Lights, Cameras, Action! / Songe del Roze

...

"*CRASH!*

Everyone in the tavern turned to look at the new entrant who broke in through one of the windows and landed with grace. The vagrant they all saw who had made a hasty exit moments ago had just returned, armed with a lone dagger in one hand. To some, they were no more than a strange drifter who blew into town not long ago; to others, they were exactly who they were looking for, the source of all their woes. The vagrant turned to the door and saw a burly man with his blade having impaled the barista through her stomach, and the woman struggled to hold on as she looked the "vagrant" in her eyes.

"Godsdamned shitebrain, I told ye to get outta here…" Hers was a hoarse rasp as she slipped the mortal coil with each passing second. "They'll…kill ye…" The vagrant held their ground and brandished their dagger regardless, unfazed by the threat.

"I am nothing if not the last daughter of House Diamanté's Clann Carne—and we never run away to abandon our people to their fates. I am Céleste Carne von Diamanté, and I demand that you remove your blade from that woman. Now."

"Tch, so the noble brat thinks she can act tough and boss us around, eh?" The man who had impaled the barista for helping Céleste escape did just that, pulling his sword out of the woman who slumped to the tavern floor without the blade holding her up against the door. "That's cute, broad, real cute." He walked up to Céleste with a predator's grin, sizing up the smaller woman against him. "Tell you what: you pony up a pretty price, and we'll walk outta here and act like nothin' happened—might even go and buy me some fresh meat so I don't have to carve up that pretty little body of yours."

"Coin, is it? If that is what you seek, that shall be your payment." Céleste reached for the sack of gold tokens she had concealed on her and opened it up for all to see. The man before her even leaned in to take a look himself with a faux-impressed whistle.

"Not bad, girlie, not bad at all. 'Course, that ain't enough."

"Do not worry, I have your weight in gold right here…!" Céleste tossed the bag full of golden tokens into the man's face, staggering him. She moved in so quickly while everyone was distracted with the gold tokens flying everywhere that they had little time to react to Céleste slashing the man's throat open with her golden dagger. Blood ran down him like a burst dam as all he could do was clutch at his neck whilst darkness approached.

"Ghrk…! Ghlhk…!" Whatever curse he tried to scream out at Céleste was cut short by his slashed windpipe unable to make any sound save the gurgling of his blood. Soon, he fell, bleeding out and life slowly slipping away. Céleste made her move to hoist the barista to her feet before slashing the wooden bar keeping the tavern doors shut in half. Kicking the door open, Céleste was ready to scoop the barista into her arms before she turned back to the rest of the tavern one last time to see other armed individuals rising up to give chase.

"Any who pursue us will meet death! Abandon your wicked designs or pay the price!" Céleste took out all of her sacks of tokens and slashed them open toward the attackers, watching as the ordinary tavern patrons saw coinage and desperately rushed for it all, knowing Céleste's attackers would not go after them. This gave the assailants a hard time moving through the crowd getting in front of them to scoop up the coins, never mind the man on the ground bleeding out to death before them. With that, Céleste tore off her cloak and wrapped it around the other woman's torso to hold the bleeding back for a little while, then took her into her arms before running.

"Why…?" the barista asked weakly. "Why the hell ye helpin' me…? Ye don't…know me…"

"I am my family's daughter. I will do all that I can for my people."

"Heh… Are ye, now…? Ye sure haven't…been doin' so good at it…"

"I know, and all of the apologies in the world cannot make up for my inability and failings, but mark my words: I will reclaim my family's stolen honor—even if I must die for that to happen."

"Hah…Ye sure are…strange…fer a cotton-sheet missy… No one's ever…done nothin' fer me like this a-fore…"

"Please, conserve your strength. I will save you, come what may."

"Nah… Ye can't…urp…save me… Jus'…leave me… Save yerself…"

"Absolutely not. There is hope yet." Céleste didn't know how far Gardienne could hear her now, having never been so far apart from each other like this, but her lady-in-waiting was a powerful psychic fae, and she hoped against hope that she could hear her this far out.

---

...

Gaston and Roland's horses rode down the road like beasts possessed, the men themselves ready to bust down the gate if need be to rescue Céleste—never mind Gardienne who could easily reduce such gates to slag on her own with enough directed psychic force. It wouldn't do to make such an explosive entrance, however, so Gardienne messaged Gaël through telepathy to see if their lady had been located.

Gaël, what's the status?

I've not found her yet.

Not yet?

No, and I've already rounded this part of town already.

Already? That can't be right, she's in there somewhere.

If you've a better suggestion, I would love to hear it, O' Great Seer.

I…you…! No, wait—Céleste is in disguise as a vagrant beggar. I'll transmit the image to you right away. Gardienne pictured Céleste in the ragtag disguise she had ventured in with that day and formed a mass of light in her hands.

Where are you right now?

Approaching the front gate in a matter of seconds.

Excellent, we're nearly there. I only hope the guards will let us through without issue.

They will, because they are gone.

"What…?" Gardienne said that part aloud, causing Gaston and Roland to worry.

"What is it, Gardienne?! Is Céleste safe?!"

"No…"

"What!? No, she can't be—"

"No, I mean, the guards, they're…" The trio had eventually reached the front castle town gates…finding them completely abandoned, exactly as Gaël said. Gaston and Roland halted their horses at this, the animals rearing up and coming to a hard stop as their riders could only stare in complete shock at what they were looking at. They all hopped off of the horses to inspect the situation.

"What…what is this…?"

"We're supposed to have guards stationed here…right, Roland?"

"Yes, Gaston, they should have been. It does not appear that their posts had been assailed, either."

"Are you saying they deserted?"

"I am not sure what to think right now, Gardienne, but they serve directly under His Majesty's decree specifically; they're not the ones we used to employ. Still, he would have informed us in advance if he was recalling his guardsmen."

"So, if the king didn't recall them, then what could have—" Before any of them could ponder it further, the flowers they noticed by the gates suddenly opened up their petals, loosing a harsh burst of light and loud popping sounds in rapid succession. The three vassals shut their eyes from the light and covered their ears from the noise, though the horses whinnied and galloped off in a confused start.

"Accursed…! Dazzleblooms!"

"My ears! They're so loud!"

"Agh…! Céleste, hang on, we're coming for you…!" The three were forced to keep their hands over their ears until they heard the loud popping sounds die in an instant. Feeling it safe to uncover their ears and open their eyes, Gaston and Roland and Gardienne found Gaël before them having stomped on much of the flowers with the remaining ones in his mouth. He swallowed the plants and kept regarding them as they regained their bearings.

"Thank you for that, Gaël," Gardienne spoke. "We would have been here for much longer."

"The image, Gardienne."

"The image? Oh, yes, right." Gardienne retried what she did before, picturing disguised Céleste and channeling energy into her hands. She held them out for Gaël where the energy flowed from her hands into his face. He closed his eyes and found the image of Céleste in her vagrant disguise, though he took a moment to snort at the visual.

"Feh, our lady mingling with such base commonfolk so, pitiful sight."

"…That should help you find her, right?"

"It shall, assuming she is not indoors. I cannot sniff her out with so much daylight all around."

"I see. We'll split the search into air and ground to cover more—"

Gardienne…? Gardienne…? Please, can you hear me…?

"*gasp* Céleste? Céleste, where are you?" It was no greater relief than to hear her voice after the scare they had, and she seemed unharmed if out of breath. "We're on our way right now."

Please, I have a woman here who is gravely injured, and I need someone to take her back to the castle to tend to her wounds immediately.

"Our horses were scared off by dazzleblooms set at the town gate, so Gaël would have to carry her back. Where are you? Gaël can find you faster than we can."

Somewhere in the downtown backstreets approaching the main castle town square. I'm heading toward the gate.

"Good, we'll be right—"

ATTENTION. ATTENTION. DO I HAVE THE ATTENTION OF LADY GARDIENNE?

"…Frank? What is the matter?"

I AM REPORTING ON THE PRESENCE OF UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECTS TRAVELING EN ROUTE TOWARD THE CASTLE. THERE ARE A NUMBER OF CAVALRY UNITS CHARGING TOWARD THE CASTLE DOORS DOWN THE ROAD.

"What?! How is there cavalry and flying attackers charging toward the castle?!" Gardienne couldn't believe what she was hearing—they were literally just riding down the road not moments ago and saw nothing nor detected anything.

"…I see this for what it is."

"What is it, Roland?!"

"There is no way intruders and aerial attackers would have made it far en route toward the castle were it not for the absence of guardsmen. Guardsmen who should have told us of this before we left the castle. And the dazzleblooms here that scared off our horses…"

"They set this up," was the uncomfortable realization Gaston came to. "They set all of this up. The guardsmen must be collaborating with these 'uprising' agents."

"And we've left the castle alone with only Dracaena to defend it against the coming onslaught…" Gardienne had voiced her faith in Dracaena defending the castle just in case anything went wrong, and now it seemed the fickle heavens couldn't help but overhear. "Gaël, find Céleste—she's somewhere in the downtown backstreets on her way here."

"As you wish." The chiropteran wyvern took to the air for their lady before she could be surrounded by the threats Gardienne sensed.

I SHALL DEPLOY THE CALTROPS. THE TOXIC CALTROPS. AND THE STEALTH ROCK TRAPS FOR THE INTRUDERS DOWN THE ROAD AT YOUR COMMAND.

"You have my command, Frank."

AFFIRMATIVE.

"Gaston, Roland, you cover Gaël with ground support."

"Aye aye!"

"As you command, milady."

"Let's tear these gates down first." Gardienne channeled her psychic power into her hands and focused then on the gate. Despite the great force she put into the move, the gates did not budge much, a slight dent at best.

"…They didn't."

"They reinforced the gates knowing this would happen."

"Those treasonous swine…!" Gaston felt his blood boiling to such a point, something snapped. The next thing he knew, his leg was doing its own thing and wanted to make its complaint with the gates plain—rather heavy-footed in its execution to Gardienne and Roland's startlement before regret settled in for Gaston. "Ach…! Ah…oh, heavens, that…was not my finest moment."

"It most certainly was not, Gaston. Compose yourself. Losing our heads will result in Céleste losing hers and more if we do not reach her in time."

"Of…Of course… My leg…"

"Here." Gardienne held her hands out, and a rosy light glimmered from them and shone upon Gaston's bruised limb. It took a moment, but he could feel the dull numbness was gone in his thigh in time. She then returned her attention to the gates. "Let's give this another go. You two push."

"Right!"

"Of course." With Gaston and Roland against the gates, Gardienne channeled her psychic powers again to mow the gates down. "On the count of three: one, two—three!"

---

...

"Ha hah! What'd I tell you!? Biggest haul yet, Régis, and I'm still the reigning champ!"

"Very impressive, yes. It seems as though you have outcompeted both me and the Septuplets put together in corralling fish. Although, there is one small, minor, rather ultimately insignificant issue I wish to raise."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"HOW ARE WE GOING TO CARRY ALL OF THIS FISH BACK TO THE CASTLE WITHOUT A PROPER NET NOR CART TO WHEEL THEM IN WITHOUT THEM PERISHING AND ROTTING IN THE AFTERNOON SUN, YOU HOMESPUN LEAD-HEADED SAHELANTHROPUS DRESSED IN A TORTOISE'S HIDE!? The emperor penguin was as steamed as the reddest crustacean in the face launching off at the shellfish tortoise, pointing to the overabundant mass of fish lain on the beach shore with only the three of them to transport them back to the kitchen. The septuplet barnacle collective for their part simply tossed more fish onto the beach, not having caught the tirade nor caring either way. Gordon looked to Régis, then the fish, and managed a head scratch in late realization.

"Ohhhh, yeah, you do make a good point, actually." The urge to kill the tortoise only threatened to bubble over in the penguin, but he bit it down.

"Good LORD Almighty have mercy—"

"Welp, guess we can just eat the extra fish, right? Waste not, want not."

"…Of course, we can simply eat the extra fish totaling the entire square inch per capita of the largest room in the whole of the castle—which, if my memory serves right, is the combat room housing hundreds of soldiers to train daily. Splendid idea, truly."

"Yeah! I knew you'd come around to it. Whaddyou guys think over there?"

"Fish."

"Fish."

"Fish."

"Fish."

"Fish."

"Fish."

"Fiiiiish."

"That's what I'm talking about! Just wolf down a few of the little guys and haul the rest back to cook. Pretty simple! Alright, I'll get started on my pile over here!" Right before Gordon could scarf down his first bite of the day, he happened to look the castle's way and noticed what looked like a huge flock of birds heading toward it. "Hey, uh, guys?"

"What, are you finally coming to your senses and beginning to feel the onset of regret over the monumental task before us? I do so dearly hope that is the case."

"I don't know much about bird, so, you think you can tell me if it's migrating season already? That's a lot of birds over there."

"'Migrating season'? Hardly; it's still in the middle of summer. What are you talking about?" Régis turned to look at the birds heading toward the castle. "Well, now, that is a truly impressive flock of…hold a moment." Régis squinted harder and could see that they were no ordinary birds: he spotted some distinctly large, dark eagle-like birds with red, white, and blue plumage alongside smaller birds of orange color complemented by smatterings of black feathers in a flame pattern. Beside them were imposing corvids coated in dark armor, and leading the pack of them were pale storks holding in their beaks what looked like hammocks—only the hammocks had odd dark objects held in them. The birds were not alone, as they each had human riders atop each bird, and the humans looked armed.

"…Oh."

"Yeah, you see them too? Weird."

"Oh no…"

"What? What's wrong?" Gordon had no idea what was going on, and when he turned to the sloping road that led up to the castle, he noticed a herd of horses riding up toward it as well. "Hey, uh, those aren't our horses going up that road, are they?"

"They aren't."

"So that means those birds are…"

"Our castle is under attack!"

"Damn, we won't catch the bulk of them on foot! Come on—we're swimming back to the secret entrance! We'll catch some of those bastards and hope the rest won't do too much damage!"

"Come, Septuplets! We're leaving at once to defend the castle! We'll repel these invaders yet!"

