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It was time, her meeting with King Ortho Dexan was upon her and she was ready to meet this chaotic king who had sent his kingdom into a downward spiral. She followed Alice along the opulent halls of the castle, Venallia walking next to her.

They passed countless portraits and tapestries, innumerable artifacts, suits of armor, and weapons that hung on the wall. Massive chandeliers made of gold, silver, platinum, and many more precious metals dangled from the ceiling, used only as decoration. Massive glass windows that spanned entire hallways allowed the palace to be flooded with natural light, the darker areas lit with floating mage lights that twinkled like tiny stars. She couldn't help but be a bit surprised the King hadn't upgraded to that new electricity the dwarves had developed, but perhaps he wasn't as rich as she originally thought.

However, the farther they went into the castle, going up elevators and down hallway after hallway, Myrra's theory was quickly dashed to pieces. It only kept getting fancier and fancier, richer and richer. It felt like the palace was decorated simply to show off the King's sheer amount of wealth, as if to gloat about how much better he was than everyone else. She found it sickening, headache inducing, and just downright ugly. Then again, she was an Elf, her people found simpler, more nature-oriented decorations and designs much more appealing than such grand displays like these. That's not to say her aunt's palace in Iysngrad wasn't a display of wealth and power, it was just displayed much more subtly, in a less invasive and in-your-face kind of way.

It wasn't long before Alice brought them to a stop in front of a set of massive wooden doors that no doubt led to the King's throne room. Four heavily armored men stood guard, two on each side, swords dangling from their hips alongside holstered pistols. They held bayoneted rifles against their shoulders, standing at attention, not even glancing their way when they arrived.

“You!" Snapped Alice, pointing at the nearest guard who straightened even further, if that was even possible. “Inform the king that Myrra Iyrafiel, ambassador of the Elves, is here and awaiting an audience."

“Yes ma'am!" The guard responded, snapping to attention, and saluting before rushing towards the set of wooden doors, pushing them open and slipping inside before closing them once more.

“Let's hope this goes well," Venallia grumbled, fidgeting with the sleeve of her suit where Myrra knew she had hidden a small dagger, just in case.

“Yes," she responded with a sigh, “Let us hope."

She had informed Venallia and Tess about everything just a few hours earlier. Venallia, to her surprise, had simply shrugged and said she suspected as much. Tess also surprised her by staying calm and actually taking it far more seriously than she would have expected.

They had come up with a plan, not full proof, no plan ever was, but it would allow them to gauge the current state of Idota as well as the rest of Dexan. Once Myrra entered the throne room, she would scan the King, see where he lies on the scales, and determine if he needs to be eliminated. She would then do the same thing for any nobles, politicians, or advisors the King had attending the meeting. Venallia was, of course, accompanying her as an advisor. Myrra had wanted to go alone but they had all agreed that ultimately, it would be best if she had someone with her. And having the person she claimed as her advisor would just sell the act all the more.

She had ordered Tess to use her roguish abilities and snoop around the palace, gather whatever information she could, whether it be word of mouth from ease dropping on servants, or the copying of official documents she might stumble across in some study of a governmental official.

Soon enough, the guard returned, slipping back into the hall from the throne room. He rushed over to Alice, his armor clanking, and leaned down to whisper something into the shorter woman's ear. A thin smile spread across the blonde-haired woman's face, and with a curt nod, the guard retreated into his original position.

“Alright Miss Iyrafiel, the king will see you now," said Alice, making her way towards the doors. She was about to push them open when she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Word of advice, don't make the King angry." Alice flashed Myrra such a sickeningly sweet smile she had to stop herself from gagging at the sight.

“Thank you, Alice. I will do my best to keep things civil and to the point," Myrra replied with a smile of her own. It took everything she had not to scowl and sock the woman in the face. She had scanned Alice on the way here and found her leaning far too much to the side of chaos. The fact that the secretary had asked so many questions on the way didn't help her in the slightest. Especially since such questions had several hidden meanings to them. But Myrra has been playing this game for longer than this woman has been alive, so, when someone asked a seemingly innocent question, she could tell if they were trying to dig for something more. As such, Myrra had fed the woman a lot of misinformation, information that would no doubt end up being told to the King, just as she planned.

