Background Story: This story takes place in the war-torn Empire of él Valentia. It is a union of Kingdoms established ironically to prevent further wars. It is the year 995 acre Demondio — after one of the greatest wars ever witnessed by mankind — and ten years after the Dylandium War, a conflict between él Valentia and a union of Kingdoms that refused to join the Empire. Amid humanity’s progress, they have managed to create the ultimate weapon: Chevaliers, automatic humanoid vehicles piloted by human beings.

Ten years following the Dylandium War, knights that had previously fought for the Empire have gathered in an uprising against it. Their reasons are many: the Empire lacks equality between the noble and the common; the establishment of the Empire has lead to a loss of national identity, with people having relinquished their mother tongue, traditions and lands. Those that fight for a change, for an Empire of equality, an Empire that maintains long-lost traditions, call themselves the Silver Wolves of the Rebellion. But it also in this time of war and prejudice, love and hate, that two girls, oblivious of their destiny, are thrown into the centre of the conflict and left no option but to walk a path of inevitability...

Main Story: The main plot centres on Neesha Alexsandra de Grayham, princess of Grayham, a small northern Kingdom of the Empire. At the beginning of the story, her family is hosting a ball in the Grandelle Castle when it is attacked by what they believe to be rebels. Neesha and her lover, Daniel, try to escape with a guard, but the princess is shocked to learn that the man she trusted the most is part of the attack. Just as he is about to shoot her, a mysterious Chevalier arrives and saves her live — and that of her maid, who has been seriously injured — in the nick of time. But for a price: Neesha learns that the pilot of that Chevalier is a thief, a brash young girl called Ricca; she is not a member of the Insurgence but desires to claim Neesha’s father’s Chevalier, the legendary White Knight of Glory, Rosencrantz, as hers. Neesha refuses to surrender her father’s most priced possessions to a thief, and as they argue, a black Chevalier, member of the attack, arrives with murderous intentions.

Ricca does not manage to hold her own against the black Chevalier for long. In all her desperation, seeing that both her maid and her saviour are on the verge of their death, Neesha calls out for help. That cry for help is answered by none other than Rosencrantz, who offers to help her under one condition. That condition is never stated, but Neesha decides to form the pact anyway. She becomes the new pilot of the White Knight of Glory and manages to defeat the black one, despite it being her first attempt at piloting. There appears to be more to her excellence in piloting than it seems... With both parents apparently dead and the castle destroyed, Neesha has no choice but to leave her Kingdom behind and join Ricca’s troupe of bandits.

The current Stanza plays after the battle in the Capital of the Empire. During their stay in the Capital, Ricca and Neesha meet Joshua, the younger of the two sons of the Emperor, and his Knight, Lachlann. It is Joshua’s 14th birthday and on this important day, the true Silver Wolves of the Rebellion arrive, not just to take revenge on the noble behind the “Grayham Act” but also to capture the Second Prince. This leads to a large-scale battle between the two factions, the Imperial Knights and the Insurgence. It is only after the Second Leader of the Rebellion and Neesha’s uncle, Leon Alexsandra de Grayham, decides that Joshua is yet not ready to be taken, that the Insurgence leaves the Capital. As the centre of the Capital collapses, Lachlann and Joshua are left no choice but to join Neesha on the mysterious bandit ship, the Wilhelmina, and flee.

In this Stanza, we learn that there is more to “King Vivi Guildenstern d’edea” — child Monarch of Edea, most-trusted advisor of the First Prince and the noble behind the “Grayham Act” — than what meets the eye...

Characters you should know but might have forgotten about:

Prince Johann Napoleon la Paladin: First Prince, Eldest Son of the Emperor and Runner-up for the Throne.

Victor Duhalla: Leon’s friend, Third Leader of the Rebellion and former General of the Tortos Army

Helené, the Blue Witch: Guardian of the Celestian Sisters who has otherworldly powers and speaks to a black cat.

Fiara: The “Seeing Eye” of the Wilhelmina. Considered somewhat nerdy.

Ariel: A promiscuous young girl, member of the Bandit Crew and Alex’s younger sister

Alex: A dim-witted, hormonally driven young man, member of the Bandit Crew.