"Defend the castle!" The collective shouted at once as they and their partners dove into the water and rushed back to their home as fast as they could, leaving the less important fish behind for another time.

"What could have prompted this unwarranted attack upon our castle?"

"Don't know, don't care—we'll figure that part out after we beat these guys to a pulp and ask questions then!"

"Of course, that can come later. I pray we can only make it in time."

---

...

The road leading to the castle was quickly filled with charging lancers who were all but unstoppable if met head-on at the speed they galloped. Frank knew this and to this end had requested authorization to lay down a myriad of traps along said road to slow their advance. He took aim at the sloped path with one proboscis loaded to fire.

"ANY HOSTILE ENTITY ENCROACHING UPON THE TERRITORY OF CLANN CARNE SHALL BE MET WITH DEATH." Igniting his internal gas chamber, he shot out the accumulated metal within as sharp caltrop-like shrapnel along the road. He repeated this motion twice more to litter the path with spikes before switching to his next proboscis. This second one was a concoction of accumulated metal mixed with fatal toxins, fired out twice in rapid succession and mixed with the ordinary spikes to cover more area. Last, he turned his third proboscis toward the road and ignited his internal gas chamber once more. This time, what he fired out were sharp stones from the internal minerals and rock-like substance gathered in his internals, fired out no less than five times. Some of the stones buried themselves under the dirt road, others instead lay on the ground or even hovered in the brush along the road in hiding; the last few, on the other hand, had been fired straight at the charging cavalry headed their way up the road, lodging themselves deep into the riders as jagged splinters. Those hit by these splinters fell from their mounts before they could reach the spike traps laid on the road, sparing their horses some pain when the spooked animals ran in a different direction. The less fortunate horses whose riders were not struck ended up rushing headlong into the spike traps with even their horseshoe-covered hooves having no luck against the many spikes laid down with all that entailed. The nearby buried or floating stones sprung towards those that made it through the spikes and dug deep into their marks. Horse or no, any intruder was fair game to Frank, and those stubborn enough to continue would be shot down by Frank himself. He readied his last fourth proboscis to take aim then fire at the approaching cavalry with pins like missiles. Weak spots were his aim from exposed necks to just in-between the visors of some cavalry's helmets. Even with all of this, however, a few heavy cavalry still powered through it all and made it dangerously close to the door. Frank had an answer for that, too.

"NOW IS YOUR TIME TO ACT, CHARLIE."

"Of course!" The jousting escargot emerged from within with a company of lancers, some of them heavy horsemen and a small number of them being large hornet creatures with spears for arms. The horse's hooves were outfitted with specialized horseshoes to withstand the sharpness of all the spikes, and with heavy lancers' higher position, their charge would all but smash through any surviving enemies on the way down the road.

"For Clann Carne!" Their war shout was followed by a charge so swift, so overpowering, that the leading enemy captain could only stand his ground regretting his life choices. Frank, watching this from the top of the road at the door, saw everything unfolding exactly as planned. He had little worry for Charlie's company to fall, and only the status of Truman's defense of the castle walls and rooftop remained.

Outside of the castle walls were orders being shouted left and right as soldiers and their creatures lined up on the walls to face the airborne threat headed their way, Truman in charge of ranged defense in place of Frank who remained at the door.

"Fire at will, men! Let none of these cretins breach our airspace!" Arrows and quarrels were loosed en masse to bury the flying invaders in that instant; some were hit, others dodged the incoming fire with barrel roll maneuvers and pressed their advance. "So they are familiar with this tactic. Ready the Solarbolts!" Specialized ballistae were drawn to the rooftop edges, all manned by a human for transport and aim with a single Heliolisk atop each device who unfurled their frills to take in sunlight; the deluge of electricity they subsequently generated directly fed the batteries of the ballistae they stood upon. The moment they were at full charge—

"Fire!" Electrified bolts shot into the air toward the fliers, but rather than continue flying forward, the specialized bolts reacted to the electricity inside of them before detonating in a brilliant explosion, sending charged shrapnel and plasma flying outward to catch any savvy fliers hoping to evade a straight shot. Just one blast was enough to take out an entire platoon, and the several they fired cut down the size of the fliers considerably. Some stragglers survived, and their solar powered Heliolisk-powered batteries would drain the creatures' energies too much if used in quick succession.

"Steel yourselves, men, here they come!" The few surviving storks that flew overhead dropped their rocky payload onto the soldiers from above, but before they knew it, they were quickly come upon by the flaming birds who zipped past their ranks leaving blazes in their wake. A few unlucky soldiers were cut down in the raid by armed enemy combatants riding the flaming birds, thinning their ranks before the rocks came down from above. The rocks were blocked by the soldiers' shields, but they gave off a strange smoke not long after landing.

Bombs…!

"Clear the area, men!" The warning came almost too late as the "rocks" turned out to be disguised explosive charges. The blasts scattered his men's formations with little time to regroup before the final wave of fliers descended upon them; the great eagles with red, white, and blue plumages were the first to land their attacks with fierce tackles to knock light-footed units off their feet and be run through, though some stood their ground and swatted at the birds with their armaments. Then came the armored corvids with spearbearers atop them to pick off any remaining stragglers.

"No…! This will not stand!" Truman was not about to stand by and let his brave men be cut down so effortlessly, joining the fray to rush toward any who looked ready to meet their maker. His pincers clawed through the armor of several invading combatants and picked lesser armored foes apart piece by piece in rapid succession. His wings could not lift him high, but they carried him swiftly enough from foe to foe for him to carve through enough of their numbers.

"Hold fast, men! We make our stand here for House Diamanté's Clann Carne!"

"That ready to die fer yer masters, are ye?" Truman turned to the voice but found himself quickly pinned down to the roof by a claw. He looked up and saw what had to be the raiding party's leader atop another of those flaming birds, the man a blackguard of a bladesman with his mount larger than the rest and bearing many scars across its face. "Don't worry, wish grantin' is my specialty after all—'slong as ye wantin' fer death, that is. This'll only hurt a lot." The bird he perched himself upon opened its beak with searing flame gathering deep in its throat. Truman could only stare death in the face and hope he came out on top in the end…

---

...

Back inside the nursery, Dracaena sat in quiet concern over the state of things happening outside of the castle, rocking one of the fledgling creatures to sleep in her lap with her Swablu and their Altaria mother humming gentle lullabies. She desperately wanted to be out there to help and support Céleste, but she knew why she had to remain behind; much as Gardienne put it as trusting her to defend the castle, she knew the real unstated reason she had to stay that Gardienne dared not voice herself:

They would stone you

They would hang you

They would behead you

They would burn you at the stake

They would discover who you truly are and have you executed on sight

"I suppose there is no helping it." Dracaena did not let it bother her so much, she had a home with Céleste and the others regardless of where she came from. And she knew exactly who she had to thank for that every time she looked at Céleste each day. "She really is her mother's daughter."

"Just put my babies to sleep too." Prune walked over to Dracaena and sat down next to her with an armful of berries. Dracaena recognized the fruit and giggled at the mucous dragon's choice.

"My, that must be strange to eat a fruit that makes you resistant to your own type."

"But I like these berries!"

"Haban always was your favorite, wasn't it?"

"Yup yup! I heard that my mom liked the Shuca kinds, right?"

"My dear, she adored them. Just as sweet as she liked with a little hint of that spiciness in them."

"My mom liked spicy food?"

"Just a dash of it."

"Wow. I hate spicy food, but bitter is a little more my flavor. Almost tastes like the algae I grew up on." For a moment, Prune looked just the slightest bit melancholic before perking up a little afterward. "You know, all I have to go off of my mom and where I was laid are stories you and Jiāng told me over the years. Don't get me wrong, I love your stories, but…at the same time, it makes me a little sad."

"I understand, sweetheart. We lived in a different time and place from now, and your mother, goodness bless her, was rather shy and didn't open up to others easily. Despite that, she would have loved nothing more than to watch you hatch from your egg and hold you and never let you go." Dracaena could see Prune's eyes widen just the smallest, then the blinking, and then the onset of her eyes beginning to moisten just a bit before preemptively wiping them along with the sniffle she tried to hide. She simply waited for the dragon to take her time processing this where Prune gave Dracaena a darling smile, letting the woman know that she was okay to continue. "When she matured from her little Goomy phase, she rather withdrew into her shell quite literally in fact. Took me quite a bit to get her to open up again."

"My mom had a…shell?"

"She did. Where I grew up, Goomy develop steel shells when maturing into their next phase as Sliggoo which they keep once they become Goodra like you."

"A steel shell…! Wow! That's…I don't know what to say, but that sounds so…exciting!"

"Indeed," Jiāng nodded along the other dragon's surprise. "The marshes and swamps of Dracaena's homeland were rich in much iron, and the Goomy who lived there could incorporate it into their bodies and mix it in with their mucous. It is considered a sort of regaining what your ancestors were believed to have once had. Why, I remember how your mother reacted in developing her full shell, she could—hm?" The elderly dragon suddenly stopped and craned his neck toward a direction past the room with a grave expression. Dracaena knew that expression very well: Gardienne's hypothetical "just in case" precaution was turning into a reality.

"What's going on?" Prune could feel changes in the air with her stalk-like horn feelers but couldn't identify why that was. "Is the weather getting really bad outside?"

"A storm of blades and men of ill intent rains upon us with fire and brimstone beyond these walls." Prune gasped—no, that couldn't be it, they weren't under attack, were they? "The young ones and the infirm must be protected. Let us make for the shelter with due haste."

"Of course. Prune?"

"Alright. Girls, wake up, we need to leave now." At that moment, the door to the nursery flew open, and everyone feared for the worst, but to their relief, it was only Howard and Dorian. The crustacean and seadragon were very insistent that they all hurried up and evacuated the premises, but the others still had to be carried out of the room from the nanny grass goat and her buckling to Gaël's altricial son among others. Jiāng ferried most of the young he could on his back with Prune's girls and Gaël's son in his tend, Prune herself carrying the sick mother goat and Dracaena carrying the young goat in her arms followed by her bluebirds in flight behind her. Dorian held Howard in his tail to carry around the less mobile crustacean, and they were all set to go. Before they left, Dorian huffed and hacked up until he sprayed virulent venom from his snout all over the nursery door; anyone fool enough to try and enter it would meet a none too quick nor pleasant end while buying them some time.

"Thank you, Dori," Dracaena said. The sounds of explosions from above them on the roof spelled a difficult struggle for Truman and his company, Dracaena worried for the mantis's safety. "Please, see about Truman if you two may, me and the others shall make haste for the shelter." Dorian nodded as Howard in his tail clicked his large pincer a few times. Facing away from the group and levitating some distance, Dorian waited as Howard opened his greater pincer in the opposite direction and fired off pumps of water in bursts at the ground to propel them toward the front door with speed. Now it was up to Dracaena to guide everyone to the shelter safely, but before doing so, Jiāng held out his fluffy wings for Dracaena and Prune.

"Truman is in grave danger, and to live, we must beseech the Heavens on his behalf. Come, let us join in supplication."

"Of course."

"Right."

Dracaena extended one arm towards Jiāng with the buckling held steady in her other arm, same with Prune and the goat's nanny. Once joined together and their eyes all closed, Jiāng lifted his head toward the sky, ready to invoke the heavens' blessing. His elderly voice was not the resounding call that the Gods clearly bade with clarity, but it would reach them all the same as it always did.

Shénlóng xīng yǔ

Bù zé sì fāng

Línlín jiàng shì

Wànwù shēngzhǎng

The last of the words recited, all three individuals could feel a gentle, refreshing cool wash over them from above, bathing them in their entirety with its energy, before it left them from their feet to their heads until it was within them no more. It was as though they could feel the weight of a monsoon's shower evaporate off of them. All of them opened their eyes back up, and Dracaena and Prune looked to Jiāng before each other, holding their hands just a little tighter for a moment before letting go. Jiāng turned toward the exit where the castle front doors would be, internally apologizing to Truman, Charlie, and Frank for the spot of unplanned weather changes their steel carapaces would experience in the hope the flames that would claim their lives could not spread. With that, he turned his attention in the direction of their next destination. "Come, everyone. Let us not delay a moment further."

Dracaena ushered the group toward the rearmost part of the castle, hoping to reach the lower levels quick enough to place the vulnerable and the young creatures inside. Once there, they could plan out their next move in weathering this attack on their home. While the winding halls would have taken them forever, Dracaena knew of a secret shortcut to get there faster. One hand pressed upon a peculiar groove of brick in the wall, and it came open slowly. Prune gasped at the secret mechanism and looked to Dracaena as though she pulled the greatest magic trick.

"Lady Œillet had shown me this little secret just before her passing," Dracaena said, "at the bottom of this passage lies the entrance to the shelter. I hope you are of the mind for a brief slide?"

"Slides?! Ooh, I love slides! Can I go first?"

"Now, now, Prune, I believe it best you go last."

"Aw, how come?"

"Your mucous, dear."

"My—oh, yeah, you're right about that. Sorry."

"There is nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. Jiāng, why don't you go first?" The elderly dragon nodded, crawling into the space before lying flat on his belly and raising his wings to keep Prune's young on his back in sliding forward. Down he slid into the space, disappearing into the darkness of the corridor, and Dracaena waited long enough until she suspected that he had reached the exit. Then, Dracaena crawled into the space with the grass-pelt buckling in her arms, but voices caught her and Prune's attention. They were faint but drawing closer to them, and ice gripped their hearts fearing for the worst.

"No…they couldn't have…"

"Hey, so, how does this thing close?"

"You just press your hand into the off-color brick in the wall there, fully, to close it. The one on the other side opens it up. Unfortunately, we could not figure out how to make it close on its own, so—"

"Got it. Good to know. Catch you later!"

"What? Prune, what are you—" Before Dracaena could think or react more, Prune shoved her with a headbutt down the chute before the older woman could protest. Dracaena disappeared into the darkness, and now it was the old nanny's turn to go after her. Sleep as she still was, and under the weather at that, Prune felt immensely guilty over what she was going to do next.

