The sight of the retreating Kitezan fleet was something to behold as it was, from the bridge of the Aegis, but from the ground, it was confusing.  Squinting eyes looked up into the noon-day sky, and saw the shimmer of the World Cloud get pushed back to its former position in real-time.  With his heart pounding – and half his body bandaged - former-Prince Aamin watched in horror as the armada left mere minutes after arriving.


    “There’s nothing for it, your Majesty,” Someone said from a distance, “They’re gone.”


    “Why are we even moping about it?” Another voice asked; there were two men off in the distance, each one shaking their heads, “It was a fluke that we were even in the area for this.  There was no chance they were going to see you down here.”


    “I have to get into Kitez…” Aamin muttered to himself pitifully.


    “We’ll just keep going for the border check-point,” The first man said, and hiked his backpack up a bit higher onto his shoulders, “Announce yourself to them as planned and they’ll send a Magistrate to hear your bid for asylum.”


    “We could just walk in.  It’s not like anyone could stop us going through the rest of the mountains.”


    “It would take us days to cross; it’ll take us one day to get to the nearest checkpoint.  We’re going north.”


    .


    “I WANT EVERY MAGISTRATE IN THIS ROOM IN AN HOUR.” Far’nah yelled, bursting into the Duchy’s capitol throne room.  Regulus was already with her, having never parted from her side since the border conflict, but others were further down the hall, contemplating their next move.  Far’nah flipped around on a heel, and looked at them all urgently, “WELL!?  EVERY.  MAGISTRATE.”


    “Dear, they’ve just been on a 3-day crisis-tour.  They’re exhausted.” Duke Mardu said, his hands went gently forward to caress her arms soothingly, “Let them have the day.  The danger is over…”


    “They can’t keep getting away with this!” She protested, and lifted her own hands to cup her palms around her husband’s face, “They’ve already taken your childhood friend from you…  They can’t be allowed to take anymore…”


    “Iresha is a man with his own problems,” Mardu countered, and pet the back of those hands, kissing one palm affectionately, “When his son manifested the affliction, it was a death-sentence for his Empire.  With no one in Sargon qualified or capable of helping the young Prince…it was only a matter of time before he was forced to call in the Eidolon.”


    “But what about our empire?” Far’nah wondered, “We don’t even have a son.  Or a daughter.  When we’re gone, there’s no telling what will happen to Kitez…”


    “Antagonizing the Eidolon into attacking us will only hasten that tragic future.”


    That just made her shake with anger, “They’re a cancer, Mardu…  We’re the only place they haven’t metastasized into…”


    “Just get some rest for now.  In an hour, the Conclave will be gathered, and we can discuss what to do next.  We have enough to talk about with all the people coming from Sargon who are seeking refugee status here…  Let’s tend to their needs before we feed our own egos.”


    Far’nah felt a pain in her chest, and pulled away.  She looked at the man with a sense of being betrayed, “…When did you become so soft?  It’s a tragedy that the Duchy’s line will end with…with this…”


    Mardu could only look on helplessly as his wife stormed off, and slammed yet another door behind herself as she fled into an antechamber to the throne-room.  Three Magistrates all crowded around the man in somber silence, Regulus included, though one stepped forward and in front of the others, “I’ll talk to her.  She heeds my counsel.”


    One of the youngest Magistrates of the New Conclave, Judge Oberoi had risen quickly, making a name for himself with a keen eye for truth and lies.  Side-swept pale brown hair went past his shoulders, over white-cloaked shoulders, and grey-blue eyes looked up at that closed door.  He gently tapped his delicate fingers on the enameled wood, “My Lady, it’s me.”  He waited for a little while, then knocked again, “My Lady…”


    “Come in…”


    He smiled and clicked the door open, and disappeared within.


    Regulus grumbled quietly at the sight, but turned to leave, “I’ll be back for the meeting.  Your Grace.” He bowed his head towards the Duke, and stepped away.  With the other Magistrates also vacating for the time being, Mardu was all-but left alone in that huge room.


    Passing Regulus on his way out, the masked enigma came in, “Your Grace…are you okay?  You said you’d wanted to speak to the Eidolon, but at the last moment, you froze.”