Alice nodded and turned back towards the doors, pushing them open and leading her and Venallia inside. As soon as the doors opened, Myrra was greeted by the crashing sound of dozens of conversations, however, she didn't catch any of what the people inside were saying, because as soon as she stepped through the doors the room went silent.

She looked around at the mass of people, all dressed in expensive clothes and fine jewelry. Some held clipboards and quills, while others had armfuls of scrolls, books, and parchment. Out of the corner of her eye, Myrra saw an Arcane Wielder, or Mage as the human's call them, wave their hand through a glowing ball of arcana that was in the center of a long, rectangular table that contained a large map.

There was at least two, maybe three, dozen people in the room, all of them silent and watching her. There was undeniable suspicion in their eyes, especially from the Arcane Wielder, but she was not surprised. She'd be suspicious too if she was silently planning an assault on a neighboring kingdom and they suddenly send an ambassador to discuss things that had absolutely nothing to do with war.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind, focusing on the reason she was here to begin with. There, in the center of the room on a raised dais, sat upon a throne of gold lined with red velvet, was King Ortho Dexan.

He was not what she had expected.

What she saw she could only describe as a man playing dress up. It was like he had come straight out of a story book, dressed like the monarchs of old in a large golden crown with a flowing red cape lined with a collar of white fur. Rings of gold with large jewels graced every one of his fingers, and around his neck hung several necklaces of, of course, gold.

What made it all the worse was that Ortho Dexan was far from ugly. He had short, golden blond hair, ice blue eyes that felt like they were piercing through her, and perfectly straight, white teeth that seemed to gleam with his roguish smile.

His appearance only served to annoy Myrra further. Seeing such a beautiful man sat upon a throne, a seat that only a woman should be occupying, and knowing he was the one to order an attack on her people. It didn't help her mood that her powers had revealed him to be the most likely cause of Chaos this city was facing. Simply looking at him made her feel sick and it was a chore to not let a look of disgust wash over her face.

Alice hopped up the steps of the dais and took her position behind the King and to his left, the Arcane Wielder she had seen before also approaching and taking position on the King's right. He must be some kind of advisor, most likely the King's right hand man, seeing as he's on the King's… well, right hand side.

The Mage looked sickly if she was being honest, even though his body appeared to be in a rather healthy state. He was tall, only an inch or two below Venallia, but he hunched over, as if he was trying to make himself look smaller than he actually was. Dark brown eyes framed by dark bags stared coldly at her from behind a curtain of shoulder length, wiry, greasy black hair. His skin was a sickly grey, and she would have compared it to having the life drained out of you, but she had seen such a thing first hand and it was in no way similar to the appearance of the man before her. In all honesty, it looked as if the man was under constant Arcane Exhaustion.

She and Venallia strode forward till they stood in front of the king, then, as if they had rehearsed it, they bowed at the waist simultaneously.

“King Ortho Dexan," Myrra said respectfully, “I am Myrra Iyrafiel, Royal Diplomat and Ambassador for her Majesty, Queen Evalon Envaris."

“Welcome, Ambassador!" Ortho Dexan's voice boomed, his tone full of joviality that she was sure was fake. “Welcome to Idota, I trust the accommodations I have had prepared for you are to your liking?"

She looked up at the King with a sweet smile on her face, “Of course, your Majesty, they are quite excellent, I thank you for your generosity."

“Of course, of course," he responds with a wave of his hand, “Think nothing of it, you are our guests after all, I will spare no expensive in making your stay here comfortable."

“I am deeply thankful, your Majesty." She tips her head towards him, a serene smile gracing her lips. “I would like to introduce my Advisor and Confidant, Venallia Everloose, she will be helping me during our discussions." She gestured towards Venallia who bowed once more.

“It is an honor to meet the estimated ruler of Dexan," Venallia said almost reverently. Surprisingly, it didn't sound as corny as Myrra had thought it might. Seemed Venallia was far more experienced in these kinds of things then she had given her credit for.