Sorry, Billie, please don't hate me for this

Prune set the mother goat onto the slide, and as luck would have it, that's when the old goat stirred and opened her eyes. A weak croak of a bleat in confusion at this not being the nursery she was resting in was all she had to say before Prune gently nudged her down the slide. Gravity took over from there, and the confused bleat was followed up with a panicked one that slowly faded as she went further down the slide. Prune could only wince that the old goat would absolutely tackle her the next time they saw each other before looking for that off-color brick to close up the secret shortcut.

"Alright, now, which one looks funny…?" Her train of thought was cut off when the voices drew closer, and that was about all the time she had before she went to just pressing her forepaws into every brick hoping one of them would close the secret chute. "Come on, come on, come on, please close up—please close up!" Her frantic efforts bore fruit as she heard the wall groan and slide back in place. "Yes, I did it!" with that taken care of, Prune faced the direction of the voices and glared, ready to buy Dracaena and the others time to reach the shelter while slapping her tail against the floor.

Hope you bad guys are ready to get slapped silly…! Prune stood her ground, waiting for the confrontation… And emerging from the hallway corner's shadows was a Blastoise, an Empoleon, and a Barbaracle, all wet and dripping as they rounded the corner. Prune paused, she recognized these three.

Wait a minute, that's the Septuplets, Régis, and…

"*gasp* Gordon!"

"You guys hear that?" the Blastoise asked.

"Indeed, it sounded like—" Régis couldn't finish his sentence before he saw a flash of purple sail by him and knock Gordon to the ground. "Ah, yes, it could only be her—the one who could find herself smitten with the lumbering shellfish."

"Whoa-ho, easy there, missy!" Gordon could only laugh as the mucous dragon practically smothered him in a slimy hug, and she eventually realized what she was here for before removing herself from the shellfish. Gordon took a bit to right himself being on his back, but he managed without great issue to see what it was that Prune wanted.

"Guys, I've got some really bad news. The castle, we're—"

"Under attack, yes," Régis finished for Prune. "We saw as much from the shore of the beach not too long ago and rushed back as swift as we could through the water. It appears the interior is still secure for a moment, but that can change at any opportunity. Tell us: what of the others?"

"Um, everyone but Miss Dracaena left to save Lady Céleste—Gardienne told me by telepathy that Céleste is going to be surrounded soon if they don't make it to her in time."

"Lady Céleste is in danger?"

"Yes. Right now, it's just me, Mister Jiāng, and Miss Dracaena trying to get the little ones and the sick to safety in the shelter."

"Of all the—this is too sudden an attack for this not to have been planned, that much is certain, but for it to happen not even a full day after Lady Céleste departs from the castle…"

"Means we got some rats to flush outta here," came Gordon's assessment. "Just tell us where to go, and we're on it!"

"On it!"

"On it!"

"On it!"

"On it!"

"On it!"

"On it!"

"On iiiit!"

"Oh, thank you guys so much! Let's see—Frank's outside at the front door handling the horsemen, and Truman is on the roof with our soldiers to keep the fliers out, but I think Truman's not doing so good; we heard explosions, so Mister Jiāng called for some rain to help him out up there."

"Truman… I'll not let infernal forces fell my successor and erstwhile sparring partner. And what of Toussaint? Any word on him?"

"Um, Gardienne didn't mention anything about him except for saying she couldn't get in touch, so no one really knows."

"It's unlikely for him to be absent or unreachable in all of this. Surely the cavalry's march must have disturbed his burrowing by now."

"We'll figure out what's up with him later, right now, Truman and that rooftop could use us hosing down a bird problem. No offense."

"Some taken."

"Alright, guys, to the rooftop! Except, uh…I don't…you know, "do stairs" if you catch my drift."

"Oh, of course, how could we have forgotten about that? Quite the quandary indeed." The matter would have forced Gordon to stay downstairs, but the septuplet collective moved to Gordon as though they had the answer.

"Up."

"Up."

"Up."

"Up."

"Up."

"Up."

"Uuuup."

"Look, guys, I know you want me up there too, but I can't really walk up or down stairs, so it's just gonna be you and Régi—" They didn't heed him, they just did what they did best—their own thing. They knelt down and made use of their bodies sticking out of the rock they dwelt in to hoist the heavy shellfish tortoise to his shock.

"Whoa, hey, what are you guys—oh, I, uh, that's… Okay." Despite the awkward angle they bent at as they held him at, the Barbaracle septuplets were perfectly fine holding Gordon up.

"I had no idea that you seven were capable of lifting the lumbering shellfish so."

"Me either, but that's pretty cool! Alright, guys, for real now: Truman's as good as slag if we don't get to him up there in time, even in the rain; let's get a move on!" Prune watched the trio make their way toward another hallway, hoping for their safety and success. For her part, she needed to reunite with Dracaena and the others near the shelter, her girls likely awake and wondering where their mother is.

Guess I can't use the secret shortcut slide after all… Oh well, running on foot is still fine! Off Prune sprinted, hoping to catch Dracaena, Jiāng, and her girls at the shelter…

---

...

She ran, and ran, and ran, passing through the streets she took through the town now empty of the vagrants and destitute, running on a desperate plea to whoever would listen out there—perhaps even herself—for the woman in her arms to live. She couldn't hear the barista breathing, her ears ringing with her own breath becoming ragged and her footsteps drowning even that out, but she refused to pay any mind to the dæmons in her head that said to her:

She is a damned soul consigned to Hell

Save yourself

You have your obligations to your ancestors

Your lost family

Do not kill yourself playing the noble hero

The Good Samaritan

"I can do this."

You are throwing your life away

Abandoning your duties as the last scion of Charlemagne Carne von Diamanté

"I shall do this."

You confuse your stubborn foolishness for righting the wrongs your people have suffered

"I will save her."

And make your parents' sacrifices for naught?

"...No." Dæmons swirling about in her head, doubts plaguing her even now where they once mocked her for her inaction, for her failing to live up to her family, now jeering at her for doing the very thing they had not even the previous night called her a powerless girl for not doing.

"Almighty Father, LORD of Heaven, if you still care to hear my cries now, the cries of one who had lost faith in you all those years ago…should you still care to heed my pleas, I beg you—please, let this woman live. Let me save her. Let me save my broken people. Give me the strength to break free of this damned cage…!" She didn't know if there was an Almighty Father, LORD of Heaven, up there, or if he chose to turn a deaf ear to her cries; she didn't know what to believe in anymore, she just held on to a desperate hope to do right by her beliefs. And even if she wouldn't know it then, there was one who heard her in that moment; she didn't speak, for her strength slowly ebbed each passing second, parts of her went numb and limp—she could barely keep herself focused with delirium setting in, but she still heard her. The anguish, the sincerity, she heard it all, the woman that Céleste desperately tried to save.

Guess He…left us both out like…dogs in the cold rain, didn't He…? She had stopped trying to hold on, to let herself be taken in by the Almighty Father up above and see if He finally gave a damn about her then, followed by a round of issues she would love to rattle off to Him. But to see and hear this noblewoman so honest in trying to save her life when she owed her nothing despite her jabs earlier, to repay that honesty and care by giving up and dying? She couldn't imagine the hurt she would feel and how that would tear into this woman's heart. And to think that, whatever the reason, someone actually cared about her.

…She had to. She'd do it even if it didn't work out in the end. She'd hang on. If this cotton-sheet missy risked everything to save her, then she'd stay with her as long as she could.

Everything's gone cold, I'm wonderin' why I

Got out of bed at all

The skies are full of clouds spelling rainfall

And I can't see at all

And even if I could, it'd all be grey

But the feeling of your arms

It reminds me that it's not so bad

It's not so bad

Céleste soon found herself nearing the town square from before, her retreat in sight at last. Relief came over her, and not a moment too soon—Gaël's form descending upon her from above.

"Gaël! Thank goodness you're here."

"Hm. I imagine you bit off more than you could chew—nearly fatally so if that common wench in your arms is any indication. This rain is most unwelcome as it is unexpected, so I have little patience for further nonsense. Come. You've caused quite enough of a stir today."

"I did, I truly did, and I am sorry for that. Now, we can leave, go home and—"

"Not so fast, "Lady" Céleste." The address came from behind, from someone who must have been following her for some time, and it sounded familiar like she just met with the speaker. Céleste and Gaël turned to see who it was: a blonde young woman with a dark-haired young man beside her, their complexions opposite of one another as was their clothing. Céleste could hide the surprise in her tone in seeing them pursuing her.

"You…You are…"

"Cornélia Renner, if you somehow forgot when we met earlier, or should I say when I used to write letters to your castle begging to ease up on the tackses and tariffs with my grandfather sick and unable to survive with what little we were allowed to keep to ourselves? Maybe that might jog your memory."

Too many letters to count, I'm afraid… She read the letters. Every day, she read letters, did her best to memorize and recognize the names of repeat writers, some tugged at her so painfully that she even wrote back promises to make things better. And she tried. The LORD knows she tried. Every implementation, every new measure put in place to help her people, every murder of those who thought she was wrong to exercise her authority over her own subjects and tried to buck her into a lifetime of inept figurehead. Lothaire's answer to all of that? Until her answer to his summons was "yes", his answer to everything she did was a resounding, merciless, and of the utmost finality "no". That she didn't immediately remember the name until now as one of those who made impassioned reaching outs to her had cut into her.

"I should say, you had me fooled when I first saw you; never would've thought our high and mighty duchess would play dress up and skulk around town pretending to be some random poor drifter until we got an anonymous tip off after we last spoke. It's a nice disguise—really captures the situation the commonfolk are going through right now. Don'tcha think so, Pomegranate?"

"Uh, yeah, it's really…um…"

"You don't have to say it, I get what you mean; it is rather off-color and tone. deaf. Hope you got whatever sick laughs you wanted out of this stupid farce." Céleste knew that this was going to turn ugly, and she gave a look to the barista in her arms. She looked so pale like she'd completely go limp forever at any moment. She turned to Gaël—

"Get this woman to Gardienne, she needs treatment."

"The wench is at death's door. I can smell it."

"I am not arguing this with you, Gaël. Take her to Gardienne. Now."

"Have you taken leave of your senses—"

"That is an order and that is final." Gaël almost looked taken aback with Céleste nearing raising her voice so roughly as she had never done so no matter how belligerent he was. He only huffed in response and lowered himself to ferry the barista to Gardienne as Céleste commanded with the latter gently placing the woman on his back. With the rain hampering his flight, he merely did as he was told and left to go to Gardienne. With the barista out of harm's way yet alone once more, Céleste returned her attention to the two youths behind her

"Glad to see you got some part of that "throwing your noble weight around" thing down like an art."

"Cornélia and Pomegranate, was it?" Said young man himself could almost feel himself wilt a little at the address, but he stood his ground with Cornélia nonetheless. "I understand that you are angry with me and have every right to feel that way. I have failed you, and—"

"Save it, we're not here for an apology." Bitter, acrid, and hurt was the tone Cornélia cut Céleste off with.

"Then mayhap you would rather air out your grievances with me? I can make time to listen."

"It's more than just grievances," Pomegranate said, more cordially than Cornélia. "We've got some demands to make of you, too; a final call writ from the people of the Carne Demesnes asking for changes to be put down. Call it an ultimatum if you want."

"I see. And the terms?"

"The terms see to it that you take up a sabbatical away from the castle and in plain sight of the people where you personally oversee the redevelopment and restructuring of the demesne and her people's livelihoods by hand where you live amongst us permanently if our demands aren't met."

"Very well, then. Might you two accompany me back to the castle to make the arrangements to sign in these terms?" Pomegranate and Cornélia shared a look between each other, hesitant and suspicious respectively, and turned back to Céleste.

"We actually got somewhere else in mind. Don't worry; we're escorting you there ourselves."

"…That is very kind of you."

"It's the least we can do." Céleste had suddenly become aware of there being more people than she realized surrounding the place. Some of them looked to be the burly sort of sellswords she encountered earlier. The thought that these promising young individuals resorted to hiring such brutes to force compliance from her, the sort of thugs who would murder one of their own simply for helping her, and with the insistence on getting her away from the castle struck her a disquieting sort.

"If I may ask you both something."

"Yes?"

"What is it?"

"At the House O' Barrels tavern I visited, surely you must have known that I was there, you saw the wounded barista nearly ready for the endless sleep to claim her…"

"Yeah, we saw her just now. How'd that happen?" Did they not know? Céleste found that difficult to believe with the brigands identifying her in that tavern, but she had to ask.

"The barista who gave her life for mine, she was run through by those hounds." Pomegranate and Cornélia raised concerned and confused eyebrows at this claim, looking at each other before turning to Céleste. "Answer me this, at least: are they your hired swords?"

"What in the—you're asking us if we hired someone to kill you!? Of all the—"

"Easy, easy, Cornie, she's just asking us a question. To answer that question, no, we didn't hire anyone to kill you. Maybe we scrounged up a tiny bit o' tokens for some strong arms to help track you down for us to find, and we got intel that you headed into that tavern by some hired hands we asked to bring you here, but trying to kill you isn't our style." Céleste looked them in their eyes, looking for any sign of deceit; she would forgive them if that was their intent after all and that falling back on peaceful negotiation was their aim, desperate times drove well-meaning people to desperate measures. "If you met anyone trying to kill you, I promise you—they weren't ours, although I'm sorry to hear what happened to that barista lady—"

"Pomegranate, focus, please," Cornélia said, trying to rerail the conversation on why they were here with an exasperated tone that wasn't without decency in it. "The terms can be discussed where we're headed, so it's in your best interests to come with us. We just brought some company to make sure that happens and all."

"…You suspect that I will run."

"No one in these demesnes even knew you were alive with no one having seen you ever for…Father above, how long was it that anyone could ever say they saw any of your family 'round these parts anymore!? How do we know you won't cut and run back to your castle at this point?" Céleste wanted to protest the point, but she was stopped by a sudden sharp spike of energy up her spine. She knew exactly why that was and braced herself for—

Céleste, what are you doing!?