    Mardu nodded in shame, “…What do you do when your own wife scares you?” He asked, “Latheroux…  I’m a boat adrift in a sea of anti-Luminary sentiment…  I fear that if I speak my mind, I’ll be cast down, and out…  Far’nah hasn’t listened to me in years.  The Conclave has largely taken her side.  I’m the only one left who still believes we can come to a mutually-beneficial path forward with the Council…  We…we can do like Sargon, and let them in without them dominating our leadership.  Emperor Iresha still-“


    “Your Grace, the Emperor is about to find himself in a very unfortunate situation.” Latheroux answered, “His son’s affliction has put his back to the wall.  It’s only a matter of time before the Eidolon broach the idea of sending the Prince to the College at Agartha, where he can be better trained in the control over his curse.  However, we both know that by sending him there, he will become indoctrinated to the Council’s side.  Before long, he will become Emperor of Sargon after his father, and Sargon will be lost entirely.  Kitez is the only place left that stands on its own two feet.  …You still have time to decide a succession, if you aren’t able to produce an heir.”


    Mardu could only nod.


    Within the antechamber, Judge Oberoi followed behind the Duchess quietly, and she draped herself across a long reclining couch, “…I don’t know what to do with him.” She lamented, and brought her hands up to cover her eyes, “When my parents, the former Duchy, were still in power…I thought taking a meek and mild husband would please them.  That it would assuage their worries that a man would step into the court they gave to me, and try to take control for himself.  Sadly, he neither seeks command, nor supports me in mine.  He just…languishes, with no opinions whatsoever.”


    Judge Oberoi stepped closer, and moved his cloak aside so he could sit at the end of that same couch, “Your Grace, most nations are ruled by a single sovereign…or President, or Prime Minister, as the case may be.  The Emperor now has no spouse at all.  You need not stress over doing this alone.”


    “I want to see the Luminary Council burn to ash…” She said grimly, and lowered her hands to her sides.  She then pushed up to an elbow, then sat fully up, with the sound of those chimes clinking softly around her.  She reached forward and pressed a palm to that pale skin, “…You’re so young, Honorable Judge Oberoi.  In another life, you…might’ve been my son.  Alas, I can only settle for you as my tragic confidant…”


    “In private company, you can call me Tallus, my Lady.” He answered, and reached up to softly pull her fingers from his cheek.  He kissed those soft knuckles, and held there for a moment…only for his eyes to open, glowing with an eerie light.  He lowered the woman’s hand to his chin, and smiled, “There’s nothing to fear.”


    She didn’t seem to be bothered by the sight; it was as if she couldn’t see it at all, “You’re just going to talk me down from my ambitions again, aren’t you?  Tallus…”


    That soft smile widened slightly, and the luminous projections drifted forward, until the golden-white glimmer went into the Duchess’ own eyes.  She seemed to breathe it in – like an intoxicating smoke – and seemed sedate for it.  Tallus strengthened that connection though, “We can’t goad the Eidolon into a fight.  There’s far too much at risk if they take any excuse to come here by force.  You must show restraint.  The lion that stalks beyond the bars – but never enters - is as safe as one that isn’t there at all.”


    “…I’ll…try…”


    .


    Four days later…


    The slow, rhythmic sound of a bedside monitor was the first thing Ren became aware of when lucidity returned to her.  She slowly opened her eyes – the room was hazy – and she turned her head on the pillow below.  To the right, there was a big circular window, showing the midday countryside from high up in the sky; high enough that clouds passed by within arm’s reach.  She turned again, to the left, and the first thing she saw was the elevated angle of her arm.  There was a blue, gel-like wrap around it, from armpit to wrist, but where she could see her hand sticking out the end, it didn’t seem right.  She couldn’t feel it. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    “Ren?”


    “H-huh…uhh…”


    Gabriel was the first to rise from the small table in the corner, near the door; Seth was the next.  The two came to either side of the bedside, and each looked down on that hazy face, “Ren, take it slow…”


    “Wh…where…”


    “We’re on the Aegis, Miss Ren.  They got us out.” Seth explained, and cupped both of his hands around her forearm and thumb on the right side, careful of the IV lines and where they connected to the back of her hand, “We’re safe.”


    Ren’s eyes closed again with a mixture of relief and anxiety, but she turned her attention to her mentor on the left side, “What…happened…?”


    He smiled, “You’re on the good drugs, Ren.  Don’t think about it yet.  We can talk about it when you’re out of bed.”


    “I…can’t…  I can’t feel my hand…” She mumbled, “It’s…so cold…”


    Gabriel took a step back towards the corner and grabbed one of the pair of chairs, swung it around to bedside and set it backwards before him, then sat.  With his left elbow on the mattress, he threaded his fingers through her grip, and cupped the right over the back of it, “Now?”


