Some time in the distant future...
In the city of Segeno, it's eat or be eaten. Someone has to rule the masses. A boy has lost his birthright. His parents killed. Dead and gone. A girl has lost her father. She means nothing to him now.
The city of...
"You what?" A man cloaked in white rose from a large, alabaster throne and glared at a guard who shook in his own armor. He moved not from his throne, but stood rigidly, as if ready to take flight at a moment's notice. Light filtered through the blue stained glass of the throne room and hit the man's face in peacock colors as the fabric of his robes settled at his feet. His words had bounced around the stone room and now that the echo had settled, the guard gained the courage to speak again.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"In the Atsa district," the guard choked. He nervously tugged at the blue tunic underneath his silvered armor. "We were attacked."
"You're telling me that little brat took out two of my Elite Guards?"
"N-No, sir. We suspect it was The King."
The man at the throne sunk slowly into his chair, faded eyelashes guarding his ocean eyes from fleeting light. "My entire army is a joke."
"You don't understand, sir!" Another guard stepped forward into the light from the windows. Someone next to him, a man in scarred armor with a marred face, scoffed and folded his hands behind his back. The guard continued, "It was a bloodbath. He has outmaneuvered us at every turn while we've been trying to apprehend him. He's skilled and—"
"And you all are trained to be Elites! I do not spend thirty percent of the city's budget to train you all for this kind of result. Train your men. Train them hard and do better." The man in white waved a hand at him, disgust on his face. "Get out of my sight."
As the guards left, followed by the man in marred armor, a cough echoed about the room.
"Commander Crevan."
Commander Crevan, whose battered armor caught the light of dim electric lamps that flanked the doorway, turned slowly as his subordinates left the room. He clicked the metal heels of his boots together and bowed stiffly, practiced and precise. "Yes, my Sovereign?"
"Put all guards on high alert," the Sovereign continued. He wove his fingers through the light coming into the window as he spoke, his tight lips a reflection of his disappointment. "If anyone even thinks they see the little twit, tell them to fire at will. Attack, even if he seems unarmed. Attack even if it's not him! Just kill the damn kid. He threatens my whole operation. If they're right, and he's working with The King now... you will need to be cautious. Do not underestimate him."
"Yes, sir."
With another tap of his boots, Commander Crevan dismissed himself and the grand glass doors to the throne room closed with a soft click. After all was quiet for a moment, the Sovereign sighed and sunk into his chair, stress weighing heavy on his shoulders. He pushed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and did not look up when the muted tap of footsteps approached him.
"Daddy?"
A loud sigh left the Sovereign's lips. It was a sigh of impatience. "Yes, darling?"
"Will everything be fine after you get rid of him? The boy?"
"Everything will be perfect. He is the last heir to the throne, so while he is in exile or dead, I can keep my place and you will be next in line."
His daughter nodded, her resolute, blue eyes tracing her father's face for answers. With a huff, she sat down in a pile of frills and skirts to continue to play with a doll. The doll's porcelain feet tapped against the marble as she danced across the floor.
"Don't you have something else to do?" her father asked.
"Oh, I—"
"And aren't you a little old for dolls, now? You just turned thirteen."
"I'm... I'm sorry, Daddy."
The Sovereign looked at her as if he was picking apart every facet of her face with judgement. "All will be well. Once Terran La'Hall is dead, everything... will be well."
"Then you'll spend time with me?"
"Yes," he huffed, sarcasm heavy on his words. "I'll play with you. Go bother Esmond. I don't have time for you."
The girl frowned. Master Esmond meant lessons, and lessons meant Economics. She twirled her blond hair, the only thing her father liked about her, in one of her fingers. She stood, bowed politely to the Sovereign, and made her way to the palace elevator. A boy just older than her pulled the lever after she informed him of her destination, and the compartment went whirring up toward the higher levels of the palace. Her frilly white dress rustled against the scratchy, sheer tights that covered her legs as she twirled it impatiently. Once the elevator doors opened and she had stepped free, out of sight and out of mind, she smiled at her little doll, a small doll with skin lighter than hers and a face that had a small black tear on its cheek. "Did you hear, Theophilia? He finally said he'll spend time with me."