"At ease, Gardienne, I am merely negotiating with—"

Céleste, you. are. surrounded! Why are you just standing there!? They will kill you!

"They…they spoke of wanting to discuss terms to help the people and…"

"What…? Who is she talking to?" Cornélia and Pomegranate could only look on in confusion as Céleste appeared to have a conversation with an invisible person they couldn't hear. Céleste herself had never heard Gardienne sound so intense as much as she used to be scolded by her when they were children.

"I am hoping to come to an agreement with the uprising youths here, and they—"

They are all armed to the teeth and exuding overwhelming malice! You need to run toward the front gate where we are! NOW!

"I…"

Céleste, please, our castle is under attack right now! I've just gotten word from Frank and Gordon—there are more cavalry reinforcements threatening to overwhelm the front doors even with Frank and Charlie keeping them at bay, and Gordon says Truman is in bad shape with a nasty burn on his left side and heavy casualties in the Pincer and Rookfire Platoons before Gordon and Regis with the Septuplets arrived to rescue him from the blackguards bombarding our castle roofs! I have not even spoken with Dracaena yet, so The LORD only knows what she is doing and where she is right this minute!

"…What? Our castle is…I, but how did…Why is…?" Céleste's mention of her castle in her "mental conversation" got Pomegranate and Cornélia worried; what about the castle? They were told that the men they hired would just stand there and look tough to keep anyone from running after Céleste so they could get her to come with them for negotiation. Cornélia dared to take a look at the castle in the distance, and what she saw was not good.

"Is that…smoke?" Pomegranate's observation brought everyone's attention to the stronghold, and there was smoke at the rooftop that the rain falling could not fully disperse.

"Our home is…no, this can't be…"

Armed combatants are trying to tear down our castle to nothing with explosives and endless waves of soldiers trying to overrun us! The servants inside are scared and confused, they need their duchess now! We need you now!

"Soldiers…and explosives… How could this happen…?"

We'll figure that out later! Just get out of there! Céleste never could have, in all her days, imagine that the home she had known would be assailed so swiftly and thoroughly, and that her act of leaving alone would cause this. Someone had planned this, wanted to get rid of her and snuff out the last of her ancestral bloodline. Who it could be could be anyone, but that didn't matter to her; she needed to be there for her servants and vassals to help them weather this sudden assault. Everything else could wait until then.

"…I must go."

"Where…where are you going? We haven't—"

"And we won't until this matter is settled. Pray grant me that much."

"I…we…" Céleste was already on her way away from negotiating with Cornélia and Pomegranate toward the exit of the town, but some of the burly sorts actively stepped up toward her in blockade.

"Hey, there, ma'am. Sorry t' break it to you, but we were paid to keep you here until all that negotiating an' whatever was all wrapped nice and easy."

"You would keep me from my home? My family and servants who rely upon me for guidance?"

"Family? I heard a certain somebody's the only one left of her oh so proud lineage. Ain't that right, fellas?"

"Ain't that the half of it, yeah." The men turned to each other with snickering grins, delighting in reminding Céleste of what little she had in this life. Cornélia and Pomegranate did not like where this was going—this being not what they had asked the mercenaries to do on their behalf in securing Céleste for negotiations and the demands of the commonfolk. Who exactly did they hire?

"Wanna run back to yer li'l castle 'n all? Not unless you get through us, o' course. But really, what can one noble, spoiled li'l brat all grown up do to us, eh? Pay us t' go away? Ha! That'd be something, wouldn't it? Ain't like you can do anythin' else, what with you noble types bein' weak, spineless types who'll crawl away the moment some poor commonfolk look at you funny. Bet your old man and lady were the same way."

...

...

...

Céleste didn't want to do this.

She really didn't want to do this.

She wanted them to show mercy and compassion and let her go to save those who needed her right then.

But they didn't.

They wanted to keep her here.

Let her home burn.

Let her people die.

And they spat on her family with cruelty, just to see her suffer, with smiles and laughter.

...

...

...

But now, she had to this.

"…I see. So that is your choice."

"Ain't really a say we got in the matter. We're just hired hands and all, doing what were paid to do. Got a problem with that? Maybe you can take it up with them bright-eyed circus kids over there, yeah?"

"…Very well. Then you leave me with no remaining recourse." Céleste turned away from the man, had her back to him as if looking at Pomegranate and Cornélia who looked floored, at a complete loss of what to say to explain whatever in all the ten hells this was that they absolutely did not condone, did not intend for to happen at all. She hadn't even looked at them. Her eyes were closed. She took deep breaths, steadied her heartbeat, and then they became shakier, her pulse quickened. She wasn't replaying their words in her head anymore. Other voices took center stage, the same jeers and taunts and mockery at a time where all she could do was flee, watch them cut down, butchered, desecrated—they disemboweled him, replaced her bloodcurdling screams with a gurgling death rattle. Her eyes came open up sharper than steel, she turned back around…

…that was when the man she turned away from took his last breath in a flash of gold sweeping by. Cornélia and Pomegranate were not ready for what they saw. They were not ready to see the duchess they—especially Cornélia—once believed to be little different from much of the nobility in the demesne to be nothing like either of them anticipated. They never understood why her high house was considered so highly regarded in all of the kingdom considering the state of the demesne compared to the remaining ones that still stood, and to some extent, they still didn't even now. What they saw was not someone they thought could maybe, just maybe, be a little bit strongarmed into agreeing to setting down laws for the commonfolk's benefit with a little bit of intimidation factor with the hired hands they had. They saw death. A lot of death. Swift, visceral, and none-too-restrained-in-the-slightest death. Eyes gouged. Hands split in twain down the middle. A disturbing amount of throats slashed open or stabbed into and ripped open specifically, most of them being at the Adam's apple of the male hired hands even. Even more dismemberment as gruesome as it was efficiently precise. And that death looked unbelievably incensed. This is who they attempted to, at most, scare into cooperation with the threats against her largely being hot air that they hoped would be enough. They miscalculated, lost control of the situation they thought they had, and this was the end result: death in its horrifying, unsanitized, inglorious bastardry.

---

...

Poor woman… Gardienne had pulled away from the castle town gates to heal the barista that Gaël delivered to her on Céleste's orders. She did all she was able to in stabilizing the woman's condition, at most suppressing the pain and the bleeding for a time with healing pulses until the barista could be properly mended to in the castle. Just moments away from reducing her part in forcing the castle town gate open at last with Roland and Gaston's assistance, Gardienne felt a horrid spike of the most burning rage preceding and following the silencing of a cocktail mixture of desperate adrenaline and newfound curdling fear. People past the gate were fighting for their lives possessed like never before, and one by one they went dark. The worst part? She knew this rage well, was there when it first manifested. She had reigned it in then those many years ago, but now, she was unable to keep it from exploding to the surface.

"Céleste…" Her duchess, her lady, her sister as much as she would deny it, had her first real taste of that rage Gardienne had endlessly slaved on end to keep buried. She knew this wasn't Céleste deep down, just a horrible feeling Céleste herself would hate for having as kind as she was. And Gardienne was too late to keep that rage away from her sister. She failed keeping that darkness away from Céleste that Céleste was so scared of turning into to this day and will be horrified of when she calms down, and Gardienne wanted so badly to throw her brittle hands at some drywall hoping they'd break and bleed. Then she remembered Gaston and Roland there with her; they'd not been there in the small of Céleste's room in the aftermath of that tragedy to see that festering darkness in her. But they were right at the gate hoping to push it open and rescue their duchess not knowing that she needed no rescuing anymore nor what would await them if they opened those gates.

"Gaston, Roland, Gaël…change of plans," Gardienne said. "Return to the castle and support Frank, Charlie, Truman, and the others. I will remain here and force this gate open however I can."

"By yourself?" Roland questioned.

"Yes. There are too many forces laying siege to our castle, and you two are better at handling them then I."

"I…If you're certain…?"

"I am. Please, don't worry about me. I'll force a path through. Gaël, I understand that this is already asking much of you, but please, take this woman to the castle's most secured location away from the enemy and keep watch over her. Should you be discovered, return to me at once."

"…As you wish." Gardienne would have been surprised at the wyvern's lack of protest, though the tone in his voice made plain his disdain for being ordered so and promised a later grousing. Gardienne lifted the woman onto Gaël's back as gently as she could to not worsen her condition, and she watched the dragon take off into the air amidst the rainfall before turning her attention to the men still with her.

"You two go ahead, I'll be fine here." Gaston would have protested further, but Roland knew when Gardienne needed to be alone with Céleste—or vice versa from Gardienne's tone and body language in the moment, that and knowing Gardienne must have senses that their lady was no longer in grave peril beyond the gates.

"Very well," Roland said. "We shall entrust the recovery of Céleste to you, Gardienne."

"Ser Roland…?"

"Come, Gaston. We make haste back toward the castle." Gaston knew that he was outvoted two to one. Much as he wanted to stay, he knew better than to argue back.

"…Alright. Gardienne, please return soon to us. Avec la grâce de Dieu."

"Avec la grâce de Dieu to you both as well." Gaston and Roland moved from the gate and hurried back toward the castle, leaving Gardienne by herself to force the gate open at her request. She simply sighed, remorseful in sending Gaston and Roland away after they came with her to rescue Céleste, but the less people there to see what had become of Céleste beyond the gate, the better. She poured her psychic energy into the gates once more through her hands and pressed up against them to make them budge at last, having nearly spent the bulk of her energy that day in getting them to part. Straining every ounce of her power, Gardienne gave one last push against the gates, collapsing to her knees after the exertion of force put into the shove. Breathing haggard, she looked up to see how far she got along in forcing the gates open. Nothing.

"Damnation… I can't move these gates… Lord Rosier, Lady Œillet… forgive me for not being more able to protect your daughter…"

Some lady-in-waiting she turned out to be, Gardienne wanted to chastise herself further for her shortcomings. No matter how hard she tried here, that gates would not budge from their position. She would have attempted another go at it until she spotted movement on the ground before her in the dirt; it looked to be bubbling up in a small spot ahead of her until it turned into a miniature hill. From the opening, she saw mandibles jut out from the dirt, and following them was a head with green eyes emerging from the mound. Before long, a creature coated in a shiny bronze carapace crawled its way out of the dirt and stood before the gate, segmented into parts of three with three pairs of legs on its sides, and antennae sat on its head alternating between swaying to and fro. It rounded to turn to Gardienne's direction, and she recognized this small creature with her eyes widening in surprise.

"Toussaint, is that you?" The reply Gardienne got was a high-pitched hiss of a cry like a sharp blade sliding against steel, and the creature approached and reared its head up at her before clacking its mandibles together. The display Gardienne recognized belonged only to Roland's smallest yet longest-served and closest creature companion—the iron ant Toussaint. Gardienne could only laugh with relief that she had some help after all. "I'm so glad you're here, Toussaint, I need your help. I just sent Gaston and Roland away to help defend the castle, Gaël to ferry an injured woman to safety, and Dracaena to get the vulnerable to the shelter." The small iron ant quizzically tilted his head in confusion with a sharp hiss vocalization as Gardienne knelt low to him. "Lady Céleste is just past these gates, yet I can't force them open with my psychic powers. Might you aid in prying it open with me?" The ant hissed again with his antennae, and at that Gardienne just groaned in exasperation. "No, I cannot simply teleport or even fly at that. I suppose I am simply a late bloomer, or my being more "human" than "fae" as Gaël relentlessly mocks me over is the cause of my powers being…stunted compared to others of my kind. To that end, I need help in prying this open. It appears heavily reinforced to where I cannot budge it. Mayhap tearing down some of its hinges ought meet some success? Your mandibles might prove more powerful in this endeavor than my psychic force." Toussaint nodded his head and turned to the gates in front of them. While Gardienne had some psychic ability to probe for weaknesses in living beings, inorganic material was largely out of her depth of experience—metals most of all—but Toussaint's compound eyes were sharper for picking apart details for things Gardienne couldn't discern through plain sight. Before long, he spied a starting point to work at, though the rain made scaling the gates a difficult task. He voiced this concern to Gardienne through his hissing and twiddling his antennae to mimic the rainfall, Gardienne understanding him perfectly fine despite his lack of human speech.

"No worries, I can elevate you simple enough." Gardienne used her psychic power to lift Toussaint into the air for him to chip away at the weaker joints. Small the hinges were, too small for the likes of Gaston or Roland to pry at, but Toussaint could bore into them without issue; his razor-sharp mandibles did their best to dig into and tear away at the bolts keeping the gate secured, and though the rain proved irksome even here, the iron ant was nothing if not determined while working at astounding speed. Before either of them knew it, one bolt was gone on one side, and to their fortune, that side loosened a noticeable enough degree. Not one to waste momentum, Gardienne held Toussaint at the remaining bolts to pick away until they were nothing.

"Yes, we're getting there…!" Soon, there was nothing holding up that side of the gates anymore, and so, sitting Toussaint back down on the ground, Gardienne summoned her psychic might once more to rip the gates asunder, and Gardienne was never so happy to chuck a gate aside so forcefully—damned barricade more harmful than beneficial at this point. Looking past what was once there, however, did not bring her immediate relief in seeing Céleste; her eyes widened before closing, crestfallen at looking upon her lady who stood unharmed. It was not a sight to celebrate over. Céleste was there, posture shaky under the rigid stance she was forcing herself to maintain, dagger clutched tightly in her hand like her life depended on it, blood staining her clothes, and head hung low as though refusing to meet anyone's visage but those of the bodies on the ground before her. Gardienne could make out two other figures standing behind Céleste a fair distance away, unmoving in their traumatized terror staring at the noblewoman before them. Gardienne's first instinct was to run up to Céleste, hug her, tell her that she didn't mean to do this, anything to assuage the woman who was a dam ready to burst anew at any moment. Instead, she slowly approached Céleste to not startle her or the onlookers behind her.

"Céleste… Are you alright?" She wasted no time in gently taking Céleste's hands into her own, feeling them being squeezed just a little bit harder as Céleste refused to look up and meet her eyes.