Gyle: An old veteran, ranks below Lulu on the hierarchy of the Bandit Crew. Considered to be a bit backward.

Jill: Blandier-wannabe, member of the Bandit Crew. Considered quite a Lothario though his piloting skills are to be envied.

Ford: The silent type, member of the Bandit Crew. Virtually invisible to everyone.

Stanza Twenty-One

the blade with no hilt

There was a beam of blue moonlight, like a moment of luminous epiphany, and its intrusion through a tall, double-paned window; it formed a square beam on the dustless colonnaded floor — the sleek dustlessness of wealth that only thoroughbred nobility could boast — disturbing the looming dark and uncovering the figure that sat, half-shaded, in its midst.

Not much movement was there to add life to this dark-begotten existence, which perched on a timbered high chair in a watery white dress, like a porcelain doll; not much there to say that it truly was not just an apparition, born in its own solitude. The dress’ silk stitching and childish ruffles shimmered eerily in the semi-darkness.

A chord made the thick silence stir. It was followed by another, and another, stringing along in a measured andante until a melody was decipherable. She was playing the piano. She kept her small, spindly fingers trained to the blend of ivory and ebony, half-bent over the large, black instrument. Her eyes were closed. Her ears, attentive.

If there truly was such a thing known as a “peace of mind”, if it truly was not just the intoxicated musings of a poet, Princess Leonyne Thessalonia d’edea was feeling just that. As she fingered her way across the cool ebony and ivory keys, she found herself remembering; she found herself bathed in memories of her twin sister and herself, playing that same melody together.

The insinuation of a smile dared itself to cross her pale lips, but was held back by the grief that still remained tightly constricted in her chest. This was the only way she could release herself. Her knee-deep silver hair was almost invisible on her ghostly white dress. She was like a ghost, there, but not really. And, with eyes closed to the sound of nostalgia, which likened the soft pitter-pattering sound of rain, she descended from an adagio into a grave.

“Buchenstein’s ‘The Blade with no Hilt’”, the darkness said, not startling her however. She stopped playing and returned to the room its tuneless silence.

“Sinclair”, she muttered; and her eyes opened to reveal the kindling flames in the golden sconces of her irises. The faint smile was gone. “Did I not tell you not to intrude on me like that?”

“I just wanted to wish you a goodnight, Princess Leony.” She turned sharply upon him and pierced him with a narrow, unforgiving gaze.

“It is King Vivi for you.” She arose and listened to the chink and snicker of Sinclair’s footsteps, walking measuredly across the marble floor, passing over the tessellating squares, white and black; mirroring the struggle of moonlight and darkness with an artistic innocence. “That name I have abandoned in favour —”

“For the Kingship.” Sinclair stood in front of her, his eyes set above hers. It was almost overbearing, threatening the way he raised his geometric chin over the small girl’s head, a rebellious sneer in his thin, dark eyes.

“For my sister”, she corrected. “I have become this for her, only.”

“This”, Sinclair echoed, “is what your twin brother would have been.” Leony scowled and looked away.

“Brother?….he hated us. He only craved for the kingship like a drunkard for his bottle. He certainly was not my brother, not ours.” She clucked her lips and it resounded like a sardonic laugh in the room. “How ironic that one of my least trusted servants knows one of my biggest secrets….”

“I was the one who had advised you to become King in the stead of your late brother in the first place.” Sinclair lowered his chin a little. “But, I am surprised that you don’t see how much you have become like the late King Vivi himself.” He cambered an eyebrow, looking at something on the wall behind her. “And why do you still keep that painting in your private room if you despise him so?”

Princess Leony turned on the cuff of her heels and glared at the painting of her late twin brother, the late Prince Vivilium Guildenstern d’edea. Only a slice of moonlight managed to reach the oil painting itself, but it was enough to reveal the prominent features of the person posing in its midst, in a white and cardinal regal dress. Truly, Princess Leonyne had the same delicate facial contours as King Vivi — though they and their sister weren’t born as identical triplets.

