Young Writers Society

Armaea opened her eyes, and looked about the Green Room; She lay nude in grass, as willows swayed in the artificial breeze, the sun's rays bathing her in much needed sustenance and unadulterated by an atmosphere. Her hair, verdant green and as long as her own body, was warm from the sunlight. Her purple eyes adjusted to the light quickly, the lenses and shutters well lubricated.

She looked out and saw the pale blue orb of planet Alnora below her, resplendent with swirling white clouds, a vast, unbroken ocean, and one titanic continent, named after the planet on which it lay. In the east (though up here, directions such as north, south, east or west were meaningless), city lights twinkled through a blanket of darkness.

Beyond was the darkness of the unknown, an infinite void full of infinite matter.

She guessed at least four years had passed since she last saw the world through waking eyes, shortly after the Khagilosi Nations had signed the treaty at Rodrigr. Or perhaps some time after that. Some adjustments would have to be made, regardless.

She couldn't remember what she had been thinking about; A shred of a memory, one moment in a scatter shot of distorted images here, patches of sound there- Then gone forever, far beyond reach.

"Your Grace, the Assembly awaits your word, as requested."

Armaea turned to Kyo Moreno. Kyo was a broad shouldered, thin man in a bowler hat and dark eyes, who had doffed his hat and held the position as he spoke. It was a salute the mortal world had adopted after learning of her power; They bent, with their skulls pointed in her direction. Perhaps it was a gesture of submission and loyalty, but Armaea still found it strange.

However, Kyo knew when to keep it curt and to the point; He had nothing to hide, so he never really needed to be searched. He only answered to one person, and that was her. He was receptive to telepathy, but couldn't produce it, so he wasn't much of a spy, in any case.

"Good, I will see them shortly. Prepare the elevator."

Kyo took another curt bow. Her handmaidens appeared from behind him and brought her something more befitting for the public. They were timid and spoke little, only bowing their heads reverently when they left.

***

"Are you nervous?"

The elevator chimed, and an amicable female voice told them they were on the 90th floor now, rapidly approaching 100. The Tower of Assembly stood at 380 meters, easily dwarfing all other constructs in the 2nd tier, which Delis saw laid out before him like a map. He could see the other 5 tiers of the city, each doubling in size until the seventh tier sprawled beyond the horizon.

Warrant Officer Delis Engham lifted his collar a little, letting some body heat escape. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." The scars on his temple and brow stung, the pain slightly sharpening his senses.

He studied himself in the glass window of the elevator; Amber eyes stared back at him from a dark brown face, his normally wiry black hair shaved down to a neat one and a half inches. He wondered if he was truly ready, truly worthy of the honor about to be bestowed upon him.

"Heh. Good. You're a smart one. Just breathe, man. You'll do great."

He glanced at Galvin, his brother-in-law. Galvin walked on crutches, his leg having been amputated from the knee down. He grinned and punched Delis' arm comradely.

"Hey, at least you can buy me a new leg."

"Definitely."

The elevator dinged. "You have arrived on the 100th floor."

Delis walked into the Hall of Assembly, and marveled; He had harbored preconceived notions of this moment, but none of them stood up to the real thing.

The Hall was a vast, circular room, virtually at the roof of the world, fifteen meters at its widest, and twenty at its tallest, and enameled in a bright opalescent alloy, permeated here and there with inlaid ribbons of many colors.

The Hall was lit by the bright, open sky, separating the Assembly from high-altitude winds and literal thin air by a layer of smooth, unmarred glass. There were three windows; Two sixteen meter panes surrounded the Hall in a perforated circle, the view of the city peppered here and there with a wisp of cloud. The third window was the icon of the Firstborn, letting in revealing, radiant sunlight. Despite this, the Hall was rather cool, almost chilled.

The Throne was the first thing Delis had seen upon walking in, due to this trick of the light; It was stark white and at its highest stood nine feet; It was simple, and elegant, eschewing all manner of adornment save for the cherry blossom trees and other assortments of flowering plants surrounding it. It bespoke wisdom, beauty, and power from ages long before antiquity.