“The honor is all mine!" He replied with a wide, beaming smile. “Let me introduce my people as well. This here," he gestures to Alice, “Is my secretary, Alice Monrovia, whom I'm sure you're already acquainted with. And this fine gentleman," he turns his attention to the Mage on his right, “Is Ekard Wilhum, my advisor and court Mage."

“Charmed," Ekard drawled uninterestedly, the single word dripping like tar from his lips as he minutely inclines his head.

“A pleasure to meet you both," she says as politely as possible. She didn't like the look of Ekard, and as for Alice, she liked her even less. To her surprise, however, when she looked into Ekard's soul, she found him far more balanced then both Alice and Ortho. Still tipping more to the side of chaos, but just barely.

“I have to say, it is quite the treat to be able to meet an Elf in person," Ortho Dexan says excitedly, a smug grin gracing his lips. “I never thought I would ever get to experience something such as this, even though we are neighbors."

“Ah, I must apologize if it seems like we have been ignoring you, your Majesty. My people are reclusive by nature, and we prefer our solitude," Myrra explained.

He waved away the apology, even though it was completely fake. “No need to apologize, no need at all. I understand that people like their privacy, whose to say that can't apply to an entire nation, hm?"

She smiles at him once more and dips her head in acknowledgment, “It is as you say my Lord."

“Now then," he says, clapping his hands together, “Tell me, what is it that brings you before me, Ambassador Iyrafiel? What is that I can help the Elven Nation with?"

And so it begins, she thought, standing up a little bit straighter and preparing herself to make up a convincing story on the spot. Apparently, the King was not going to dismiss anyone from listening in on this conversation, and as such, the nobles, politicians, and advisors that filled the room, listened with rapt attention.

“It is Queen Evalon's hope that the Elven Nation and Dexan may set up a trade agreement, specifically for arcana rich ore, preferably iron, copper, and silver," she began. They weren't actually in need of anything, The Great Forest of Aelia was absolutely brimming with ore rich in arcana if you knew where to look.

“Though, of course, any other supplies that we could trade for would also be greatly appreciated. Currently, The Great Forest of Aelia is in a rather harsh predicament due to the growing rot and decay that we have been at constant war with for the past decade."

“I see," hummed the King thoughtfully, but Myrra could see his lips twitch just a bit and his eyes shine with a predatory light that sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. “Arcana rich ore is a precious commodity, copper and silver are the easiest to get seeing as they are far more sensitive to absorbing magic, iron on the other hand, is much more difficult to obtain. The price of such a trade will be steep, how does the Elven Nation intend on paying for it?"

“Our original hope was that we could trade for it, Iysngrad has a rather unique wood that is not commercially available anywhere on the continent. It's called Iron Wood and is strong, light weight, and highly resistant to magic. Great for building airships. And our silks are better than any other, cool, light weight, and very easy to combine with other materials. With the increasing rise of monsters due to the decay, we have many rare alchemical ingredients, as well as rare crafting materials. But we are not opposed to money if that is what the King desires."

She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn she saw Ekard perk up just a bit at the mentioning of rare alchemical ingredients. It was understandable, he was a human Mage after all, they tended to take a more scientific approach towards the power of arcana.

“I am not unsympathetic towards your plight," says the King, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes. “But, you see, Idota gets a lot of trade as it is, everything you have mentioned I can obtain from somewhere else quite easily."

A lie, she mentally noted. Iron Wood was a preciously guarded resource that the Elves did not trade, and while there are other ways of getting silk, the silk that comes from their silk trees was finer than anything you could find on the market. The fact it was one of the very few materials easily enchanted was just a bonus. The fact he could obtain alchemical ingredients wasn't as hard to believe. Adventures usually sold their kills to the Lodge who in turn sold it on the market.

“And as you can see," he continued, opening his arms wide and gesturing to the entire room as he leaned back against his throne, one leg crossing over the other. “I have more money than I know what to do with. What could you possibly have to offer me that I do not already possess?"

It was here that Myrra finally heard his ego and incompetence slip through his mask of friendliness. Several snickers from a few of the room's occupants filled the air, but she just ignored them.

She kept a smile on her face, even if it was difficulty, and said, “Tell me what it is that you do not possess, and we can procure it for you."