Yet, even then the true King of Edea managed to carry an even more acidic air to himself. His jaw was a little more defined, a mannish contour — even though he had still very much been a child like Leony’s other twin, Ophelia, when he had died, King Vivi had passed early into the beginnings of pubescence — and his sharp cheek bones seemed to wing out above skin as thin as cellophane. There was a quiet menace in his golden eyes that even Leony’s could not copy.

“This is still my brother’s airship after all”, she muttered.

“Well, why is it that you only desire to save your sister while you leave your brother and parents to rot in the depths of the Royal Mausoleum?”, Sinclair continued. Princess Leony clenched her hands. “You were the only one who had escaped that tragic accident —”

“Murder!”, she exclaimed. “It was murder. My father’s own people had murdered him and the rest of the family because they abhorred his kind, rightly so. He was a monster, just like Vivi. I was lucky to have escaped that fate and now I will do my best to help my sister, who was innocent.” She turned to him, her toxic, yellow eyes narrowed. “And what grants you the right to question me, your King? It was you who pushed me into this position, you conniving little trickster.“ She began duplicating her late brother’s authoritative tone of voice. “Kneel before me, your King, lowly servant.”

Sinclair did not dispute her demand and lowered himself to his knees with his right hand clutched across the left side of his chest. He bowed his head slightly, a few strands of his inky black hair falling into his face.

“You dare threaten me, yet I wield the guillotine above your neck”, she uttered.

“A threat it is not, but more of a proposal.” Leony raised her eyebrows.

“And what may this proposal be, dear advisor and endowed dreamsage?”

“Grant me the duchy of Silvia, the border state of Edea.” Princess Leony frowned inwardly.

“You, a duke? You dare ask of me such imprudent ambitions?”

“Yes, my Lord and King.” Sinclair’s expression was unreadable. It stayed as toneless and cold as always with the traces of a self-confident grin marking his cheeks. Princess Leony found herself considering and frowned again, this time visibly.

“I see what this is. You don’t trust me. The right to the duchy of Silvia leaves you secure in case I decide I have no use for a dreamsage any more. I did not know you distrusted me this much.”

“I just need to be assured. I am sure all of your other servants wish for the same.”

“Not the loyal ones, no.” She smirked and in the moonlight, a smirk became an angelic smile. “But I will make you a Duke, if you give me something in return.” This made Sinclair look up.

“And what may this be, your Highness?”

“Information. There is much you have kept secret from me. Like, how you knew of the Silver Wolves’ siege and Rosencrantz’s appearance. Tell me everything I want to know and I will make you the Duke of Silvia. And no lies. I can see right through them and you know that.”

Lulu held the envelope towards the candlelight. The paper was old, yellow and bronze with rot and dried mildew; and it smelled of the Forests, the scent of bracken and wild dog roses and cluster amidst clusters of meadowsweet. Holding it inches from her nose, she was overwhelmed by memories of home: the murmurs of the Forest Whisperers, the devilish humidity beneath the thick, treetop canopies, even the feeling of tangly thorns shearing through her tender, dark flesh. All came back to her as though it had been yesterday. She touched her neck and was surprised by her reaction; surprised by her surprise for she had expected to feel a tight, leather collar clinging to her skin. But her neck was free. And for some reason, that scared her like never before.

Sighing, she opened the letter. Something flew out and onto the carpet, seeking refuge beneath her chair. She bent below her desk with an aim to retrieve it. What she saw made her draw a sharp breath. A large white feather lay on the floor, painted with a deep, blood red at the curled tip.

“No…” The feather meant danger. The feather meant urgency. The feather meant that she was needed. Lulu left the quill where it was for fear of touching it and returned her attention to the letter. Now, she found herself remembering that moment in Arcadia; in between the many crowds, somebody had pushed her. She had turned to inquire and seen nothing but a cat tail swinging behind the figure before it disappeared. Almost out of instinct, Lulu had searched her pockets. There, she had found the envelope.

She was about to pull the letter out, when Ariel burst into her room. Beneath messy locks of blonde hair, Alex’s younger sister looked flushed and perspirey.