The five hundred and nineteen people sat in waiting, a placard set in front of each one of them, identifying their status and occupation. They were all representatives of the ten Great nations and the rulings within, and some from isolated civilizations, there to observe rulings until later coming into the fold. They were all sectioned according to their nation, with their Paramount seated in the front row. There were Ten Paramounts, each one well known enough to be recognized at once.

In the floor lay an ancient carving of the continent of Alnora, which extended from the southern jungles and deserts of Khagilos, to the polar regions of Borealis in the North; Meren stood to the West, and Tellaria in the farthest East.

Herald Dane, Paramount of Galthir and Warden of Ascension, sat directly before the throne, as did the representatives of the Heartland. He was a tall, gaunt man, with thin white hair and a beard to match. He was clad in a black suit and tie that seemed merely to hang off his form, like he was a coat hanger or scarecrow. His grey eyes were intent and missed little, even at an age where most men would consider resigning. He was serving his fourth term, and was well supported enough for a fifth, if he didn't keel over and die first. Not likely.

To his left sat Archduke Reed Lowen, Paramount of South Aradis, a portly man in a blue suit and white sash, with a matching top hat, who seemed to be sweating profusely.

Zelth Robran, Paramount of North Aradis, was sleek and cultured looking, with a crop of black hair peppered silver. He sat calmly with his hands clasped on the table, conferring in an inaudible voice with one of his secretaries. He smiled for a photo, with his hand over his heart.

Andali Red-Tree, of Meren, an elderly woman in a fierce red dress contrasting her snow white hair, tied into a neat bun.

Fjäll Baden, Paramount of Frostcrown, was a black-furred bear-kin, wearing a custom grey suit matching his stature, which was nothing short of a miracle of craftmanship; His ears sat at default up position, a look of austerity in his narrowed eyes. The pocks of pink scar tissue blemishing his muzzle showed he wasn't a stranger to struggle, or adversity.

Sir Weymin of the Pentic Ward was Belas' Paramount; tall, with locks of red hair falling in waves behind his neck and a copper beard, now growing strands of white here and there. He wore an impeccable suit of a material unknown to Delis; It seemed almost to draw attention to itself, taking in light.

He tore his stare away from Sir Weymin, before he got attention of his own.

To the right of Herald Dane sat four other Paramounts.

Lord Hais Fuledia, Paramount of Tellaria, the most populous nation in Alnora, was a squat, round man, with jowls to rival a dog's, and wispy strands of grey hair falling from a shiny bald pate. He wore a simple black suit, and ticked here and there on the granite with an impatient fingernail.

Delis noticed an empty seat behind Fuledia; The Mayors, who usually represented the Nation behind the Paramount, were missing a man; The placard read Eld Siegfried, Mayor of Marta. A few of the Mayors looked as if they might be sick, while others simply stared into space. Delis suddenly felt his stomach drop, though he was unsure why.

Next to Hais Fuledia were Anbal Zurathian, Paramount of Cruxias, Manaekri Gomsula, Paramount of Kasal, and Repsin Hamarthy, Chairman of the Alnoric Mercenary Network, or A.M.N for short.

The Paramounts of Kasal and Cruxias peered over the hall through a grainy, grey-green vignette, a long range telecommunication device set up where they would be typically sitting. Anbal Zurathian fidgeted with his crazy white hair, readjusted his spectacles; Manaekri Gomsula stood almost full-body in the frame, wearing luxurious multi-colored robes, a sash bearing the crest of his house. He was standing halfway into a shadow of some sort, showing little of his face.

Repsin Hamarthy, a rugged, tired looking man with a simple vest and shirt combo, leaned back in his chair. His black hair was cut short, a band of grey hair around his temples. Repsin was not ruler of any one land; However, his agents were everywhere, even in less populated areas like Nanbyr or Isilien. His headquarters was located somewhere in the vast Tellarian sea to the east, on a small chain known as the Panyr Islands.

Rumor had it he possessed more money than all of the other nine Paramounts put together, though it was always in a constant state of flux; What would normally be considered revenue for the A.M.N. was constantly being pushed outwards to build important institutions such as schools, hospitals, and civilian training programs. Repsin was often accused of squeezing money out of any terrible situation he could find, though no-one could say he didn't put it to good use.