Ortho rubbed his chin for a moment, his eyes full of hungry desire, as he looked her up and down. She had a feeling she knew what he might want, and if it got her alone with him, then she would have no problems going along with it.

Hushed whispering filled the room, and Myrra took the chance to glance around quickly, scanning a dozen or so people with her ability. The results weren't too bad, more chaotically leaning people than she would have liked, but most politicians and people in power were. She could see it though, the steady fall of a kingdom into corruption, the chaos roiling underneath, just waiting to burst forth and wreak havoc.

The King finally answered her with something she was not expecting. “Elves." That single word jolted her to her core, bringing her full attention back towards the King, a flash of anger making itself known on her face before she could school it into something different. However, Ortho Dexan was not done.

“Send some of your people here to work in my palace, they will be well taken care of, I assure you. No other kingdom has elves as servants, with their introduction into my staff; I will have far more standing with the human kingdoms than anyone else."

Myrra could feel a vein getting ready to pop from the anger boiling up inside her. How dare he! How fucking dare he! To sit there, lounging on his throne without a care, his army invading her home and then having the gall to demand she give him Elven servants just so he could increase his reputation and ego?!

It was a lucky thing she had Venallia with her, otherwise she might have done something brash, because no sooner had the words left the King's mouth did Venallia speak up.

“With all due respect, your highness," Venallia said with venom. “But we do not deal in flesh!"

“It is as my Advisor says," Myrra agreed, her voice steady and firm but her eyes staring daggers into the King. “We have offered trade of some of our finest goods, things that no other country has access too, we have offered money, and we have even offered to procure for you any item, that you wish. If you do not want to trade with us, all you have to do is say so and we will be on our way."

By the gods, they were less than ten minutes into their meeting and already she felt a headache coming on. How much longer was she going to have to deal with this man? Sure, she has been in similar situations countless times, but there was just something about Ortho Dexan that irked her. He was just too much. Every word he spoke was just so fake, his smiles so forced, and she could tell that her very presence annoyed him.

“My apologies," said Ortho, tilting his head in their direction. “I was unaware of your feelings towards such a subject."

Myrra didn't want to accept his apology. No, she wanted to walk right up to that human male, pull out her whip, and lash him till he was a bleeding mess bumbling for forgiveness that would never come. However, for the sake of her people and getting the mission done smoothly, as well as not wanting to give the Ethalcant family any kind of leverage over her abilities to rule as Sy Serine, she caved to her inner diplomat.

“Apology accept, your Majesty. Worry not, you were unaware of our, admittedly, strange ways. Unlike the rest of the world, we High Elves do not deal in slaves and the selling of our own people. We find it quite distasteful."

“Yes… Well…" He coughed nervously. “I feel like tempers have risen, let us retire this discussion for now and come back to it when we all have clear heads and open minds, hm?"

The smile he flashed her was insufferable but she played along. “As you wish. I will be returning to my quarters then."

“Nonsense! You are my guests! I have had some entertainment prepared for us! Come, it is midday, let us dine and be entertained and converse more casually."

She nodded, “Very well, we would be happy to accept your offer."

She really was not happy to accept his offer.

***

It was time. How did he know it was time? Well, he could say his arcane powers had magically come back to him and he was able to glimpse the near future once again. But that would be a lie, and lying to himself was just a bad habit that would lead into lying to his master. Not unless he absolutely had to that is.

No, the way Aster knew it was time was due to two things. One was the rumbling stomachs of the guards outside, suggesting that it was nearing lunch time and the two hadn't been rotated out yet. The other was the many footsteps and clanking armor he could hear coming down the hall.

They stopped in front of his door and several words were exchanged with the two soldiers already on guard. He could have listened in, but he chose not to, folding his ears back against his head. Eavesdropping was a bad habit that could get him in trouble if he was caught. To bad curiosity got the better of him sometimes, but thankfully now was not one of those times.

The voices were swiftly replaced by the crunching of metal as someone unlocked his cell door. He stood up from the stool he sat on, hands clasped in front of him and head bowed.

When the door swung open several guards stepped in, brandishing pistols and sabers.

“Alright, beast! Time to go!" One of the guards barked, gesturing towards the open door with his sword.

