tone. His words were quick, flowing out of him with heavy emotion. "It will soon be Endymion's turn to rule, 
a task which I have raised and prepared him for. I have every faith in my son; you know as well as I do that he 
will be a great king. I requested an audience in this very room to tell him such. Things needed to be discussed, 
as far as the affairs of the kingdom and the estate and such. Believe me, men, I was not saying goodbye to my 
son. Rather I felt that before the gods take me, I would want to give him my own words while I still had breath, 
a right I deserve as the man who united this planet! The boy said nothing, only nodded, and kept staring at me 
with his mother's blue eyes..."

       At this, the King's body seemed to relax, weighed down by the somber thought of the late Queen. 
Aethlius continued, but this time he was more composed. 

       "One morning, perhaps almost a week ago, he was gone. I thought he was off on one of his famous 
hunts on one of the islands. It took two more days for me to send out a search party. One of the guards came 
forward on the third day; he had seen Endymion use Earth's Teleport two days prior. Simply put, my son has 
left Earth and I believe it is for good."

       A loud gasp from Zoisite concluded the King's speech. The other three wore similar expressions of 
shock. "It cannot be," Zoisite murmured. "Endymion would never!"

       "Well, he has," Aethlius exhaled. 

       "Surely, Endymion knows better." Nephrite's voice was full of doubt in his own words, but his chest 
puffed in an attempt at confidence. "He knows that the Teleport is illegal. Terrans are not allowed in the Silver 
Millennium."

       The King heard Nephrite's doubt and gazed over at him sympathetically. "If he still is on this planet, 
where has he gone? None of you have heard from him, and it has already been weeks."

       "The Prince is no deserter. He was raised as a soldier, like us. He knows better." Jadeite's voice was 
low as he expressed the words as certainty. He had dropped his head down and let his sandy blonde hair cover 
his eyes.

        "I have been a foolish old man," the King said, ignoring their arguments as he struggled for another 
sip from his goblet. "My age has given me wisdom and peace that Endymion does not know yet. Just over 
twenty years is not enough to realize the importance of a sacrifice for one's kingdom. He does not want this 
crown but even he cannot fight time for me. The only way he saw to escape this mantle was to flee."

       "He is no coward." Jadeite said.

       "And yet he has left without any word like a coward!"

       The vast room fell silent as they all fell into thought, trying to dispute the logic. Kunzite was the first 
to speak. "Highness," he said. "Endymion is as a brother to me, and I spare no hesitation in saying he thinks 
the same of me. The four of us fought along side him in the Great War and are his closest council, yet I've 
heard no sign of distress from him. His whole life he has been prepared for the crown, and I do not think you 
speaking with him could make him run from it. He has accepted his place as next in line and never showed one 
ounce of fear before. There must be another reason for him to leave; a reason that he could not tell you or any 
of us."

       "Do you think my arrogant son would admit to anyone that he was scared to rule?"

       "No, but I do not think he is afraid at all," Kunzite said boldly. "Your son has never been afraid of 
your crown or his future kingdom. I have no reason to believe it of him now." The other three gave nods of 
support for this statement.

       "Perhaps." Aethlius said as his brow wrinkled with thought. "But why would he leave Earth then?"

       "We shall find out." Nephrite's voice was soft but filled a determination that drew everyone's 
attention. He looked into Aethlius' black eyes with earnest. "If anyone under your rule can find Endymion and 
bring him back, sire, we can."

       "Yes!" Zoisite jumped in adamantly. His eyes were almost filled with tears, but his lips had stretched 
into a smile at Nephrite's suggestion. "We practically grew with him during training; who else would know him 
better?"

       The King was not smiling. His face regained some of its tenacity as he stared at Nephrite, who held 
his gaze with a reverent resolve. "No," Aethlius' voice boomed. It struck a memory in each of their hearts, 
recalling the days of the War under the King's leadership. Zoisite visibly cowered slightly, his disposition greatly 
changed. However, it was only a flicker of his former greatness, and he returned to his aged state as the King 
continued. "I cannot ask this task of you. The four of you have done great things in my name, before, during, 
and after the Great War. You even left your homes to guard four distant regions of my kingdom. I have soldiers 
plenty that can go search for my son; all I ask is your council."

       "True, milord," Jadeite's voice, as always, was full of certainty. "Great soldiers they may be, but we are 
better and can surely do it in half the time. And I cannot think of a greater honor than to bring the Prince back 
myself." He added a slight bow of his head with a coy smile.

       "Yes," Nephrite added. "The War has ended and our regions live in peace thanks to you alone. They 
will be fine if we are called away for a short time."

       "Let us do this for you, my King." Kunzite uttered not a plea, but a deal to be made. "Let us aid you 
once more." There seemed to be more that silently lingered on the end of his words, and the other three 
generals' eyes left the King for the first time to turn to Kunzite. They watched the highest-ranking general with 
wide eyes, gaping at his audacity. Kunzite's demeanor did not flinch; for this reason he was the only one who 
could get away with implying such a thing.

       Aethlius knew the silent words as well as the others, but he had no shame in revealing them. "Once 
more before I die, Kunzite?" 