Delis took his place among five others awaiting their beckoning. Two of them were young.

A girl, with short black hair, a blue hairpin separating her bangs, and a vacant expression in her green eyes; From her file, Delis knew that her name was Eris Dobari. She was the only one there who did not wear a service uniform; She stood apart in an alabaster button-up shirt with a black tie and grey slacks. She looked like a detective from a pulp novel.

Next to her was a tall, wiry twenty-something with long blonde hair, and a curiously odd-colored hand... Delis heard a whirring sound, and turned to see that the prosthetic arm had spun out of the base built around his scapula, free of normal-day restraints such as skin and sinew. It had done a full revolution in a second, tearing the poor guy's sleeve right off. He looked miserable.

Delis stored this in memory, thinking he'd tell Galvin later about some of the irregularities those with prosthetics often encountered. Hopefully, whatever doctor they could afford was a good one.

The other three were tall, hard looking men, with arms like barrels and a chest like... a chest, to be precise. They were triplets, with pale blonde hair and two blue-green eyes, while the third's were brown. Their jaws were razor straight and thick, and their necks bulged with muscle. They stared straight ahead at the throne, their arms crossed behind their back. Delis knew their names were Odrick, Austrick, and Aulick Tormetheon, though he couldn't tell them apart even through a microscope. He hoped it wouldn't become too much of an issue.

He patted the kid on his left shoulder assuredly. "You're a strong guy for choosing to get that thing. The Queen recognizes that in you."

The youth smiled, and bowed his head. "Yes sir, Warrant Officer, Sir."

"What's your name, son?"

"Reynik. Hust Reynik. Sir."

Delis' brows knitted in surprise. "Reynick? The Hust Reynik?"

"In the flesh, Sir."

"I've heard some stories about you, Mr. Reynick."

His face turned as blank as a slate. "Hopefully they left out that bit about the brothels."

Delis grinned. "I've heard those stories too, unfortunately." Reynik became glum again.

Eris Dobari glanced at him, her expression vacant.

"Hello, Miss Dobari. I hope you're ready for a big change." He offered his hand to shake.

Her gaze was unsettling, though he could not pinpoint why. "Hello, Mr. Engham. I look forward to working with you."

"The feeling is mutual." He bowed, and turned to greet the triplets.

Their reaction to his presence was much more fitting to his expectations. Swiftly, they snapped to attention at the same time, as if they were of one mind and body, which wasn't entirely far from the truth. "Good afternoon, Warrant Officer Delis Engham, Sir!" Their voices were exactly the same.

"Good afternoon, fellas. At ease." They returned to their normal stance, and eyed him with respect, and anticipation of his words. However, at this moment, he didn't have a whole lot to offer them. "Did you boys find the place alright?"

"Oh yeah. Pretty hard to miss the Tower of Assembly." Austrick said.

"I gotta say, it's pretty swell we get to meet the legendary Tianlong pilot who single-handedly saved Cradle." Aulick bowed; Delis was barely at level with his chest.

"No, no," Delis waved it off. "I really had very little to do with it."

"No, seriously, sir. We owe you our lives for what you did." Odrick bowed, and then the other two followed suit. "You inspired us to join the military and become M.A.S. pilots. We're just grateful we're getting the chance to say thank you."

"Wow... I... Uh... Don't know what to say, guys. I'm very humbled." Delis bowed in return. "I always just thought I was just a regular jarhead."

"Well, we're jarheads right with you." Aulick said.

"Yeah. We'll follow you into hell, man." Austrick agreed.

"Thank you, fellas. I'm truly honored."

A sudden noise startled him, as sudden noises were wont to do; the powerful, dreadful notes of The Queen Descended, the anthem of the Galthirian capital, came though speakers hidden somewhere in the skybox.

"All rise in the presence of Her Grace, Queen Armaea Tillarand, Last of the Makers and High Ruler of the Realm of Alnora."

The room rose and broke into applause.

Delis felt the power of command rise in his vocal cords. "Atten-hut!"