Aster obeyed immediately, shuffling forward and out the door. The soldiers followed from a distance, switching their swords out for pistols and rifles. The hall was straight and narrow, much better suited to use as a firing range than a place to swing a sword around. He'd learned that a long time ago.

How long had it been? How much time had passed since he'd come into the King's possession? 10 years? 15? He couldn't remember. The past decade was nothing but a blur, a fever dream of demeaning sex and bloody slaughter, as he was high out of his mind on whatever drugs they pumped him with.

It was weird, not waking up in his typical drug induced state. But he was drugged, wasn't he? He felt different than before, yes, but he also didn't feel like himself. Or maybe he did? Aster couldn't remember what it felt like living without emotion altering drugs. Perhaps this was normal, this complete and utter emptiness he now felt. It was… nice. Not having to think, to make decisions. All he had to do was listen, obey, and everything would be okay.

He stared down the hall with glazed eyes, mage lights and forever-burning torches casting dancing shadows all around him. Then he blinked, and found himself standing in front of the familiar iron gate that led to the arena, the guards who had been escorting him now gone.

“Wha…" Aster breathed, looking around for any signs of his previous entourage of heavily armed humans. He shuffled in place nervously, the clinking of his shackles bringing a strange sense of comfort to him. He must have spaced out on his way here. That was a strangely reoccurring effect he'd been experiencing for the past… uh… the past… He couldn't remember how long actually, but it had been a long time. At least he thinks it has.

His attention was drawn back to the gate in front of him and the bit of sunlight that spilled through the gapes. He could hear the crowd cheering outside, see the dust that the winds kicked up in the arena, and smell the excitement and energy buzzing about in the air.

His master was making some kind of announcement, and as much as he knew he shouldn't, he couldn't help but listen in.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!" Boomed King Ortho Dexan. “Today, I would like to welcome our esteemed guest from across the Great Plains, Myrra Iryafiel!"

The booming cheers of the crowd exploded once more, making Aster flinch at the sudden spike in volume and press his ears back against his head. The arena was always so noisy. He hated it. And it smelled. The stench of a thousand people mingling together and making it hard for him to concentrate. From the sweaty body odor of high-class workers, to the over used perfumes and scents of the nobility. It all created such a horrifyingly disgusting smell that used to make him gag.

Ortho Dexan continued on, “A High Elf here to make trade with our great city and bring down the walls of separation her ancestors put up between our two nations centuries ago! Because of such a special occasion, today's fight is a bit different! Not only shall our beast deliver justice onto the criminals of this city, but he will be facing off against leaders of the rebel organization known as White Claw!"

The screaming excitement and uproars of applauding increased tenfold. Aster covered his ears with his hands now, eyes clenched shut tightly as if it would help block out the noise.

He didn't know anything about these 'rebel leaders' but it wasn't his job to know. He just had to do as he was told, and if he was told to kill them, then he would kill them. He had to obey Master! He had to be good! Perhaps, maybe, after all of this, Master would see him as valuable! Maybe, just maybe, Master would collar him and prove that he was worth something!

No sooner did the King's speech finish did the iron gate start to grind open, the sounds of screeching gears accompanying the sound of metal dragging against stone as the gate disappeared into the ceiling.

Aster took a deep breath and composed himself. He patted down his long, braided hair, straightened his embarrassingly tight outfit, and fluffed the fur on his tail and ears to make them look just a tad bigger. Then, he stepped out into the bright sun, his slit pupils dilating to tiny slivers of black against yellow.

The crowd cheered, though not as enthusiastically as before. And as per usual, jeers, insults, and cat calls were mixed in with the shouting. Aster blocked it out as much as he could, focusing instead on the other side of the arena where another gate waited to open and let out his first opponent.

He glanced up at the royal box where the King sat upon a throne, surrounded by tables laden with food and servants who would attend to his every desire. There had been another throne placed next to his, though this one was much less opulent. Sitting in that throne, was a woman so beautiful that Aster couldn't help but stare. Something he knew would probably get him in trouble.