“Lu, there you are!”

Lulu crammed the latter into a drawer and stood up.

“What is the matter, Ariel?”

“It’s Blandier. He and the others…”, Ariel hesitated, as though she daren’t complete the sentence, “He and the others…”

“I am coming”, Lulu said. She cast her desk one last, longing glance before she followed Ariel out of her room and into the metal-paned corridors. They walked towards Blandier’s office.

“I cannot believe this!” They heard Neesha’s voice even before they had entered. As the automatic door slid open, they stepped in and beheld the scene. The Princess of Grayham stood, cornered by the rest of the crew, in the middle of the study, hands clenched in indignation. Behind her, Blandier sat behind his desk and looked somewhat bored. Lulu could see right through his villainous mask and frowned.

“What is going on here?” The Diena scanned each face. Angry, but also ashamed and silently regretful male faces stared back at her.

“Oh, Lulu.” Neesha seemed relieved. “Lulu, please, say something! They have imprisoned Lord Joshua and his Knight!”

“What? The Paladin’s second son is on board?”

“And being treated like any other perpetrator of the Wilhelmina.” Blandier leaned his chin one hand and played with his ballpoint pen. “I did what was best. Under no circumstances can high nobility, especially not one of the Paladin’s sons, be granted the profit of trust.”

“How is that the ‘best’?!”, Neesha exclaimed. “That is hardly ever being considerate of poor Joshua! He is just a child.”

“That’s not all.” All turned to the girl standing, propped to a wall, in the background. Ricca crossed her arms above her chest. Silent waves of anger exuded her like an aura. “They have changed their mind about Neesha’s stay. They want her to leave.”

Lulu turned to Blandier, then Neesha. “Neesha?”

“It is for the best”, Blandier repeated, blandly. “After this noonday’s turn of events, we cannot allow ourselves to chauffeur a party of high-profile nobility around with us. The Second Prince is urgently required back home”, eagle’s eyes narrowed, “and so is Neesha.”

Neesha stared down at her feet. “I am not going anywhere….”, then, with a vehemence that made everyone recoil, “I am not going anywhere without my father’s Chevalier!” Languidly, Blandier looked down at the table-top and wiped an invisible smear off its surface.

“Rosencrantz is ours. We stole it fair and square. This is the rule of the Bandits. What is stolen and not retrieved by its owner, is ours.” Neesha’s cheeks burned with livid fury.

“As the only daughter of the late King of Grayham and the rightful heir to the throne, I am the owner.”

“It’s ours.” Blandier was not to be negotiated with. “And if you decide to comply with our wish, we shall free the Second Prince from captivity and let him return home.”

Dezerec protested, mousy and hidden beyond the broad shoulders of all the other men in the room. “Don’t you think that’s bein’ a bit too harsh, Blandier?”

“Shut up, Dezerec.”

Underneath a screen of amber hair, Neesha was trembling with uncurbed rage, rage that burned itself into to the very marrows of her bones. “A blade with no Hilt…”, she whispered. “You are a blade with no Hilt that stabs both its wielder and its victim! How can you betray me like this?….I thought —”

Blandier cut her short. “You thought too much, young lass. This is the real world we are living in and when the going gets though, the though get going. Luggage of your kind is not needed on this ship.”

Neesha left the room in noisy anguish, not able to bear it any longer.

“Neesha!” Both Ricca and Lulu ran after her; the former threw Blandier a disgusted glance before she exited. “Neesha!”

Neesha stomped down the corridor and into her room. Through the single, glass-paned wall to her left, she could see cloudy darkness frothing blackly, giving no hope or promise of star and moon for her to reach after. She was left to her own devices. Reaching into a cupboard, she threw her clothes out and onto hers and Ricca’s bed.

“Neesha! What the hell are you doing?”, Ricca asked.

“I am leaving, as everyone requests of me. But not without Rosencrantz.” Lulu settled against a nearby wall and observed their interaction with cross-armed inactivity.

“And how are you going to take him with you?”