       The two held each other's gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. The King's face held a 
questioning defiance, while Kunzite continued to gaze with a sincere loyalty on his face. There wasn't a tension 
between the two, but the other three recognized the interaction from their military years. Aethlius was being 
challenged indirectly by Kunzite, whose cool composure ensured that he did so without overstepping 
boundaries. In turn, Kunzite was being baited to take one step too far by Aethlius, who pushed him by 
questioning him until he did so. This is where Kunzite had learned to keep his composure steady. 

       "May it never be so, my liege," Kunzite said, bowing his head. However he said it, the meaning was 
understood that the King was right in his inference. 

       "No, never," The King retorted and offered a smile, reveling in the old fun of arguments with 
Kunzite. His eyes met they icy eyes of the general, and Kunzite saw a sparkle of tears begin to form in the old 
black eyes. Aethlius nodded as if in contemplation, knowing that only Kunzite, out of all the generals, could 
bear seeing their King close to tears. Kunzite understood as well; his expression was ever steady, but a sharp pain 
wretched his heart. In an instant, the black eyes of the King were dry and commanding again. "Fine, I'll grant 
your request. My best generals shall be the ones to find my son."

       "We shall not fail you, Aethlius King," Jadeite announced, perhaps more devoted than need be.

       It only made the King grin wider. "I have no doubt of that," he said with a voice more reminiscent of 
the commander in the academy than ever. "Your quest begins tomorrow. Tonight, dine in my court with me." 
All four knew that he spoke it as a command, but it was Aethlius' own request. They accepted easily, knowing 
it might very well be the last time they ate with their King. "Tonight, we will drink to the success of your quest 
and the safe return of my son." He held up his goblet feebly to toast, with a much-improved smile. The four 
generals did the same. They all finished the pitcher quickly before feasting in the Great Hall.

       

       

       Snow fluttered down outside the castle, covering the humbled village. As her violet eyes gazed out of 
the highest tower upon the blanketed rooftops below, she could not help but take notice in how the population 
had diminished since the end of the Great War. The usual icy gush of air rushed in at her, raising her skin 
although she did not move. Her dark violet hair was pushed away from her face, which was gently sprayed with 
the snow crystals. Dressed in black, she remained completely stagnant as her country's weather fell upon her.

       The end of the Great War promised peace and prosperity, but it had brought neither. Four long years 
of Aethlius' rule brought nothing to her kingdom but despair. Raiders, who had taken the homes of her 
countrymen as hideouts, constantly attacked her people. Apparently, they resided too far into the Northland, 
too far from Aethlius' protection to warrant assistance. The once thriving village that surrounded her castle was 
almost completely deserted, save for those too poor or weak to be able to relocate. No one wanted to stay in this 
icy desolation. It was only her memories of the happy wonderland it once was that kept her, their queen, here.

       She remembered the very day that changed her wonderful kingdom's destiny, recalling the five men 
that had approached the castle gates with great ease. All of them were very different, but the way they spoke and 
acted as one inspired a great hope in her. They promised an end to the War; in exchange for the small 
kingdom's protection, all was needed was a peaceful submission to the rule of Aethlius. In every sense, they 
were all diplomats, but one was more so. It was he who convinced her. 

       "We just want this war to end," he had said during that fateful visit. A distinct image of how he 
looked when he spoke with her as they walked in the gardens came fresh to her mind. The gardens were mostly 
paths lined by pine trees, but other smaller foliage that could survive in the cold was scattered about as well. It 
was a mix of dark green and white, which made the man's black hair and blue eyes stand out boldly. 

       "An honorable motive, but forgive my doubt," she replied, "for it is not an uncommon one."

       "You speak the truth." He smiled at her, which she would never forget. It was warm, and even the 
memory of it fought away the chill of the air. "Yet we are closer to an end than ever before. No one can oppose 
my father's army now, and we would rather the remaining kingdoms pledge allegiance peacefully rather than 
forcefully. Too much blood has been shed already."

       "Yes. I must agree, and commend you on your peaceful mission. I may be young, but I understand 
our position. Mine is a small country, and not very powerful. The other kings barely acknowledge my 
kingdom, much less acquiesce allegiance."

       "Yours is still a country, nevertheless." At this point he stopped walking and placed his warm hands on 
her shoulders. He looked down at her, his blue eyes filled with concern and promise. "Under my father's rule, 
no one shall be forgotten. I promise you."

       He smiled at her, but her face was still masked in doubt. His words were lovely, but she was not 
convinced. He sensed her disbelief. 

       "If you ever need anything, you can come to me. I will do everything in my power to make sure you 
are taken care of. You have my word."

       At this memory, her eyes narrowed with a fiery anger. His word was nothing. At her sides, her fists 
clenched at the broken promise. Four years of requests for her people's protection, for aid for her refugees, had 
gone unanswered. The rage inside her was at its peak; she could hold in her pain no longer.

       Her balled up fists slammed down on the windowsill, the physical pain shooting up her nerve endings 
only a small fraction of the agony that wretched her heart. Questions would not be silenced without answers. 
Where was her justice, the prosperity for her people? As the leader of a dying kingdom, what could she do? She 
had no power, no militia, no way of enforcing the damn promise. Her hopelessness spiraled down her cheeks as 
warm, salty tears.