"I'm…sorry…" Shaky, on the verge of tears her voice was, apologizing likely for a great many things such as today going sideways beyond any of their imaginations. "I…I didn't…"

"Céleste, please… We would never fault you for this. I will never fault you for this, and neither would either of your parents." At that moment, Céleste's legs chose to give out from the strain, and to her knees she fell; Gardienne was quicker and kept her lady from bruising upon impact in holding to her as Céleste began audibly choking back a breakdown.

"H-How can you be so certain… This…what I've done here is—"

"This isn't you; it will never become you. We all have some part of us that we…may not be proud of. These don't define us, My Lady. Even should we fall short of who we aspire to be, the best versions of ourselves, we can manage—overcome, together when our own two feet fail ourselves. We have each other to lean on, to share in one another's pain, sorrows, joys, love… So…please, Céleste, do not give up on yourself or think you unworthy of our love and support for this." Gardienne could see the trickling down Céleste's face unable to be held back and unable to be hidden amidst the rain. Céleste made a sound that came across as a sobbing laugh in between steadying her breath, but Gardienne could tell that Céleste was feeling the slightest bit better at the very least.

"You sound exactly like Mother." Gardienne managed a light smile at that, glad that Céleste was coming out of her depressive sinking.

"She would say the same thing were she here now. I am positive of that."

"What have I done to deserve the kindness of my house…" At last, Céleste raised her head to look at Gardienne face-to-face, and there was all the self-loathing yet gratefulness made plain in her eyes with a sad but thankful smile on her lips. Gardienne did what she did best and dried the tears away with gentle brushes of her hand.

"By being the beautiful daughter whom Lord Rosier and Lady Œillet loved so much, them and your elder brother Tréfle." Céleste looked ready to tear up anew at the notion her family would still love her so despite her shortcomings.

"Y-You are truly too kind to me, Gardienne…"

"I speak of truth from my heart." Gardienne would have said more were it not for Toussaint, who had been observing the exchange, hissing shrilly in the backdrop of rain drops against the ground.

The castle, right…

"Come, Céleste, our castle is in dire need of her lady to defend her."

"…Right you are. We've dawdled here long enough." Céleste struggled to stand to her feet, her first thought being to fully right herself to not appear so helpless. The tired part of her won out in the end, so she allowed herself to lean against Gardienne who took her upon her shoulder to carry them both. Céleste let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding until she was in Gardienne's embrace, and an immense wave of relief washed over her even if she was not entirely at her best at the moment. "Thank you…for not giving up on me, Gardienne…"

"Always. Unto mine own death, as The LORD bade, my life is My Lady's minder in all things."

"And so much more than that" Gardienne felt her heart skip a beat at Céleste's words as she carried her lady. Much as she wanted to admit it herself, she dared not presume kinship with Céleste now as a grown Gardevoir like she used to entertain during their younger years. For humans and inhuman creatures, even the fae, to be family in these lands was frowned upon and persecuted, though Lord Rosier and Lady Œillet never cared for official writ if it stood opposed to their beliefs. Gardienne looked to Toussaint and saw the iron ant intensely focused ahead behind them, and she remembered the two youths still there through it all. They were a mix of regret, remorse, and dread of what would come next. Gardienne wanted to be angry at them for recklessly setting up this entire disaster, but she couldn't; she didn't have time to be angry at them or drag them back with her for questioning, she needed to get Céleste back to the castle immediately. Instead, disappointed silence was all she had to offer them as she left the area. Toussaint seemed to be of the same mind when he skittered toward the duo and screeched at them with a horrible metal sound, gnashing his mandibles all the while.

"Point taken—c'mon Cornie!"

"O-Okay!" Pomegranate and Cornélia bolted from the ant in a hurry, not wanting to get sprayed by any acid he may or may not have had. Deterrent complete, Toussaint scurried toward Gardienne and Céleste on their way out of the town square. His feelers picked up the overwhelming scent of fresh blood even in the damp rain, turning to the bodies Céleste felled. For Céleste to have viciously killed so many of these men was a problem if other people were to come by the abandoned square, and he was just one ant who couldn't possibly bury all the bodies by himself. He did catch a pair of men silently slinking away from the area, guardsmen from the look of their clothes, but Toussaint was not familiar with their look so he ignored them for the time being. Then, something twinkling in the rain caught his eye on one of the bodies; he investigated, crawling up to the body of who was presumably the leader of the men here, and Toussaint picked up something that proved Céleste's killing of these men much worse than being merely "problematic".

---

...

The hard-fought battle for the castle had finally come to a decisive close as Frank observed it. The unexpected rain proved highly challenging to work with as it washed away much of the caltrops and stealth rocks he laid on the road as well as hampering their cavalry's downhill offense more than the enemy's uphill struggle, but it later proved to be a boon in saving Truman's life from the blackguards on the castle rooftops if he heard correctly, dampening their firebirds' strafing efforts to send their abode up in smoke such as the one who would have ended Truman. Not long after that, Frank had seen thunderclouds gathering toward the rooftop and already knew what was happening next—"divine judgment" some would have called it, others a freak lightning storm, but to Frank? The Solarbolts division's Heliolisks simply knew how to improvise and take advantage of the weather changes for guaranteed marks struck with lightning calls. Just in time as well with the arrival of Gaston and Roland to handle the surviving prisoners they took once their leader was downed.

"Frank! Status report!"

"THE BATTLE HAS CONCLUDED IN EARNEST, CAPTAIN ROLAND. THE TIMELY ARRIVALS OF GORDON, RÉGIS, AND THE SEPTUPLETS SECURED CLANN CARNE'S VICTORY HOWEVER NARROW."

"Well, that's a relief," Gaston remarked, glad his team managed to make it back from their fishing trip. "Would have also been nice to know you laid caltrops and sharp stones everywhere, but we can work that out later."

"Indeed. And…Truman's condition?"

"HE HAS SUSTAINED TEMPORARY BLINDING IN HIS LEFT EYE AND THE LOSS OF HIS LEFT WING FROM MODERATE BURNS. HE SHALL RECOVER IN DUE TIME. I SUSPECT THE RAIN WAS NOT NATURAL AS THE FORECAST FORETOLD A SUNNY DAY WITH NO CLOUDS." Strange indeed was the sudden rain, but Roland didn't mind it even as it made the trek back to the castle more difficult with a mudslide they narrowly avoided on the way back; Truman was saved by it, and that was all that mattered to him. "THE CAVALRY PLATOON HAS TAKEN MINOR CASUALTIES FOLLOWING THE RAINFALL, BUT THE RANKS CAN BE REPLENISHED WITH LITTLE ISSUE."

"Even so," said escargot lancer spoke as he and other soldiers drew near, "The losses we did sustain were quite heavy. Much of our best knights and their horses were felled due to the mudslides disorienting our posture, leaving our Beedrill lancers the primary skirmishers. I pray we can regain what we have lost, and may The LORD bless the brave men and their steeds who are no longer with us."

"I see. Thank you for your report, Charlie. We will hold a funerary service in their honor ere long. Now, we should see to Truman's injuries at once."

"HE HAS BEEN ESCORTED BY THE SEPTUPLETS TO THE SHELTER WHERE DRACAENA AND THE OTHER CIVILIANS HAVE EVACUATED TOWARD, ALONG WITH A COMMON WOMAN BROUGHT TO THE CASTLE BY GAËL."

"Ah, the barista Céleste bade Gardienne to stop the pain and some bleeding for," Gaston recalled. "Poor woman, I wonder how that happened."

"I suppose we can ask her once she is conscious and willing to talk about it", said Roland. "For now, we make for the rooftop and see what we can learn from the surviving invaders, who led this charge, and where they are based. Charlie, Frank, might I ask the two of you to stand guard for a little longer?"

"But of course, Captain Roland. None shall pass us."

"AFFIRMATIVE." The men thanked their creature companions and went through the front door on their way for the stairs inside. The inside of the castle was thankfully unscathed, but for such an offensive to be mounted against them and so quickly their most able defenders were away would have surely spelled their clan's end had it not been for Gardienne's psychic forewarning and telepathic communication. There had to have been some inside help—Gaston could think of no other reason, and Roland believed the same.

"Do you think His Majesty had a hand in this, Ser Roland? The guards at the gate should have been here to help in the defense of our castle or to at least be there to rescue Céleste from her pursuers."

"We unfortunately lack evidence that points to him playing a role, and to implicate him is tantamount to treason at best."

"Ah, right, I forget you were once the former general of the army and royal guard's captain aside."

"At ease, Gaston. That is not to say I think highly of him, only that if he were involved, he would typically have us all carted off to the execution square with little reason given beyond failing him in his eyes. Such a crude method of acting through this uprising would be beneath him and his more direct approach."

"Yeah, that would make more sense. Perhaps a band of mercenaries or former knights would prove more likely and able."

"We shall get to the bottom of this conspiracy yet." Eventually, the two men made it to the castle rooftops, and on them, they found the few surviving invaders all bound and with their leader surrounded by Gordon, Régis, Howard, and Dorian who looked ready to kill the man at a moment's notice. They all took notice of Gaston and Roland's arrival.

"Hey there, boss!" Gordon called out. "Just in time, too! We just finished rounding up these knuckleheads."

"ThyoSeptuplets escorted Truman to have his wounds taken care of proper," Régis spoke. "Now, I do believe we have the commander of these ruffians here. You give the word, and we shall have him and his men executed."

"Hold a moment," Roland said. "We must ask of him a few things before determining his fate."

"An' what makes ye think I'll tell ye anythin'?" The leader of the blackguards spat out a bitter laugh and some phlegm to the side, flashing a defiant grin at the men before him. "Ye think me the type t' beg fer his life?"

"You will tell us what we want to know," Gaston bit out, "or, failing that, we will ask your surviving men the same questions, and for each person that does not answer, that is one head that will roll, and we will keep going until the last of you is left."

"Ye wastin' yer breath, sissy fruitcake. Why don'tche prance off and bake some lady food for some other pansy like yer little princess."

"Petit merdeux…!"

"Calm yourself, Gaston. Don't let this craven get under your skin."

"I…he… …Yes, of course. *ahem* My apologies, Ser Roland."

"What you say is correct, however." Roland then turned his attention to the invading leader. "Refusal to answer will be met with a swift execution for this attack on our castle and her charges. Spare your fellow men some mercy and cooperate with us here, and your sentences shall be commuted with lighter sentences."

"My "men"? Ptoo, buncha limp-headed coneys they turned out—they can all eat it and kick rocks for all I care, so go ahead." The amount of betrayed gasps in the air cut through the ongoing downpour. One of them even raised himself up to yell at their leader.

"You can't be serious, Captain! Is this not the second time you've done this to us!?"

"Aw, stuff yer bunched panties in it, ya lousy backlinin' kitten. Ain't my fault yer "logistical work" keeps pullin' in drag-along pikas that're too soft to last in our line o' work."

"You would truly throw your men away so?" Roland was aghast at the suggestion that this man would so callously abandon those under his leadership. "Have you no sense of loyalty or responsibility?"

"Ye don't survive this long without cuttin' dead weight loose when ye need to. 'sides, ye still ain't gettin' anythin' outta me, and killin' me ain't gonna make her little problem go away."

"You mean to say that more is on the way."

"Not if ye don't wise up an' cut me loose—with a li'l somethin' I can use to make it stop."

"You mean for us to bribe you to call off whatever is to come."

"Eh, bribe, protection tokens, whatever ye want t' call it."

"I should have known you would come to this…" The man's men could only watch as their leader sold them out and tried to weasel his way out of execution all the while. Gaston and Roland almost felt bad for them, but they still attacked the castle, and so they would need to be punished for their invasion.

"Come on, boss, these chumps ain't worth our time," Gordon growled. "Let's just me and Howard hose them off all the way over the roof, drown these rats in the water nearby."

"For once, I am in agreement," Régis said. "They are clearly of no value to us, but letting them live to escape and walk free is an unthinkable leave of our facilities after the damage they've wrought upon our home. Their weighted armor should prove quite the challenge in managing to attempt swimming back to shore." Gaston was of the same mind, but whether Roland would condone was another matter. Before anyone could do anything, they felt that familiar fuzzy buzz in their heads. It was Gardienne.

Gaston? Roland? I have Céleste, and we are almost home.

"You've rescued her? Thank the Almighty Father for that." Gaston couldn't be more relieved at the news, Roland smiling and letting out a tense held breath.

Indeed. Although, what is this that I'm hearing of "drowning rats"?

"We've captured the leader of these ruffians who refuses to cooperate with us and even threatens that worse will come if we do not allow him to walk free, his men be damned. Gordon and Régis here were of the mind that we shove them off into the water to sink."

I would hold off on any action until we get up there. Let me get to him; I'll use what's left of my energy for now to pry his mind open, and then we'll find out who was in charge of this.

"A sound idea," Roland commended. "And what of Céleste herself? How is she?"

Shaken and exhausted, but she is unharmed and will recover soon. She was accosted by a man in the tavern who ran the barista through with his sword before she slew him, and more armed men barricaded her way out until she, well…let's just say they will not walk again to trouble anyone else.

"…I see."

It is strange, though, for her to say the specific men looked related after the fact.

"Brothers, I presume?"

"Feh, always knew those two were the weak links," the man said. "Whatever chat yer havin' with yer imaginary friends, I'm bettin' yer little princess clipped their limp heads off."

"That is quite enough out of you. In fact, you would be wise to choose your next words carefully. We've received word from a friend of ours; she is on her way and will probe the truth out of you herself, dig into your mind to determine what information you have. You speak true before she gets here, your sentence will be swift and painless as caged rat than dead rat, you and your men yet living to right your wrongs. Refuse or speak falsehoods, and when she finds out the truth, we will throw you and you alone over into the deep and ensure you will not escape to survive."

"Ye ain't gettin' shite outta me unless it's me walkin' outta here with some bloody gold, not while I'm the only one outta these lily-livered leverets getting' tossed aside like trash."

"Oh ho, how the smug coquelet falls apart when he doesn't get his way, eh Ser Roland? Ah, I will enjoy watching you squirm until Gardienne gets here."