“Somehow.” Motivated by savage, uncontrolled infuriation, she folded her clothes together more speedily. She felt as though she was losing control of herself, as though all she could do was simply watch while her body had been bewitched into an automatic trance and did without her willing. She had felt that way before. Just on the same day. Ribs suddenly prodded by fear, Neesha stopped and fell on her bed. “I can’t believe this is happening to me…I feel like I am losing my sanity, bit by bit.”

“Neesh…”

“You know”, hot tears stung her eyes, “I am not even as astonished of Blandier’s actions as I should be. After all, his is not the first time a man I cared for has betrayed me.” She bit her tongue when she realised what she had said. A man she cared for. Had she actually taken a second to think before saying that in the presence of Ricca? Ricca’s eyes widened; then gradually, she stepped back, her eyes descending to ground. “Ricca, I-I didn’t mean that!” Neesha got bolt upright and tried to stop her. “Please, believe, I just, I don’t...”

But the other was already gone by then. Neesha’s shoulders sunk with surrender as she fought against the welling tears. She had already cried far too much in the course of one day. As though to add to her guilt, her glance shifted to a picture, one she had familiarised herself with during her stay in the Wilhelmina: it was one of a younger Ricca and Blandier, the girl’s face a rosy smile beneath Blandier’s heavy hand.

“Neesha...” She became aware again of Lulu’s presence. The Diena slunk towards her and pulled her into a tight embrace, her head slumping deeply into the sharp line of Lulu’s cleavage. “Dear, this is not the time to start crying.”

“I know”, Neesha sobbed, “but I can’t! All has just changed for the worse. Will things ever return to normal in my life? Is normality such a forbidden ambition?” Lulu wiped the tears out of Neesha’s eyes and smiled.

“Well, honey, if you wanted life to be normal again, maybe you should have returned home with Marianne.” The truth of it made the other slump back into her breasts in embarrassment.

“I know...you are right.”

“But you don’t want to leave. You can’t leave just yet. There is something you need to do first, right? Something you don’t know yourself?” She felt Neesha’s head nodding. Overtaken by this sudden wave of sisterly fondness, Lulu hugged her more strongly, then rested her chin on the girl’s head. “I know how that feels, honey. I know. Not knowing where you belong. I feel the same way almost all the time...but, that doesn’t matter.” Gently, she helped Neesha out their embrace and faced her. The power of her honeycomb-amber eyes was magnificent; Neesha found herself melting in their warmth and yearned to return into her arms. “Honey, you have to talk to Blandier again.”

Swiftly, Neesha turned cold and diverted her eyes in childish defiance. “I can’t.”

“You have to. You have to talk to him, and this time, ask him to look you in the eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Ask him to look you in the eyes. Did you notice that he never even once dared to look you in the eyes during that conversation in his office? His lips may tell the biggest lies, but his eyes can’t. Talk to him and you will see.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Trust me, dear. Just trust me.” Lulu’s smile was a daring one.

Fiara was typing away on a keyboard in the control room, her glazed eyes set steadily and without a waver of focus upon the monitor screen. The entire ship was in uproar because of the Neesha debate, but she chose not to get involved; though she cared for Neesha and enjoyed the girl’s presence, she knew better than to bid for her to stay with them, away from home. Home, where she was safe and guarded. Mostly, of course. Otherwise Neesha would not have been lodging on their ship in the first place and her parents would still have been alive.

Fiara adjusted her glasses and continued to check the Wilhelmina’s control system. Though this was supposedly done once every week, no one but her knew of the secrecy night time offered. Every night she would slip into the control room to do another rerun of the check-up. Dezerec worked sloppily and Gyle was ever eager to return to the hangar and do some more work on the mechanics. Computers were not his friends, he said. He was more of an old-timer.

“I see someone is busy tonight.” Jill ended in a note of laughter and entered the control room without turning the lights on. Illumination came solely from the monitor screen.

“J-Jill! I, I am just d-doing some maintenance...”

“I can see that.” Jill leaned over her and into the computer screen. From close up, she could see the extent of his handsomeness: aquiline, yet strong masculine features framed by long black hair. His eyes were a very light shade of blue in religious contrast to his hair, but his lips lacked blood too add colour to his northerly paleness.