The three behind him, and two behind them, snapped to attention. There was something off about this file... Weren't there seven to be knighted by the Queen today?

Delis turned to see a girl with flowing orange hair and wide brown eyes running to the file, hopping on one leg and forcing a shoe onto her foot. "I'm sorry I'm late! Oh gods..."

Delis stepped out of rank and walked to the girl, offering his shoulder for support. She looked into his eyes and recoiled.

"Oh! You're... Warrant Officer Delis Engham! I'm so sorry-"

He smiled his most frightening smile, one he served primarily for his subordinates; petulant cadets or troublesome officers alike, the result was usually the desired one.

"Just Mr. Engham here, Miss...?"

She seemed to wince imperceptibly. "Acolyse. Risa Acolyse."

"Good. Risa, please proceed to stand at attention in the proper formation, else I'll have to explain to the Queen what's going on here."

She suppressed a squeal and stood in the file next to one of the triplets, who stood almost three feet above her; He glanced down at her, then back at the throne.

Green. Gods be good, at least she's the Queen's favorite color. He bit back a sardonic smile.

As Delis settled into his position, he saw the Queen and several armed bodyguards approach from the left corner of the room, seemingly from nowhere.

Queen Armaea Tillarand was clad in a simple, but elegant full sleeved evening dress, colored off white or light grey. The skirts trailed along three feet behind her. Her long, green hair flowed out breezily under a pale gold diadem of wrought metal and alloy; A single, white jewel glistened in the center. Her amethyst eyes simply trailed the floor as she walked.

She took her place upon the throne, sitting with her back flat against the lining of the chair and her legs planted firmly on the ground. She raised a hand gently. "Be seated."

Her voice carried across the room as if it were on a microphone, mastery of command almost tangible in those two words.

The Assembly sat, except for Delis' seven, and the other Royal Guards. They watched the Assembly through impassive white masks, the eyes black and unreadable, while their fingers were planted flat against the trigger guards of their G-26 rifles; fully automatic, as opposed to the single-fire marksman model that was standard issue to most armed forces throughout the realm.

"Lord Dane, the time since we last spoke," Queen Armaea intoned.

"Three years, ten months, and fifteen days, Your Grace." Herald Dane bowed curtly.

"Thank you. According to Royal sources, the three years, ten months, and fifteen days have been good," She said, scanning the room with a powerful even gaze. "Due to the Recovery Act of 323, the port cities of Meren are free to take sail once again. New Lincera is nearing completion, and international travel is now a safe and viable option for migrant workers."

The Assembly clapped, though Hais Fuledia's nose wrinkled slightly as if he had smelled something foul.

"Numerous Khagilosi and Isilienate... factions, have sworn oaths to the Act, and cast their weapons down in accordance with the Union. Not all, true, but even the most war-like houses will come into the fold some day soon. These are but a few of the blessings yet to come. Peace... is just through the next door."

Another round of applause; Delis noticed most of the people clapping were not, in fact, members belonging to the ethnicities common to Khagilos and Isilien. The few lions and wolves representing their houses and tribes looked pissed. Civil, for them at least, but pissed.

"Yet, it has come to my attention that trials still await us, tests of our ability to move forward. The road to the future is paved with adversity, but we most always keep

striving towards the end."

The Assembly applauded once more, the last two words resonating in Delis' mind.

"Let us proceed."

Hais Fuledia cleared his throat and spoke, his voice sounding as if it had been smothered in gravel. "If it please your grace, the matter concerning the Mayor of Marta, requires your word."

The Queen turned a lidded gaze towards him. "Yes. The situation in Marta... What has happened there?"

Hans Fuledia cleared his throat. "At approximately 0900 hours, I received an urgent call from Commissioner Lorik Renfield, of Marta. Eld Siegfried's estate is... Well, I suppose I'd better show you."

He nodded at a team of engineers waiting nearby; They rolled out a telescreen, and left it in full view of the throne, and the ten great nation's representatives. It came on, and they beheld a smoking ruin in a series of images, a mansion razed almost entirely to the foundation. Debris lay blackened in the grass and the deep gouges and trenches dug into the pavement and lawn.