       Suddenly, a large impact on the horizon drew the attention of her tear-stained eyes. The whole castle 
shook as she watched a dark cloud of dust settle. She clenched the window frame for balance as everything 
settled back into place. The rage returned as her first instinct told her it was some another bombing raid. Her 
heart seemed to break more than she thought possible.

       But then a chill went up her spine. Someone was hurt in that explosion and it called to her. Every 
fiber of her was being pulled towards it as she watch the dark dust slowly disappear into the white snowfall, still 
knowing its exact location even when it was completely out of sight.

       Perhaps it was her desperation. Perhaps the calling was just that strong. Perhaps she was going mad. 
Either way, she found herself rushing through her castle and wading out into the snow. The pull seemed 
stronger as she neared the site, and the closer she got, the surer she was that she had done the right thing by 
going there.

       When she was so far away that the castle sat small and idle on the horizon, she came upon a small 
frozen lake. She knew all of her lands and this lake had never been here. It was solid ice, its edge barely visible 
from the white snow that surrounded it. It was cast in shadow as the sun fell below the horizon, but the ice 
seemed to continue to glow. Stopping, she found herself staring at the lake with hot tears flowing down her 
cheeks. As soon as she stopped, she fell to her knees and crawled to the edge of the frozen surface. Comfortable 
warmth enveloped her, and she was no longer cold.

       It was the same warm feeling that comforted her four years ago, like his hands on her shoulders. She 
could see his image looking at her from below the lake's surface. This time, his eyes were red, not blue, but still 
held that same stare of compassion, of understanding, of hope. It wasn't until now that she realized how long 
she had been hoping to see those eyes again. Her reserves of anger broke.

       Remaining on her knees, she cradled her face in her hands, weeping loudly into the beginning of the 
night. It wasn't until snow had piled onto her shoulders and soaked into her hair, creating cascading waves 
down her back, did she receive what she had gone out for.

       "You..." The voice reached out to her from the man's image on the lake. It was deep and high-
pitched at the same time, echoing in on itself. She was unsure if the voice spoke aloud or only to her because his 
mouth never moved. "You are the one who called to me."

       She gazed out on the mysterious reddened eyes from her memory on the ice. "Me?" 

       "Your pain brought me here. This planet, this man, has betrayed you. I can feel it. I am here to help 
you, empower you."

       "Help me?" Her eyes wavered with disbelief. More than anything, she wanted power. She wanted to 
never be the helpless queen of a crumbling kingdom again. Was this real? Perhaps the cold had taken over her 
and this was a final illusion before death. 

       "I've come to offer you what you most desire. Help me regain my power, and I will give you this 
planet."

       Shock washed over her. She convinced herself that this was all a trick of her strained psyche, and 
began to shake her head in effort to rid her of the haunting voice.

       "I can make you the Queen of the Earth. All I ask in return is your allegiance."

       "No!" She grew angry, lashing out at the ice with a scratchy voice. If this was a cruel illusion, her mind 
was playing on its own weakness. Her form crumbled as she wrapped her arms consolingly around herself. "I 
have given my allegiance for empty promises before. I will not be made a fool of again. If my kingdom is to die, 
then I will die with it."

       "I am not this false-hearted man!" The voice boomed now, silencing her whimpers. The visage in the 
ice was no longer the gentle face she remembered; it grew angry as well. "This promise is not empty, but it 
depends on your compliance. Your kingdom will not die. It will be expanded. My power grows even as we 
speak. Only with my help will this Earth become yours alone; all I ask is your servitude. Do what I say and I 
will crown you as the Earth's rightful ruler."

       She succumbed to the voice, her arms falling weakly into the snow. Although she had stopped 
sobbing, the tears continued to fall silently. 

       "Join me, and your suffering will soon end. Your chance for revenge grows near; the Earth King is 
dying."

       Her violet eyes opened wide as she gasped. Aethlius' death would mean that his son would soon come 
to power. She stared into his eyes on the ice and remembered his warm touch. The memory of him ached 
inside of her, bubbling over her rage, eclipsing it.

       "I want him." The words came forth from her before she realized she was speaking aloud. Quickly 
recovering, she bowed her head and spoke meekly. "Please, if I am to be queen, I want his son as my king."

       "Interesting." The ground purred beneath her. "Human emotions are very interesting. You would 
rather rule beside a dishonest man than mightily on your own?"

       "No," she choked, fresh tears rushing forth. "More than anything, I wish him to pay for his crimes 
against me, but... but I want him to be mine."

       "My will is absolute. Every soul shall belong to me or perish. If he will not serve me, he will be 
destroyed."

       "I beg you to spare him. Take every other soul for your own, but his will be mine."

       "Ah, yes. This is the reason I have heard you, Beryl. Revenge and control - two things we both desire. 
If I am to give you this planet and leave this man to you, what will you do for me in return?"

       "Anything."

       "Excellent." The ice seemed to shiver with delight. "Now I will tell you what I need of you."