“What are you doing here?”

Jill drew back with hurt. “Why, am I not wanted?” Everything, from demeanour to physicality, was quite similar to Blandier. Fiara had always wanted to know why. She had been in the crew before him. Her first impression of Jill had not been much, a so-so person that was on the brink of invisibility. He was tall and good-looking, in a graceful slender way. The way he stood, back and shoulders flattened into sturdy perfection as though he was saluting to an Army General was somewhat attractive, yes, but still, her eyes had always perused over him with disinterest. Yet, soon after his arrival, he had changed and become more and more like the Captain of the crew.

“Say, Jill…” Fiara turned. “You are turning more and more into a mini-Blandier.” Jill broke into a fit of laughter and made Fiara blush. “I-I am serious! You aren’t the young man you were when you joined us.”

“Surely, there must be at least streak of mischievous ol’ Jill left?” He winked at her. “But you are right. I guess I am trying to hard to become like Capt’n. I mean, how else will I ever get your attention?”

Fiara swallowed. “W-what do you mean?”

“Gyle told me. You had a big crush on Blandier, didn’t you?” He didn’t await her response and sighed. “Well, which girl on this ship, didn’t? It’s hard to own up to a guy like him.”

“Jill….I never knew you felt that way a-about me.” Her of all people. Behind her overbearing glasses there was not much to catch a man’s interest. She was plain and boring, much more serious than wild girls Ariel and Ricca or busty Lulu. Again, Jill cracked a laugh.

“Damn, I was just joking, man! You take things way too seriously.” He put a hand to her shoulder and leaned closer and closer; until their lips were only a kiss away. “How ever are you going to make a man fall in love with you?” He withdrew and left her flustered and bright red. “Au revoir, beautiful.”

“H-hey!” Fiara reached for something to throw after him. “C-c-come b-back here!”

Blandier was in the observatory. It was in the upper section of his study, lead to by a short spiral of stairs and situated right beneath its domed ceiling with an enclosure of shelved books. Draped over the large telescope with his eye pressed to the lens, he tried to see the stars beyond the clouds. At starless nights like these, nothing but the refulgent moon offered the world security.

A blade with no hilt, she had called him. Her words made him chuckle, though more out of sadness than mordancy. His first love too had called him that. A heartbreaker. A wanted man. He was interrupted in his thoughts when he heard footsteps resounding on the stairs.

“Good evening, your Highness. Finished packing your bags?” Blandier adjusted the large telescope. From the corner of his other eye, he saw her shift about a little uneasily, hands clutched to her skirts.

“I haven’t. I have some matters to discuss with you.”

“I had thought all that needed to be said had already been said.” Neesha advanced.

“No. I have something to ask of you.”

“Very well.”

As she came closer, with a tentative jolt to her step, Neesha, in her absentmindedness, touched hangings of gild-stitched damask and fingered along the flowery patterns. Everywhere there was something curious to touch or look at. From up here, Blandier’s study made the impression of an old scholar’s sanctum. An armillary sphere swirled on a nearby desk while shelveworths of vials — a hobby for alchemy, perchance? — made her gape in wonder.

“C-could you, please, look me in the eyes?” Blandier changed the position of his telescope.

“Don’t see why that should be of need. Just speak your behest and you shall be heard.”

“No…” Neesha extended her hand to the old backbones of tomes read and read again until they had crumbled to a sigh of tattered, dog-eared inanity. “Look me in the eyes first.”

“You are wasting your time, Neesha —” Before he knew it, a pair of arms jerked him away from the telescope and towards the desired angle, hair flying in the wake of that single, uninvited movement. Standing close up to him like this, Neesha could see how much taller he was than her. Their eyes met.

“So, Lulu was right…”, Neesha muttered. “Your eyes can’t lie. You don’t want me to leave.”

Blandier looked away and transfixed his treacherous eyes upon the window.

“What I want does not matter. This is about your wellbeing. You can’t stay here safely. Not after what had happened in the Capital.” He tried to wrench himself out of her hold, but she persisted. Her eyes pleaded with him. He could almost feel himself give into them.