"I ain't takin' this shite from no ponce-loafered f*gg*t!"

"Ouch, is your petit ego that bruised for schoolyard name-calling? For shame, and here I thought you were a bigger man than that." What happened next gave everyone a small start with the blackguard violently thrashing about in his binds, howling like a man possessed. Gordon, Howard, and Dorian readied their blasts in case he tried anything rash. A minute later when he exhausted himself, everyone drew closer but kept themselves trained on him out of caution. Dorian even spat a solution of corrosive acid onto the castle rooftop to demonstrate that they were all serious about him keeping still and speaking up if he didn't want to get thrown to the fish.

"Best not to incense the man further, Gaston."

"Alright, alright, Ser Roland. It was fun while it lasted."

We're inside the castle, now, Gardienne messaged. We'll be right up there in just a few moments.

"And not a moment too soon," Roland replied. "Your day of reckoning is at hand, fiend. You chose to remain silent and refused to cooperate in the least, and it has bought you a demise fitting of your cruelty toward our subjects here. May The LORD find mercy in you in the hereafter."

"…I ain't lettin' you choose how I go out… You all can eat shite…!" The man thrashed violently again, launching himself dead center into Dorian's abdomen. The impact caused the seadragon to spew out his built-up venom on reflex, the substance spraying all over the man who tackled him and, as some of his men could see, all over his eyes and into his open mouth. The result was immediate from his pained writhing and screaming to everyone watching from his men to the vassals holding him captive, even Dorian looking on in indignation and shock that his deterrent against rash action ended up causing this. The acid burned in and through him and his armor, killing him slowly from the inside out while entombing him in his own melting flesh and mail.

"No—! Stop the acid! H-Howard, use a heal pulse on him!" Howard did just do at Gaston's command and began charging up the small psychic energy he had in him. Unfortunately, time was not on his side as the man continued breaking down everywhere. "Nonononono—just—just use it right now! Keep hitting him with it over and over until it stops!" As he bade, Howard did just that, firing a low level heal pulse into the man to counter the effects of the acid burning through him in rapid-fire fashion. This caught Gardienne's attention as everyone felt that buzzing in their heads again flare up something fierce.

Gaston, Roland, what's going on!?

"I—I don't… he…this man—"

"The man here tackled Dorian in his stomach, causing him to spew acid all over the man and into his insides!"

No…! That craven…!

"Howard's healing pulses don't seem to be very effective right now. The man will be dead ere long."

Damn, damn, damn—! Everyone could only watch the man slowly waste away as Howard's heal pulses could do naught to save him. By the time Gardienne arrived with Céleste on the rooftop, Gardienne felt the last conscious shred of the man fade into nothing. All that remained of him was a husk of misshapen flesh and steel lying before them. Gardienne could only curse the man who denied them information on what happened this day to spite them for not getting his way, the man who tried to immolate Truman with abject cruelty taking the coward's way out. Céleste, for her part, only wordlessly stared at the corpse, its face no more than a caved-in mush. A part of her wanted to see if he had the same visage as the other men who assailed her in the town.

"Céleste! You're unharmed! Oh, Notre Père qui es aux cieux, thank you."

"…So I am, Gaston."

"Erm, Céleste…? Are you feeling well?"

"I will be…eventually. Thank you, Gaston."

"Of…Of course, Céleste."

"Your Grace," Roland began, "If I may ask, what shall we do with the men here? Given how their leader killed himself to keep Gardienne from probing his mind for the truth of this operation and cared not a whit for his men, it is safe to assume that only he knew anything of import. The rest may very well know nothing."

Céleste took a sweeping look over the surviving men, took stock of how their bird creatures all lay in broken piles around them—just beasts sacrificed for their violence, and saw the bodies of some of her own soldiers and their creature companions either barely hanging on or dead. She thought back to Pomegranate and Cornélia from earlier, how full of hurt and mistrust they held for her—the duchess who failed them, then went back to these hired hands; they weren't the hired hands of truly desperate youths but selfish despoilers looking to plunder and manipulating others for that end. She knew Gardienne could feel it, but she cast a look her lady-in-waiting's way for confirmation on who they were dealing with.

"…Do they know anything?" Gardienne was glad that that fiery rage from before was gone but was not too sure about this ice in her lady's voice now. Still, she tented her fingers and closed her eyes to peer into these men's minds for answers. She could hear their voices, their varying thoughts on a great many telling details about this siege from their initial nonchalance in attacking a castle, annoyance at taking orders from "pups" to just stand around and look intimidating being an insult to their cred, to the spoils they would receive both if they claimed it and from their mysterious backer only their late leader knew of from his off-hand mentions; it was disappointing, nothing but apathy, vanity, and greed motivated this attack, and more disappointing was that it was the extent of what they knew about it all. Of course, there was now the fear of being executed for this and hoping that they could just get off with just imprisonment, but that's all it was—thinking they'll manage as just prisoners for not knowing anything about who led this attack. After opening her eyes, she turned to Céleste.

"They know nothing." The ice she felt in Céleste did not change in being warmer or colder, it just was. Céleste herself then turned to Roland.

"…Roland…"

"My Grace."

"…I have need of borrowing something of yours for a spell."

"…By your command, you shall have it."

"Your axe."

---

...

Dracaena had wondered, worried greatly, of what was now going on outside the castle and especially with Céleste. She hadn't word from Gardienne for a period of time since she left to rescue Céleste. Of course, she led everyone to the shelter where they waited even now and would not go against Gardienne's plea for her to remain behind, but each passing minute felt like an hour with her hair threatening to turn gray staying put while her goddaughters were out doing who knew what in this crisis. With her were all of the many domestic servants incapable of contributing to defense of their castle among those too weak to do so—among them being the grass-pelt nanny Billie and her buckling who instead kept to aromatherapy for the wounded such as Truman. The collective barnacle septuplets remained with the group for an extra set of eyes and hands to pass around medical and nutritional supplies to those who needed it. Gaël, who had arrived with a woman near death, had unceremoniously dumped her onto Dracaena to handle with the physicians called to retreat with everyone else in the castle in the shelter; Dracaena had never been more horrified to learn that this woman protected Céleste from an assassination, though she only knew of it from Gaël who was sent here by Gardienne who received her from Céleste herself—she even ordered Gaël to have her treated. The woman was unconscious, but with Gardienne able to stop the pain and bleeding prior for however long that would have lasted, the woman was tended to by all of their available doctors who were successful in patching her up and stabilizing her condition. Gaël would have left out to combat the soldiers attacking the castle had Gardienne not order him as well using Céleste's order to make him comply, so he merely hung from the ceiling in no mood to interact with anyone else further for the rest of this crisis. Then Prune, right beside her with her youngest in her arms and the older of her two girls next to her, twiddled her antennae horns feeling Dracaena's distress and scooted a smidge closer to the older woman.

"Are you alright, Miss Dracaena?"

"Ah, Prune, I suppose you could say that I am rather beside myself fretting over everyone else. No matter how often they must leave out to take care of things, I always find myself worrying and praying for their safety."

"Well, maybe you can always go with them to make sure that they know you care about them."

"LORD knows I would if I could but, well, the matter is complicated."

"How come?"

"You see, Prune," Jiāng spoke up, craning his neck over to them from behind, "there are a great many people here who would rather drive foreign entities from their soil than to welcome them with open arms. It is not a fear rooted in nothing, sadly, as there has been a long and contentious history the Kingdom of the Franks has held with the eastern lands across the ocean."

"I myself might not be able to enjoy spending time with the others beyond these castle walls for long were I to be out in the public." Dracaena saw the dragon mother only look confused between her and Jiāng, not getting what they meant.

"But…you two didn't come from across the ocean, right?"

"I am, in fact, foreign to these lands," Jiāng answered. "I hail from those same eastern islands I spoke of."

"You…do…? But…those are the…" Prune looked around as if anyone was listening in, leaning close to whisper, "…Drakken Isles."

"So they are, Prune."

"Then…that means you're…an enemy of the kingdom…" Prune looked around the room and found most of the other creatures asleep or resting—Gaël awake but ignoring everything around him—but the domestic servants and all they shared the space with only looked back with about the same expressions as Jiāng and Dracaena. They knew. They all knew. "What…what's going on here…?"

"Prune, sweetie," Dracaena began, "you are right that the Frankish Kingdom views the "Drakken" as their enemy, and their fears of them are not unfounded."

"Many a time were there incursions into each other's lands on both sides,"Jiāng explained, "the dragon tamers to the East often seeing the Frankish as "wicked fae folk" while the Frankish in turn dæmonize the dragon tamers as "savage barbarian Drakken". Blood has been spilled over the many centuries between the two cultures and continues so at present. But not all of both sides are wholly right or wrong in the conflict."

"But…if you leave the castle, then you would be—"

"Slain and executed, yes," Dracaena replied. "The "Drakken" have long been feared and discriminated against in the Frankish Kingdom, and now, they face the threat of execution along with their dragons by law if they are seen ever since the new king took power."

"Slain and executed? But…I can understand that Jiāng would be slain… Who would be executed if they were seen?" Prune looked between Jiāng and Dracaena, noting the latter's smile having fallen into a sad frown. It didn't take with Prune at first, but it slowly clicked, and then the horrible realization dawned on her with a gasp that made Dracaena look the smallest bit sadder. "Miss…Dracaena…?"

"Much as I would love to stroll about with Céleste, Gardienne, Gaston, and Roland, there is a reason I simply cannot be without the castle walls."

"…That's why Gardienne asked you to stay here…"

"It's through the gracious mercy of Céleste's mother, the late Lady Œillet, cultivating a haven that you, me, and Jiāng can comfortably dwell within without prejudice. You not growing a shell like your mother is both a blessing and a sadness—a blessing that you may at least walk somewhat more freely than us as shell-less members of your species naturally dwell with the kingdom's own marshes and swamps which are far less rich in iron than your mother's homeland for you to grow a shell, but a sadness too as having such would connect you with your roots and heritage from the islands. She would have loved for that to be a part of you." Prune looked to the rest of the room again, no one having said anything. How had she grown up in these halls without ever knowing of it herself until now? Did everyone else feel that she wouldn't able to handle this information before, or was it that she was never told because there was never a need to until now with the castle threatened and neither Dracaena nor Jiāng able to leave and help Céleste? She didn't get to ask more questions before everyone felt that familiar buzzing in their heads.

Dracaena, are you there?

"Gardienne, sweetheart? Yes, I am here. How is everything going?"

It is…a lot to cover, but the important part is that Céleste is home and safe for now. The invasion has passed—our castle is secure.

"A blessing to hear, indeed. Although, I imagine that "a lot to cover" is quite the news, correct?"

It is.

"Where are you right now?"

We are passing by the shelter looking for you.

"Oh! Gardienne, dear, we're right here in the shelter!"

You are?

"Yes! We'll be right out!" Dracaena felt about all of the worry in her evaporate like mist. "Come, everyone—our lady is home. Let us greet her after her long day of work." With everyone in the shelter relieved at the announcement, they stood ready at attention to receive their lady as Dracaena unfastened the locks to allow their leave. Prune, watching Dracaena tinker with the mechanisms, couldn't help but wonder about the nature of the Frankish and the Drakken being anything more than enemies from all she heard growing up; she couldn't believe Dracaena was one of those very same Drakken and how she was so trusted to know secrets of the castle like the shortcut to the shelter and the shelter's defense mechanisms themselves, but more than that was how difficult it was to believe that Dracaena was truly treated as a household member within Clann Carne rather than just a gilded prisoner and what that said about everything she thought she knew. She resolved to ask the older woman everything about her that she would be willing to speak of. Eventually, Dracaena undid the locks keeping them in with the doors sliding open to grant them exit. Before them stood Céleste and much of her coterie with her.

"Thank the Heavens you are all back home," Dracaena said as she moved to pull Céleste into a warm embrace before doing the same for Gardienne. "How are you feeling right now?" Dracaena asked as a kindness to not presume of them, but she could see the bloodied disguise hidden under the large robe draped over Céleste while Gardienne appeared pristine save for whatever stained Céleste sticking to her from holding her. Dracaena chose not to draw attention to these grisly details nor what looked like Roland's axe sullied with viscera and gripped with Death's strength in Céleste's hand, choosing to allay whatever torment plagued her. While Céleste remained silent, Dracaena offered her gentle warmth and patience until words found her and her eyes were not focused on anything but other people in the space. Gaston and Roland for their parts looked like they had seen something they wished they could unsee, but they kept their graces about them; Gordon looked very much troubled on the other hand while Régis betrayed no emotion in his expression nor posture. Before long, Céleste found it in her to look at Dracaena who was pained by the sorrow hidden behind the thin sheet of ice frosting her eyes. Then, her lips moved in preparation to speak.

"I…am feeling rather unwell, Dracaena." The duchess spared a brief look at the weapon in her hand, and she pulled a pristine cloth from the robe over her. Slowly, she wiped across the blade of its head, cleaning it of the stains marring its polished surface, and she turned to Roland to hand him his axe back. "My apologies again for, well…my less than graceful handling of your arms, Roland."

"Please, Your Grace, there is no trouble at all. The situation may sometimes call for a more direct and less refined approach."

"Is that so…"

"I…don't recall having ever seen you actually, er…"

"I should hope for you to not see more of such from me, Gaston. I…regret you having seen that."

"Nono—I am simply…surprised, is all. I am no stranger to having to put down dogs who threaten you, Céleste."

"Mangy kennel bereft of their head, no less." Céleste caught herself a second too late after the words fell from her mouth. She took to compose herself before speaking again. "…My apologies, I oughtn't disgrace the dead so."

"Céleste, dear?" Dracaena and the remaining household servants looked to their duchess on what they were to do next moving forward from this event. Céleste looked over each one of them, a myriad of expressions regarding her. She wanted to say she could use a massage, a hot meal and bath, some soothing tea, some company to ease her frayed nerves; the words that came out of her mouth betrayed her desires.