There were gasps among the Assembly. Delis strained his eyes at the images, trying to take in details. The house was a blackened ruin, leaving only steel beams and charred tile. This was either a fuel-fed fire, or the work of a sorcerer. Sorcerers existed everywhere, in every country. It made finding the right one about as easy as finding anybody else with no fingerprint evidence, witnesses, or even a name. They did what they damn well pleased.

Then he noticed what everyone had been looking at; The gouges in the earth were oddly familiar looking, and Delis knew why; One of them was in the shape of a human hand, and large enough to grip the man next to it by his chest, and squeeze him in two. There were the twisted remains of an automobile, smashed into a twenty foot long imprint curiously shaped like a person.

Reed Lowen looked as if he were going to be sick. "By the Gods..."

"We have not encountered such weaponry, or such abilities of the person capable of this kind of... Destruction." Hais Fuledia said, wiping his brow with a handkerchief.

The Queen austere eyes scanned the Assembly, seeming to pause and take in every face before moving on to the next. "Who last spoke with Sir Eld Siegfried?

Repsin Hamarthy raised his hand, a lit cigarette locked in between index and ring. The Assembly gawked, and a grunt of disgust could be heard here and there. "Your Grace, I personally spoke with the Mayor, over the phone. I believe it was about two weeks ago." His voice was rough, having struggled tooth and nail to escape the tar pit that was his lungs. Delis knew the man could shout down a banshee if he needed to, though.

If Armaea was displeased by Repsin's blatant informality, it didn't show on her face. "And what did you talk about?"

He took another drag. "He seemed a little... Not there. He said something about the cartels getting bolder, said he was working around the clock on this big case. I offered him help; he said he could use the help but only from agents he could trust. I ran backgrounds on a few I thought would be a good fit, found one I liked best, and sent him down from Razgreth."

"And the agent, Sir Hamarthy? His name."

"Munos Aegrin. He's a tough son of a bitch, fought in the Battle of Cradle, matter of fact. Thought he'd get along with Old Siegfried."

"And did he get to Marta? Has he anything to report?"

"Thing is, Your Grace... He never got to Marta. Says somebody knocked him out, and stole his clothes... Didn't even take his gun, his suitcase, nor even his money... Just his clothes. He called me yesterday from the hospital."

"Preposterous!" Herald Dane slammed his gnarled hands upon the desk.

The Queen raised a slender eyebrow at Repsin. Zelth Robran cleared his throat.

"It is not unlikely, Your Grace. It is a common tactic to take one's uniform in an attempt to get closer to the desired target. That is... Your agents wear uniforms, do they not, Mr. Hamarthy?"

"Uhh..." He scratched his head. "Not really. Mostly whatever's comfortable and easy to move in, and baggy enough to maybe wear armor under there. So no."

The Assembly started to boil into angry accusations and insults, when the Queen's voice boomed over the hall. "Enough! Are there any possible suspects? Were there witnesses?"

Delis realized she was asking the room at large. Somewhere in the throng of representatives, who all had considerable networks of resources of their own, she would glean an answer. Every person knows something important, at one point in time.

Repsin put out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray set out for him on the immaculate white desk at which he sat. He poured himself a glass of black-label in a small glass cup, and the Queen watched him like a hawk. "From what the good Mayor told me, I deduced he let the majority of his staff go six or seven months ago. Said he couldn't trust anyone as far as he could kick 'em. Over the course of a few weeks he fired his maid, his house guard, his accountant, even stopped calling his physician, and had only spoken to his officials over phone. As far as I know, he's put more gangs and mobsters away than any of the top five agents I've got. Maybe they were starting to retaliate in a very personal way. He kept a butler around though... Said his name was Sparrow, or some sort of bird name. He has one daughter, I believe... Angela. Ransoming comes to mind. All that jazz. They're pretty brazen over there in Tellaria... Ain't they, Fuledia?"

Anbal Zurathian adjusted his glasses once more. "He isn't wrong, Hais."

Fuledia scowled at the telescreen. "You shut your mouth."