“You are doing this for me?”

“I saw what Rosencrantz is capable of. It’s a monster.” That made Neesha retreat. A monster. She was a monster.

“I know…I lost control.”

“You need to return home, where you are safe.” Tentatively, softly, Blandier put a hand to her cheek and watched her curl up to the softness of his palm. Their intimacy was unabashed, done with the knowing touch of lovers.

“I know.” She removed his hand somewhat grudgingly. “But, then, free Joshua and Lachlann. I will leave without fail once you free them.” Blandier’s eyes darkened. Seeing that she had noticed his reaction, he returned his attention to the window.

“I will free them now. Come with me. But before that...” He dug deeply into his pockets and produced a ring. An emerald twinkling like a little star.

“The Alexsandrian Gem.” Neesha dared not to touch it.

“I found it on the common room table. I think you should take it back.”

“But...”

“It’s yours. Princess or not, this too is a memento of your parents. Treasure it.” He took her right hand and opened it, then placed the ring into her palm, enclosing her reluctant fingers around it. The little star’s shine was eclipsed. “Now, let’s go.”

Lachlann’s and Joshua’s little cell was situated in the lower compartment of the airship, close to the engine room. Pipes and cables lined the metallic corridors, the walls resounding with the sound of pistons and contraptions. Down here, the air was hot and stifling with the workings of the nearby engine.

Neesha listened to the airy sounds of pumps and machinery at work as they came to a halt in front of the cell. Lachlann looked up. His face was haggard with worry.

“Lady Neesha?” Neesha put her hands around the iron bars.

“I am so very sorry about this, Lachlann. It was my entire fault.”

“Neesha?” Joshua stood up from a bench and approached her. Unlike Lachlann, he was as radiant as ever. “Neesha, I am so glad you are well. They did no do you any harm, did they?” Neesha shook her head.

“Well, I am positively insulted. Never would an honourable young gentleman like me dare to hurt her.” Blandier produced the key, a thin metallic stick that gleamed in the scant electrical lights, before he placed it into an insertion point on a data pad. The data pad beeped as he in-typed a few numbers. Immediately, the door swung open and released the two captives.

Without warning, Lachlann yielded a hard and bone-crushing punch upon Blandier’s face, cheekbones screeching beneath the pressure of his fist. The other fell back for all his astonishment and held a hand to the offended cheek.

In unison, both Lachlann and Neesha shouted, “Lachlann!”

“He deserved that”, he said, then cracked his knuckles.

“You are right.” Blandier grinned. “I did. You do punch like a little girl though. I know, because Ricca gave me one of those quite a few years ago.” Neesha inspected his cheek and frowned.

“I alone bear fault”, she touched the angry blush on Blandier’s face while it slowly but surely began to spread to his chin; then pulled away when he howled with pain, “Sorry!” She drew back and turned to the other two. “It is time for us to leave this ship.” Joshua’s eyes lit up.

“So you are coming with us?”

Blandier’s reaction was unexpected; he put an arm around Neesha’s shoulders and held her against him in a gesture of possession.

“No, she isn’t. She is staying with us.” Neesha blinked.

“Huh?”

“Changed my mind, I have. You are staying with us. I cannot allow you to leave. You are safest with us for now. ” He winked. “Would you want to give up already without uncovering the truth?” The truth. Little, invisible fingers began to tug at her heart strings as she repeated that word, in her mind. The truth would set her free.

“I do…but…”

“But, nothing. I dare not abandon you in the cold of night. And nor do I dare abandon you by the light of day. You are staying here.” The aggressive possessiveness in his indigo eyes made her cheeks explode with colour.

“V-very w-well….I’ll stay.”

And to their surprise — “And so will I.” Joshua stood defiantly beside her. “I’ll go wherever Neesha goes.”

“Joshua?” Lachlann was stumped.

“Joshua, you can’t”, Neesha said. “Great dangers await us all on this journey. I can’t take you with us while your brother is worrying himself sick over you. What of your father?” That made him falter only for a second.