    She all-but hissed from the surprise, “Wh-why…does it look like that?  That’s…not my hand…”


    “Do you remember fighting that Magistrate?”


    “Mhm…”


    “Well, unfortunately…you lost that one.  He got your left arm for the trouble.  The one I’m holding onto now is…from the selective cloning program.  They basically grew a new one for you over the last few days.  You had surgery to attach it yesterday.” Gabriel explained, and rubbed his thumb back and forth softly over her own, “It’ll be a while before it’s semi-functional, but…it’s good to know that you’re getting some sensation out of it already.  That’s a good sign.”


    “The others are going to be thrilled to know you’re finally awake,” Seth commented, and gave that un-mangled arm a happy squeeze, “Everyone’s been so worried.”


    “Who…came for us…?”


    “My brother, Miss Ravan, Mr. Corbin, and Commander Donivan.” The teen answered easily, “But we…I mean, they…had to leave Mr. Ianori behind.”


    “What?  No…!” She actually tried to push up onto her elbow to hear it, but Gabriel was quickly up and leaned forward to brace her shoulder, nearly knocking the chair out from under himself in so doing.


    “Easy, Ren…you’re not gonna have a good time if you try to get up too fast.” He warned, and pulled his hand back again to grab the thin metal crest of the chair to set it right again, “Seth, you wanna get the doc?”


    “Yeah!”


    “No…” Ren countered, and Seth stopped at the corner of the bed, gaping back in confusion, “…No…” She said again.


    “Miss Ren?”


    “Just…someone…get me up.”


    Gabriel shook his head, “Probably not a good idea.”


    She just glowered at him, “UP.  NOW.”


    “Yes ma’am.” He quickly changed his tune and was back on his feet to do exactly that.  Using a length of the bedsheet to fashion a sling – with the rest of it hanging over her shoulder to cover her exposed back through the hospital gown – Ren hobbled her way through the door.  Gabriel stayed under her right arm, bent over though it made him given how much taller he was.  Once they were out in the hall though, Gabriel gave up on that posture and stood up straight, letting the woman’s arm go down behind and around his back instead, “Hook your thumb into my belt or something.  I’ll steady you this way instead.”  He kept his right hand over hers, and set his left behind her to clasp around her ribs, “Easy…”


    “Where do you want to go, exactly…?” Seth wondered skeptically.


    “Anywhere else…” She answered, struggling against gravity to stay on her feet.  Her head swam a little, but she refused to give in, “I can’t stand the beeping…”


    Ren’s escape-attempt hadn’t gone unnoticed, and medical staff was already putting out alerts to those who might want to have certain updates.  The trio didn’t make it a hundred feet down the long hall before Fafnir Knights started showing up.


    “Ren…?” That was Ravan’s voice – dark olive skin with bright brown eyes, black hair, and a red streak through it on the left side - and Seth waved at her excitedly, “Shit, what are you doing out of bed?”


    “I…I gotta get outta here…” The Fourth trainee answered warily, “Before…”


    “…Ren!”


    “Ugh…”


    “Ugh?” Gabriel repeated, “What’s ‘ugh’?”


    That would be Captain Rydell, who – along with Donivan and one other – came out of the same nearby elevator just down the hall from them.  Furion came rushing around them and went out in front, eyes darting every which way at the sight of her – and the man who dared to hold onto her.  All three Fafnir side-eyed their commander knowingly, but said nothing, except Ravan.


    She stepped out between them with her hands up in front of the frigid man carefully, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this-“


    “Uhh…” Ren groaned and her head dipped; everything went tits-up after that.


    Gabriel was quick to steady her descent, but as soon as he had her head against his shoulder, he hefted her legs up over his right arm, and looked at the gathered, “She doesn’t want to be in a room with all the monitors.  Can she go somewhere else?  Does she still have her own quarters on this ship?”


    Furion practically short-circuited from the sight of it, and all of Ravan’s efforts to stall him seemed for nought; he went straight through her and stepped directly up to the mediator, eyes dark, “What do you think you’re doing?  Sir.”  He nearly choked on the word.


    “What?” Gabriel answered back nonchalantly, “She insisted on getting up.  I dunno if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of an order from her, but I just was, and I’m not gonna argue back.  So, I helped her up…then I started to feel her going down, and now we’re here.  …Does she still have a room or not?”


    Donivan could all-but feel his Captain’s blood-pressure rising, and moved to diffuse the situation; he was a well-built older man with silver running over both ears, a complexion on the russet side, and thin, dark brown eyes.  He stepped forward on Furion’s left, “I can show you, sir.  Come on this way.”