"That does not explain the house." Fjall's voice boomed softly across the hall. "That doesn't explain the weaponry used there. You all saw it."

"Mechs?" Repsin shrugged. "Some of the newer models have really articulate hands."

Manaekri Gomsula's deep, sultry voice came through the telescreen, distorted somewhat from the distance. "I can assure you, no models of ours would leave anything like that behind. And I can guarantee you, none of Hais' baseborn cockroaches could afford even one."

"This is no time for guesswork. We must learn the truth." Andali Red-Tree turned to the other Paramounts, her gaze stern and solemn. "An attack on Eld Siegfried is an attack on all of us."

The Queen opened her eyes from a moment of deep stillness. "What are the whereabouts of Angela Siegfried and this butler?"

Hais Fuledia tore his glare away from Repsin. "Unknown. We recovered 11 bodies... All of them were Galthirian soldiers, though from what division we cannot say. Three of them were found dead in Marta, in a rental car. We suspect they were ambushed before they could reach for their weapons; One of them had apparently died reaching for his seatbelt. At the manor, we found eight; one killed from a gunshot wound to the head. He was found under a hedge on the side of a road. Six others were found in the backyard by the gazebo; though obviously killed by some sort of impalement, no evidence comes up supporting anything else. No other traces on their bodies exist. Nothing turned up in the remains of their cars, either."

The slideshow revealed a few different soldiers on the autopsy table, written labels pointing out the puncture wounds on their upper bodies. Members of the Assembly gasped and murmured. Delis couldn't help but notice how clean the wounds were.

Sir Weymin made a sound, somewhat like an mm-hm.

Queen Armaea turned her head to look at Weymin. "Do you know something of this, Sir Weymin?"

"Yes, in fact I do, Your Grace." He stood, smiled and bowed, and turned to look at the other Paramounts. "Can you think of any sort of weapon that doesn't leave some sort of trace? I can't think of any, truth be told. A gun... leaves behind gunpowder residue. A knife usually leaves behind torn flesh, unless it is are exceptionally sharp. Now... Ice... What is there to find after the fact? Water, mixed in with the blood?"

Andali Red-Tree narrowed her eyes, seeming to take his meaning. "You are saying they were killed with some sort of ice magic?"

"I would know. It's a technique recognized by many sorcerers and scholars of my order, though it's practitioners are a... Chosen few."

"Those of your House. House Acolyse." The Queen said.

Weymin Acolyse smiled sadly. "That is correct, your grace." Murmuring washed over the Assembly like an ocean tide. "You will find that Eld Siegfried's butler was only using an alias... His real name is Aurin Acolyse, my nephew."

When it came time for the ceremony, The Queen favored the Seven with a friendly and benevolent expression. "I thank you for making it to the Assembly, Warrant Officer Engham."

Delis knelt, his hand over his heart. "I am honored, Your Grace."

"Rise, and come to stand before me."

He did as she bid, rising from his knee and walked until he was close enough to the Queen to smell her; She smelled like sunshine, and green grass, and of the sea.

"You may kneel."

He did so, and with one look at the Queen noticed she was standing over him now. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I, Queen Armaea Tillarand, Last of the Firstborn, and Ruler of the Ten Nations of Alnora, hereby appoint you to the rank of Chevalier, with all rights and assets provided in name. You answer to none but I, and Kyo Moreno, steward of the realm. Do you accept?"

"With honor, Your Grace."

She produced a small metal brooch, a barren tree made of cut Xaeoniom, stars hanging like fruit in its boughs. Armaea clasped it upon the lapel of his dress uniform.

"I task you with finding who is responsible for this attack, to learn the whereabouts of Angela Siegfried, and bring whoever is responsible for this to justice. Do you accept?"

"Gladly, Your Grace."

"Good. You others, come to stand before me."

Standing before the Queen, Delis watched as the others approached, Risa Acolyse seeming nervous most of all. One by one she knighted them, dubbing each the title of Chevalier and providing them their missive, and providing them their brooch.

The Assembly clapped with vigor with each knighting, though Weymin's expression stayed neutral when it came time for Risa to be knighted.