“I know this is the most selfish deed one could ever commit, but”, he put a hand to his chest, “but all my life I have lived in imprisonment. And the day I thought I had finally gained what I sought, I was to learn that my freedom is aught but a pretension. A puppet to decorate the kingly strife when it is so very ostensible that my brother will ascend the throne. I do not want to live my life that way. At least let me see the Empire for what it is, and not what the books tell me. And there is something I too need to uncover….” Memories of noonday’s events overtook him; he remembered that man, Thor’s pilot, a man who had known his mother. Neesha softened with sympathy.

“Well….”

“Alright.” Blandier’s smile was childlike, clipped to the slant of his cheeks with a young boy’s thirst for adventure. “You all may stay!” He spread his arms with worldly wonderment as though he was ready to embrace the rest of the cosmos, explore and discover all its unknown secrets.

“Blandier! We can’t —”

“Why not? I am so very curious about how this tale will continue. A bandit’s mood changes with the winds, young lass.” Neesha was ready to continue protesting but he gagged her with an index finger placed on her lips. “Hush. ‘Nough had been said. He can stay if he wants to. We have room, and if we don’t, we’ll make some!”

Sheepishly and with unspoken remorse, Joshua turned to his knight.

“Lann, I understand if you do not desire to be part of this….”

“No. I am staying. Upon the oath I swore, I shall follow you to the ends of the world, your Highness.” His salute was stiff and unyielding.

“Really?”

“A knight never turns upon his oath.”

“I’d care to disagree”, Blandier quipped. “But all is well now. I am sure everyone must be very hungry after all these shenanigans. We have got some of that delicious Rotzschmell left.” Bursting with laughter, the quartet began to pick their way out of the lower corridor. And just as they did so, Neesha saw a flash of blue and red at the turn of a junction — a familiar hair band and streams of chin-length blue hair trailing behind it. It vanished in the blink of an eye and left no shadow to prove its existence, that it had really been there.

“Ricca?”, Neesha whispered.

“What is it?”, Blandier asked.

“N-nothing.” Maybe it was just exhaustion giving way to hallucinations.

Princess Leony’s frustration warranted acts of childlike aggression; acts like slamming her hands on the keyboard. A frenzied attempt at a chord echoed through the hall and stirred the silvery darkness like water at an unwanted intervention. Even from her height, she was able to look down upon her dreamsage with lips loured, hands fisted impatiently.

“You bore me, Sinclair. I demanded not for you to repeat things my ears know forward and backwards.”

“Well, what news do your ears thirst for?”

She brushed a few strands out of her face as she reclaimed her seat.

“That girl. That girl who is in company of Princess Neesha.”

“Ricca elle Dragonere.”

“Yes. You spoke some mysterious nonsense the other time”, she mimicked Sinclair’s ever-ambiguous demeanour, “‘There is more to her than meets the eye’. Tell me. I am curious.”

Sinclair grinned and told her, a few polite, “My Lord and King”s slipping their way into his long, embellished phrases. Still, despite the lack of concise explanations, Leony understood. But ironically, understanding left her with the bafflement of an illiterate simpleton.

“Unbelievable.”

“Truly”, Sinclair agreed. Then, brain racking with intricate plans, the child genius left her chair to turn cold in the moonlight and strode towards the large window. A crescent moon coloured the nightly darkness; with the passing of the red-moon phenomena, the moon would first leave the world’s nights unconfident before returning fraction upon fraction.

“Who would have thought”, she whispered. “The legacy of the Dylandium War. The bloodline of the Iron-Headed Dragon, as abundantly as ever it still flows, scarce touched upon by the hands of death. What a surprise.”

“And what will you do, my Lord?”

Leony smirked and swivelled to face him. More than ever, she looked like her late brother, resurrected from the dead in opaque moonlight — an innocent, young princess no more. Excitement blazed in her golden eyes like spitting fire.

“What will I do, you ask?”She turned back to the window. “What ever is required of me to gather all five stones, of course. Even if it means riding the Iron-Headed dragon; its fiery breath shall leave me unharmed and kill in my favour.” She laughed no sweet, cackling laugh, as her brother would have, but nurtured a stoic delight instead.