"I…simply need to be away by myself for a spell, to relax for the moment. The rest of you…you may tend to what needs be done. I am not yet ready for further activity."

"Céleste…" Gardienne laid a soft hand upon her lady's shoulder, already knowing that her wanting to be alone would only hurt her further. Céleste knew it, yet the dæmons in her mind refused to be silent:

Your foolish stunt precludes further pampering for the night

Spare your servants your caprices and leave them be

You will only trouble them with your—

Céleste… There it was, the voice she desperately hoped would talk her out of this depressive spiral. She saw Gardienne look at her, felt her hand squeezing her own gently, and knew exactly what her lady-in-waiting would say next.

"Please," Gardienne began, "allow us to unburden you, Céleste. You need not suffer alone any longer. We are here for you and shall always be; just give the word, and we shall be there to banish whatever shadows plague your mind." Céleste knew the truth behind those words—even should she not give the order, they would tend to her either way; they wanted her to not be afraid to ask for help as she had been the many years following the deaths of her parents and her brother. How the situation mirrored earlier in the day; then she had internally waited for any one of them to protest her decision to leave by herself but ultimately conceded to her word, but now they waited upon her for her word to serve her. She failed them in not asking them to accompany her in the first place and paid for it, and she would not deny them a second time.

"…*ahem* Very well then. However, before anyone here tends to my needs." Céleste turned toward the barista who was being held in the septuplets' hold. "…I will see that her condition and all of our wounded first being taken care of."

---

...

Hours passed following Céleste's return, and the castle was abuzz with activity from the many household servants tending to the damaged exterior to others preparing meals for the exhausted and weary. Gaston was in a state ensuring that all of the dishes were prepared with the utmost attention to detail for the nutrition portions and intake upheld to his standards, Roland acting as his second set of arms in the endeavor to keep everyone fed during the meal hour while making sure Gaston kept his cool. Dracaena worked with the physicians in patching up those still living from the attack on their castle while organizing funeral services for those they had lost in battle, writing elegies to sing when the time came for each departed soul. Gardienne acted in Céleste's stead to issue out commands of where everything needed to go while her duchess rested up in her room. Once everything was where they should be, Gardienne gave the signal for Gaston, Roland, and Dracaena to make their way up to Céleste's private quarters; Céleste had only promised that she would allow others to tend to her concerns, though she still shied away into her retreat with everyone else occupied. Gardienne and the others knew it was only because she needed just a little more time to herself before feeling wholly comfortable being around others. Right she was, for Céleste spent an undue amount of pacing about in her quarters. No matter how many attended her in her castle, a small part of her always felt alone…

[Short Written Song "Ce Sang en Moi" Ahead]

Moons twenty-four, short of a score...

Scars I've since bore, forevermore...

And now I see, what waits for me...

Beyond the sea, of misery...

Alas did love pure so curdle to fear,

When forced to endure the loss of those dear

Those left, they assure, salvation draws near...

But why, must the cure, be HE who can't hear...?

...

Mother, Father, and dearest Brother too,

Distant, and farther, your presence drifts too soon

I beg thee, stay with me, I've longed to hear your voices

Please guide me, your darling, that I'd make the right choices...

Since that day you stole away from mortal eyes and heaven's graces,

I can't say what path I'd stay without love from your warm embraces...

—No, stop, dæmons in my head...

I'm not so helpless as a duchess crying for the dead

There's life in me and life with me...I shan't toss it away

You raised me, Carne's heir indeed, I'll honour you someday

And yet...

This blood that flows in me,

Since our land's antiquity,

Of all heirs and scions bequeathed such a history of faith and duty...

Many tales of praise of glory

Unto he who serves His Majesty~

Such stories, so foreign to me...

Of this life, they may never grace me, not with Heaven's mercy nor Hell's damning eternity...

...

Why me...?

Why this blood from vaunted centuries...?

Prithee, divine my forebears' legacies

Of what sorceries, of what melodies, they once whispered to the sylphs and fae

To be granted a seat near kings and queens in harmony

At least...'till this newer day...

...

...This blade you bade I treasure...

...On the day our bonds were severed...

...Would I could, to hear its songs,

Before you were silenced...

...Forever...

...

[End of short song "Ce Sang en Moi"]

...

...

Céleste looked to the portrait of her family hanging on her wall, her late father's Aménageur de Jardins in her hand. All she knew was that it was a holy blade passed down from their first ancestor Charlemagne Carne von Diamanté—or simply Charlemagne of the Diadem Monts' carnation fields if old historical texts were to be believed. The dagger's name alluded to being a maker of garden beds, and while she was not one to shy from garden work, she hardly believed that that was what made her family so indispensable to the royal line across generations. Their ability to commune with the fae, on the other hand, was something she felt was the real reason her bloodline was tied so closely to the kings and queens of the Franks; a decisive victory to push the Drakken out of the barren wastes eons ago so the Franks may flourish and populate the lands into what they are known as today was a story she loved hearing as a girl and hoped she too could speak to the fae and entreat their protection of her family. That day may never come to pass now with her parents dead and with them the lessons they hoped to impart unto her before her coming of a little under eight scores of moons. And she had marred its golden surface with the blood of her own people, pursuers as they were after her life. It would be a miracle if she would ever learn of its secrets, but she would have to settle with keeping it for her father's sake and do the best she could as duchess to pass it down to her own heirs should she live that long. A knock at her door brought her from her thoughts, the pattern and timing too familiar for her to not know who it was.

"Come on in, Gardienne. I merely concluded my retreat of self-reflection." The door slowly opened up, and in came Gardienne with Gaston, Roland, and Dracaena behind her.

"I should hope your definition of "self-reflection" precludes sequestering oneself away from loved ones to court dæmons whispering in one's mind."

"I should never dream of it, Gardienne, and my apologies for the leave of company. Though, I imagine yours was of naught but concern for my well-being in seeking me here."

"Me and everyone else within this castle, need I remind you?"

"Of course. My apologies, once again."

"You may start apologizing, if you are so intent…" Gardienne closed the distance between her and Céleste before speaking again, "…confiding in us your worries and sharing in your burdens freely. Duchess of The Diamanté's Duchy's Carne Demesnes, you are, I fear that title comes with amnesia regarding your other human needs you've sorely neglected. So, until you are comfortable with remembering that…" At her cue, Roland closed the door behind them all as they walked up to and took up residence on Céleste's bed. "…we shall practice with you leaning upon us. Literally." Céleste tried not to laugh as Gardienne tried her best to manage a stern expression while a smile crept to her face; her attempts failed when looking at Gaston's knowing grin and cocked brow paired with Roland's unshakeable formal decorum giving way to a small curl up at his lips' edges—Dracaena herself also tried and failed to hide the giggles bubbling in her throat.

"As in our maiden days? Truly, Gardienne?"

"You have yet to outgrow threatening gray tresses to supplant my green locks before our golden years, so yes, just as so. Now come, I shall brook no further delay in your much needed rest."

"Fine, fine, I concede. I only pray your shoulders are still fit to support my weight." Céleste made way for her vassals and took the spot between Gardienne and Dracaena left open for her. Sitting on her bed, she already felt much of her unease in the moment begin to fade. Then she smiled a smile the two women knew from her younger years. "Hmmmm… Methinks Dracaena's shoulder looks quite the support to lay my weary head upon. Mayhap I should—"

"You dare." Céleste found her head gently but firmly pulled away from the other woman until her head was nestled squarely in the groove of Gardienne's neck. Everyone else laughed while Gardienne put on a mock pout of hurt. "You forget I am the fae of embraces, little princess. I'll not suffer you slandering my soothing touch, unless I am no longer up to your lofty standards, O' Duchess of Carne? Then begone with you if that is how you feel."

"Forgive me, Gardienne, I only tease. Pray, embrace your wayward ward."

"As my wayward ward wishes." Céleste finished her laughter and laid her head upon Gardienne with a relieved sigh that sounded long overdue. Gardienne could feel so much bad vibes about dissipate from Céleste almost completely, though that small worrying insecurity had ticked itself away deep into her mind for now, glad that she got Céleste to unwind at last. "Comfortable, dear?"

"So very comfortable. I…can't remember the last I was held as such."

"Too long ago, if you ask me."

"Indeed, far too long since I allowed myself such simple revelries. Heavens know how sorely I missed this. Why did I ever turn away from it…?"

"You were a girl grieving her loved ones' losses and felt you needed to be strong now without them protecting you. You became the only scion of a storied dynasty in one night, and the king… He changed…"

"A tyrant taking the place of our rightful ruler," Gaston bitterly remarked. "The whole royal family up and dies one day, and then Lothaire Frankincense of Versailles III takes the throne. Oh, how we thought he would guide us in those dark times."

"His cruelty unprecedented, his power unchallenged since," Roland noted. "T'was a mere day that many of the old laws governing our people were upended when he took power. Many dare not leave their homes for fear of crossing his wrath in any small way while the destitute wait for him to pass by them one day and decide they crowd his view, removing them violently."

"The situation with the Eastern islands and her peoples progressively worsens by the day as well," Dracaena sadly spoke of. "Too many young men sent to their deaths at His Majesty's command, and so many innocents otherwise lost in the middle of it all."

"Still, we do what we can to make the best of this situation," Gardienne added in. "We stand together as one unit just as Lady Œillet and Lords Rosier and Tréfle would have wanted. For now, let us simply enjoy this space we have with one another…basking in it." Céleste's head resting against her shoulder with Dracaena on the other side humming a hymn she found herself swaying to, Gaston taking up a space on her other shoulder hoping to get a reaction out of her but otherwise enjoying the atmosphere, and Roland the ever-vigilant knight not far with his watchful yet softened gaze, this was the closest to a family Gardienne could envision. She missed this more than she made plain before, the bond and unity lost in the wake of so much happening at once and the years grinding on. Gardienne more than anything wanted this to last forever. It was not to be, she knew, but a beautiful dream was all she needed; the rest could come next..

---

...

The climb up the stairs toward Céleste's room was not an easy one for creatures like them, but they made it work. The black-and-red bladed creature standing on two legs made its way up with an armored ant coated in bronze. Its task a long and perilous one following developments in the castle town, they saw it complete all the same and came from it with vital information their duchess needed to hear. In one hand was a written correspondence bearing the royal insignia he claimed from intercepting its deliverer, and the smaller creature to his side carried in their jaws a badge of the same make.

"You are certain the seal came from the bodies of the mercenaries encountered in town?" the bipedal creature asked the armored hexapod. The response was a shrill hiss of varying pitch which the former took as confirmation. "Troubling revelations indeed. Our duchess must be made aware of this. The uprising movement's base of operations has finally been secured, yet it may not be the commonfolk we ought to prepare for if this correspondence and that badge are related."

...

[End of "Songe del Roze: Episode 1 – Encaged"]

...

Ash had just finished watching the first recorded episode of this series on the Rhondshrym Estate's large theater television screen, and all he could say was, "Wow" with Pikachu similarly speechless. This was the first time he watched a feature project starring Diantha in it, embarrassing as it was to admit since he was now dating her. He had been there during the production shots and the various takes across this ancient castle everyone visited to see how filming and acting went over the course of several days when everyone first took on their roles, and it was a surprise at how fast everyone got it all done under the director's planning and direction without rushing. When Ash actually watched it all be put together like so at last, it felt like it was his first time viewing any of it, and the acting of Diantha and others looked so real which surprised him the most. He wasn't alone in viewing this first episode as he was surrounded by all of his friends and family there with him too. Their reactions were about the same sort of awestruck impression at exactly what they would all be privy to before the first proper public release of this series. Of everyone watching, Professor Oak found his voice first.

"My word, that was quite stirring. I've read my share of tales of humans and Pokémon so closely integrated into society with one another, yet this feels more open and honest showing the dynamics of such a unit."

"It feels like they're very deep people just like us," Delia remarked before scritching at Pikachu's chin to his delight. "It really makes you think, you know?"

"Quite right. Pokémon are far more intelligent than we humans often give them credit for, though on the surface many of them appear to be closer to nonhuman animals due to the language barrier between us."

""Animals"," Gladion said as if tasting the unfamiliar word. "I didn't think I'd see anything but Pokémon in this television series. It's almost weird how more common they've been where we've been traveling to see the actors take their shoots."

"Ah, yes—animals besides humans and Pokémon do still exist. Although, their numbers are a cause of much concern as of late given the amount of Pokémon displacing them from their habitats. "Supplanting" may be a more accurate word for the phenomenon to some. Many scientists wager that, in the not-so-distant future from now, the overwhelming amount of Pokémon species may outnumber the amount of nonhuman animals on the planet and drive many species of animals to extinction."

"…Huh."

"Conservation efforts are in overdrive in the affected regions where Pokémon have been discovered, though only time will tell how effective they will be."

"It is not too dissimilar to Aether Foundation's own efforts in creating a safe space for endangered and hurt Pokémon." The voice came from Lusamine behind the group together with her husband Mohn.

"Hope you all are enjoying yourselves here."

"We are, Mom, Dad!" Lillie perked up seeing their parents while Gladion kept a small smile on his face by contrast.

"Good! Just got word from the director and producer that most of the costumes for the cast are all but finished now. You can expect your old man and lady up there on those screens pretty soon."

"Ah, I remember now, you both have roles in this series as well," Professor Oak recalled. "I find it interesting you have the time for this all things considered."

"Well, work was wrapping up in a choice few areas back home," Lusamine continued, "so we decided that a much-needed break from it all was quite overdue. Plus, it should be quite fun to let ourselves slip into these various characters. Ah, the joys of acting and play pretend never really leave you in your adult years, do they?"

"I'm actually quite excited to do this myself," Mohn agreed. "Our specific roles won't be too grand early on from what I know, but still! Sharing this space with so many other folks here has gotten my blood drawn up something fierce!"

"We can't wait to see you on TV Mom and Dad!"

"Shouldn't be too much of a wait longer, Lillie! Just keep your socks on until then; we'd have to see them blown off before we make it into the big screen."

"Will do!"

"So, Ash," Brock began, "Our turn's going to be coming up next—you, me, Misty, and quite a few others. Think you need some rehearsal practice for the filming?"