    Gabriel stepped around as well and followed the eldest Fafnir towards the elevator they’d all just come from, leaving Furion, Ravan and their third – Jense Dmitry, a man a bit younger than his Captain, with slicked-back sandy-brown hair, and blue eyes – to stand in confusion in the corridor.  The two of them looked to Furion though, and he could only bristle in silent rage.


    “…They’ve been through a lot, sir…I’m sure it’s nothing…” Ravan attempted, “What was he going to do otherwise, let her collapse?”


    “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Dame.” Furion said stiffly, “I’m glad he caught her.  It was the right thing to do.  …Back to your posts.”


    Jense and Ravan watched him go in the other direction, and Jense spoke out the corner of his mouth, “It’s like he still thinks no one knows.”


    “Worst kept secret on the ship, honestly.” She agreed, “But what does he mean by ‘posts’?  We don’t have ‘posts.’”


    “Training simulators, then?  I was gonna go play some racket-ball, myself.  Wanna come?”


    “Oh, yeah.  Sure.  …Why are we still whispering?”


    .


    Donivan opened the door to those 4-months-vacant quarters, but Seth was the first one to venture inside.  There was a certain smell about the place, for having been closed-off as long as it had, but it looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry.  Fafnir-Knight rooms were like small apartments, equipped with their own bedroom, living-space, kitchen, bathroom, and all the other essentials of living onboard a SkyFortress for months at a time.


    When Gabriel finally walked in, he was surprised at the space, “…So this was your home away from home before.”


    “This must’ve been how she left it the morning of that last mission,” Donivan surmised, “There’s still a cup in the sink from her last coffee.  …And she never did bother making her bed.”


    “No one’s been in here for all that time?” The mediator wondered, looking around to acclimate himself, and soon followed Seth into the bedroom, “At all?”


    “I guess we were worried that if we did, someone would make us clean it out.” The Wing Commander answered.  He watched quietly as Seth pushed all the blankets aside, and Gabriel set the former Fafnir into her own bed.  Blankets were pulled back overtop of her, and Gabriel set a hand on the woman’s head briefly before moving with Seth to leave the room again, and shut off the light as he went.  Donivan made his way to the small kitchenette and put the singular coffee cup into the dishwasher, then grabbed for the nearest microfiber towel to wipe the counters and sink down.


    “I’ll keep an ear out for her if you want to go back to whatever you were doing, Commander.” Gabriel answered, “Thanks for showing the way.”


    “…Are you sure you want to stay here?” The older man asked skeptically, “The Captain may want…to…”


    “If Captain Rydell wants to visit, far be it from me to stop him, but I won’t leave her alone in this condition.  Anyone else who wants to stay can, too.”


    “…Right.” Donivan nodded, and gave a salute before taking his leave, “Sir.”


    “Miss Ren will probably be starving when she wakes up again!” Seth chimed in, and followed behind the Wing Commander, “I’ll go get some stuff and bring it back!”


    “Good idea.” Gabriel agreed, and watched quietly as the pair left the room.  Left alone then, all he could do was take a slower look around.  He knew, from years of being in the Council himself, that Knights’ quarters didn’t leave a lot of room to be personal or creative; furniture was bolted-down to prevent it from moving in case of turbulence or a crash; floorplans were largely the same between SkyFortresses, only varying for the rank of the soldier or officer who lived in each space.  As a Fafnir, they were considered above the level of every other soldier in the Council’s militarized forces, except Captain, for which they had their own anyway.


    A throw-blanket was left hanging halfway off the couch, and Gabriel went over to pick it up, fold it over an arm, and then set it on the cushions.  He straightened out a few pillows, then sat down, and for lack of knowing what else to do, reached for the front left corner of the coffee table, and tapped an embedded touch-activated power button.  The television ahead of him came to life, and displayed that it was waiting for a connection.  He pulled up his overlay and offered his own.  Just as he was about to settle into the idea that he was going to have time to loaf around, he saw the flash of a light in the other room, then heard the sound of the shower coming on, “…Ren?” He called curiously.


    “I’m fine.” She answered back, though her voice was obviously tired, “…I just…need to get the smell of it all off me.  I’ll come out soon.”


    “…Okay, but…holler if you’re gonna go down?  Or something?”


    “Yeah.”


    It didn’t sound overtly confident, but Gabriel was willing to accept it…for now.