"Yeah!" Misty interjected. "No winging it for this stuff, Ash. You really need to practice for real to make your scenes come out good. I've got my sisters with me to help with that part, but what about you? Want us to give you some pointers?"

"Um, sure, that'd be cool."

"Good. Follow us, Ash, we'll be going into the costume room first. I think Diantha's already there talking with some of the other actors."

"Oh, she's there too? I mean, yeah, that's fine." Brock raised an eyebrow at Ash's sudden passing of apprehension—or nervousness bubbling up. Pikachu similarly twitched his ears sensing something clearly bothering his partner.

"No need to worry, Ash; we'll help out if there's anything you're really stumped on. Besides, you'll have to act with Diantha pretty soon anyhow—so if you're getting cold feet, now's the perfect time to break that ice with her if you haven't already."

"N-No, I mean…we kind of already broke the ice on how we're going to be doing this acting thing together. I just gotta get my head set and get ready." In truth, Ash wasn't nervous about acting with Diantha or in general, but he was dating her now; it was some time ago when filming had started after they rather privately agreed to start seeing each other, and Ash wasn't sure how to act with his now-girlfriend—older than him at that—around others and keep it natural. Again, he knew what he signed up for with Pikachu joining him in all things like they always did, but Diantha was someone who Ash wanted to make absolutely sure he was nothing less than a good boyfriend for. Just as he, Brock, and Misty got up from their seats to make for the costume room, others shot up right after them.

"Hey, hang on," May started, "we'd like to come too! You know, we've never really…been in the costume room before."

"Uh, sis?" Max began. "I don't know if the director and producer guys will let us in if they're filming right now."

"Oh, they shouldn't be," Lusamine responded. "It's just some organizing and outfitting here and there, nothing major where you can't take a little tour. I'm sure the director and producer wouldn't mind you kids sneaking a few quick peeks."

"Careful, honey; I'm not exactly sure we've got them administrative privileges."

"Please, it'll be just a little stroll. We all have some well-behaved youngsters in our midst, right?"

"Yuh-huh!" Bonnie piped up. "We'll be extra good! Promise!"

"That's what I like to hear! Come, come, the picture's over—now it's time for a little more exploring of some backstage magic." Lusamine led the group out of the viewing room to the costuming area of the estate with nary a hint of concern for breaching of propriety. Delia and Professor Oak could only look on the Aether Foundation president's exuberance.

"She really takes charge, doesn't she?"

"She took charge of the Aether Foundation from her father from what I heard, and she's done an impressive job of maintaining the organization. Her love of Pokémon and her own children made her a natural fit."

"It makes me wonder…how does she do it all?"

"I'm certain she manages just fine with her husband and children at her side."

"And as a reminder," Lusamine started, "any inquiries into Aether Foundation or its personnel may be directed toward me or my husband at the end of the tour so we may keep focus on the sights, hm~?" Caught talking about someone who was listening, red-faced were Delia and Professor Oak even when Lusamine meant no threat. The rest of the way were curious questions about the estate itself which Lusamine and Mohn answered with definitive "I don't know"s to, not being the estate's owners. While most posed questions about the place, Ash posed internal questions to himself about when he next saw Diantha again. His blushes, actual blushes in a long time, did not go unnoticed by Brock and especially not Misty who tried to hide her fuming. Eventually, the costume room was reached with Lusamine announcing their arrival with flourish.

"And here we are!" The announcement brought the others' attentions to the group who entered. The whole of Ash's friends were wowed by the authentic quality of the costumes the actors were getting into and other props kept on hand. "I trust everyone will act their very best here, yes? Me and my husband need to have some words with the designer gentlemen, so try not to do anything we wouldn't!" With Lusamine giving the group of youngsters and the two guardians watching over them free reign to wander about, Ash remained in place when he spotted her; she was trying on a new costume—a sleeveless and backless black dress that flowed and would billow majestically in the wind if caught on a breeze. Her back being bare sent a fire through Ash's face knowing what was underneath that dress—or wasn't in this case, and he turned his eyes until her front would be facing him.

"Pika?"

"It's nothing, buddy, I'm fine." Again, Brock being the observant one without a jealous streak to choke down like Misty had was the one who noticed and approached his friend.

"You sure you're doing okay, Ash?" Ash snapped out of his thoughts with Brock's approach. "I haven't seen you this nervous before."

"Um, I'll be fine, I just…" Brock traced Ash's brief view to Diantha who was still acclimating into her costume with a view of her back in her dress. Brock couldn't help the smile on his face—Ash Ketchum was being bashful around the fairer sex. Brock couldn't remember the last time he ever saw Ash look any girl's way except for that one student they met years back at the beginning of their journey—Giselle, was it? Misty for her part was less amused and felt a bit of her blood steadily boil.

"Is that what you're worried about? Your biggest co-star wearing a pretty dress?"

"Brock…!"

"I'm just messing with you Ash. Still, I can give you some advice on how to work with someone like Diantha. Now, the first thing you do when you're with her, just the two of you, is—"

"No you don't, Casanova." Before Brock could say more, an ear of his was snatched up by the Officer Jenny of Viridian City, unamused, with its Nurse Joy and Celadon City's Erika in tow pitying the pinch pressure on Brock. Ash and Pikachu winced from the sight with Misty completely unsympathetic to Brock's routine checking. "You have some acting practice to work in yourself right now with your "lovely three wives", no slacking off to give bad flirting advice."

"Owowowow…! I was going to give him advice on acting! I swear!"

"Yeah, yeah, now come on." Pulled away before he could say more, Brock could only apologize Ash being left on his own. Only then did Misty pull up to Ash and observe Brock's predicament.

"I knew something was missing in all this," she dryly remarked. "Someone's gotta pull the plug on Brock's Romeo stunts." Still seeing Diantha occupied with conversation beyond them, Misty looked to have some choice words with Ash. "Ash…I'm going to be completely honest: I had NO idea you were going to join us in this at first; all the directors knew was that they wanted the newest big champion of the regions but didn't know much beyond that themselves. I guess that's why they were surprised like everyone else when you showed up."

"Really?"

"Yup. Also, since you're in this too, I…" Misty spared one last look at Diantha still engrossed in conversation past them before dropping to a whisper. "Look, just follow me, we can…talk more there."

"Um, sure, okay."

"Ash?"

Dang it…! There it was, the waves receding gone before Misty could wet her toes making a move. Diantha just finished her conversation and had noticed Ash, making her way to him now with Gardevoir, Ash's mother Delia with Professor Oak and Gary, and another woman and man along with the Rhondshrym men. So much for Misty's one-on-one with Ash before the big wigs needed him more than his little gym leader friend.

"Ah, Misty from Cerulean as well, is it? Good afternoon, you two. We were all just talking about you, Ash."

"You were?"

"Indeed." The other woman, fair complexion and short auburn hair flipped up at the edges, stepped forward to introduce herself.

"Hello there, Mr. Ketchum," she began. "I am Miss Kamijou Emiko, but just Emiko is fine. I believe I am to play the role of your mother in this work."

"You are?"

"Yes. I spoke with your mother and the professor here on what an honor it is for me to work alongside you, young man. I have my own son back home as well, so I shall endeavor to treat you no less than my own while we are here together." The woman bowed in respect, and Ash followed her lead in kind rather than handshake with his own mother present with Pikachu nodding after Ash's cue. Misty caught one look at her and lingered a little too long at just below the woman's neck for her liking before she went to herself, Yep, this is happening. She counted on seeing Ash yet again enveloped in a positively smothering hug by some other boy's mother before long. The actress stepping aside, the man in the group, already in full costume save a helmet, made to greet Ash next.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ketchum," he spoke. "I'm betting this is your first real gig in the movie business, huh?"

"That's right."

"I see, I see. Poetic, actually. This is in fact my last role before I retire. The Rhondshryms here asked for my participation, and if you ask me? There's no better filming firm to end your career with than the Rhondshryms. Shame I hadn't met them sooner, but better late than never."

"Ash," Diantha started, "this man here is an old colleague of mine, Nobuhisa Osamu."

""Old" colleague, eh? Funny way of saying "rival", Miss "three years junior" Anthe?"

"Hush, you. *ahem* Excuse me, Ash—"classroom colleague" is more accurate. And one word of our classroom days, I have my champion team of Pokémon on me."

"Enticing, but I'll pass. Anyways, you might recognize me from a few films starring as a certain historical "demon warlord". I'll be channeling that into my lines and actions in rehearsal, but let me warn you: I can get pretty intense to put it mildly."

"Great! I can't wait to start practice!"

"Such is precisely why we are here, Master Ketchum," the junior Rhondshrym announced. "Filming will be underway for your parts very soon, so your arrival here is most fortuitous indeed."

"Wait, already?"

"Of course, Ash," Professor Oak confirmed. "Miss Diantha's part done, it's your turn to start with the process."

"Remember, Ash," Delia began, "treat this with the utmost respect going in and coming from the production. Of course, we'll all be watching you rehearse and perform too, so no need to worry about us not turning up for your big moment."

"Oh, uh, sure, Mom…" Misty, watching this unfold, figured it would be better to try again when she next had time to just her Ash. She figured now was her cue to give Ash some space with the others.

"Sounds fun," she announced. "Guess I'll just catch you later, Ash."

"You're leaving? But, what about—"

"Later, Ash. We've got our own practice to get to right now, so we'll talk more later, okay?"

"Alright, if you're sure." With that, Misty took her leave and made for her sisters on the other side of the costuming room. Delia giggled at Misty and Ash's interacting.

"Don't worry, sweetie—I know you and her are such good friends, and you'll have all the time in the world to catch up soon."

"If you say so, Mom." Gary, not as dense as his friend Ash, picked up on how quick Misty was to leave once the conversation shifted to rehearsal.

"Kind of clipped way she just took off, though. Think she's mad at you for something, Ash?"

"Wh-What do you mean? What did I do?"

"Beats me. Anyways, I peeked your getup for your first episode, and, heh…*whistle* it tracks with you a lot."

"Really? Man, now you get me excited! Are we gonna start right now?"

[INDEED.] the elder Rhondshrym spoke. [WE SHALL FIT. YOUR COSTUME. ON YOU. MOMENTARILY.]

"Do I have to just slip it on?"

[IT IS. A FULL. OUTFIT. COMPLETE WITH. UNDERGARMENTS. WE ARE WAITING. FOR CONFIRMATION. OF THEIR COMPLETION.]

"Wait…that means I have to change my underwear too? That's weird, I didn't think anyone would have to see…my…" It dawned on Ash he didn't need to change his underwear unless they were dirty if they would stay under his clothes when shooting, but putting on different underwear meant that—

Everyone's going to see my underwear. Ash suddenly felt the need to close his legs together and cover himself with his hands despite being fully dressed while everything around his face burned. Naturally, Pikachu was confused by the move and looked at Ash wondering if he was okay.

"Whoa ha hah, uh…how long did you say they were taking to make them?"

"A little too late to be camera shy, Ash," Gary teased. "Besides, fair's fair—your leading lady has to get undressed for the big screen, so do you."

"Did that happen in the first episode, though?"

"You were watching, weren't you? Shouldn't you know whether your biggest co-star shed some layers for the camera?"

"That's quite enough, you two. Ash, if you feel uncomfortable, we can help walk you through it for the filming portions of such scenes. I promise, no one here will embarrass or make fun of you for it."

"…Thanks, Mom. And…yeah, if Diantha's taking her clothes off for filming, then I wanna make her feel like…um, well, she can…"

Darn it…! Say something, Ash…! Everyone, Diantha especially, saw how Ash struggled to say what he wanted to say next. Thanks to Gardevoir signaling to her telepathically, Diantha got a summation of what Ash meant, and she felt herself smiling a little for it knowing he wanted to put his best foot into this relationship with her. Still, she didn't cut him off or interject before him, knowing he wanted to say it himself—even if he would leave out the part of being her boyfriend specifically.

"I want to make it fair for both of us going into this. If you're comfortable enough doing this, then I want to do this with too—not just for everyone watching us and expecting a good, real performance…but for you too and meet you halfway. I want you to feel…alright going into this as…partners." Ash couldn't have picked a more charged word just short of anything explicitly confirming if he tried. It took great effort out of him to sort what he felt and put it into words, too, as his face lit up a bright pink. Bless his complete sincerity, it dusted Diantha's cheeks a faint rose in turn, a rarity nowadays when it wasn't Gardevoir doing that to her. She felt it right to take his hands into hers to show her appreciating his gesture.

"I would love that, Ash. We'll support and meet each other halfway, together as equal partners in this."

"Thanks…" Ash distinctly noticed the soft way Diantha's hands felt against his, and he realized he was wearing his fingerless gloves as usual. Boldness seized him, slowly but gently removing his hands from Diantha's before removing his gloves one by one. Then, with them off, he tried again to hold Diantha's hands in his. The difference was much greater being barehanded, and Diantha felt it too. Their hands without anything in the way of each other could feel one another's texture in their entirety; Ash felt how much care Diantha out into her hands to make them soft yet firm in their hold underneath—Diantha immediately noticing the way Ash's hands were surprisingly calloused for his age from all the physical activity he did if only lightly so yet still took her hands into his with the utmost gentility and strength. The touch of each other's skin so direct on one another left both in a state of small shock that held them for a few seconds longer—much longer to Ash and Diantha themselves...

...

These are the hands of a Pokémon Master…His hands...

...

These are...my girlfriend's hands... Diantha's hands...

...

...They soon pulled away with everyone else trying to make sense of the moment from the mothers recognizing a true tender connection having just formed to the older men already seeing the sparks start to fly in the two's eyes. The Rhondshrym men both were surprised by it as well, the junior son not expecting such developments to form so fast with the elderly father etching the aura of the two into his mind; despite the circumstances, it seemed fate had always conspired for these two to come together. Feeling the hand of destiny take him, he resolved to see this project through, not just for himself, his son, his departed moon and star, and all those who participated, but also for the two stars standing before him for however long he had left to live…