Even though they sat in the shade, the woman's white hair sparkled like freshly fallen snow. At least that's what he thinks snow would look like. He'd never seen it before himself, but he'd heard that it was white and beautiful and sparkled like a million tiny gemstones. She was like Sheon, tall and strong looking, but regal and beautiful at the same time with pale, perfect skin and two pointed ears.

She was dressed rather strangely for what he thought a royal diplomat would be like. Instead of a fancy dress and being adorned with jewelry, she instead wore rather simple clothing. Brown slacks, calf high leather boots, and an emerald green blouse. The only thing fancy she wore was perhaps her coat, and even then, that couldn't exactly be considered fancy. Expensive, well made, yes. But not fancy.

His eyes finally met hers, and for just a brief second, the fog lifted every so slightly from his mind. It returned quickly, however, once he tore his gaze from hers. The haze descending back onto his mind and making his thoughts feel sluggish and unfocused. He shouldn't have done that! Eye contact with his betters was a big no no!

He couldn't get the image of those whitish-blue, azure eyes out of his head, though. They were like moonstones, iridescent, enchanting, and so piercing that it felt like she was staring into his very soul. She was like a wraith, her gaze burning into the back of his head as she gazed into his mind, his soul, his very being!

Before he could lose himself in his own mind, the gate on the other side of the arena began to open. A human man stepped out. He was tall and muscular, his clothes torn and dirty yet he still looked far healthier then Aster felt. He was bald, covered in tattoos and markings, and his brow furrowed in irritation. His eyes were hard and unforgiving, and as soon as he spotted Aster, he began marching over, fists clenched and fury in his eyes.

Aster began walking towards the man as well, his steps slow and measured. As they got closer, Aster could hear the man's heart pounding in his chest and a low growl of anger at his situation. Then a sickly-sweet odor slammed into him, and he did everything in his power not to gag or retch and keep himself composed. Aster's heart filled with pity and sorrow. The man had an infection, one that was most likely going to kill him even if by some miracle he managed to win. It was a mercy that he would die by his hands. The infection would kill him slowly and painfully. Aster could make it quick, and although not painless, it would be a lot less than what the infection would do to him.

Then they met in the middle of the arena, and their fight for survival began. Aster said only two simple words before he bared his claws and fangs.

“Forgive me."

***

Myrra sat back in the guest throne provided to her by King Ortho Dexan, Venallia at her side standing at attention all prim and proper like, looking more like a bodyguard than the advisor she was supposed to be impersonating.

The seat she had been provided was set back just a few steps behind Ortho's throne, the meaning behind such positioning quite clear to her. They are not equals. Her irritated gaze bore a hole in the back of the King's head, much to his ignorance. She would rather be back in her room, snooping around the castle than out here in this fighters pit with this human. Sadly, she had to play her role of diplomat while Tess did the snooping.

“Refreshments, Milady?" asked a timid looking rabbit Chimera, a serving tray with drinks and fruit in her arms.

Myrra's gaze softened and she smiled at the slave. “Thank you very much," she said gratefully, plucking a flute of fruit juice from the tray. The very act of doing so made her stomach churn and twist, her people stood against slavery, even if some of them had found loopholes in the law. The mere act of accepting something from a slave made her feel like she was endorsing the act, or at the very least turning a blind eye to it. But the rest of the world was built on the back of slaves, and she's had to deal with things like this before. The only way to get through was to suck it up and deal with it.

A few moments later, Ortho Dexan stood and made an announcement. Her eye twitched and her fingers gripped the stem of the glass flute so tightly she feared she might snap the thing.

He spoke of friendship and allies, making a bold claim that her arrival was the sign of new beginnings between the elves and humans, that she was here to tear down the figurative walls that separated their people. He went on to ensure the crowd of his imminent victory over a group of rebels that had started causing trouble. That got a massive uproar of approval from the rich and powerful that sat amongst the stands.

She was pissed, beyond pissed even, but she kept her features schooled even as she roared with anger in her head. How dare this man make such a claim! She was not here to bring down these walls of separation! If anything, by the time she was done in this accursed city she will have reinforced said imaginary walls! However, the mention of rebels did pique her interest.

Once Ortho sat back down, she asked, “Rebels, your Majesty?"

He glanced back at her for a moment before speaking. “Yes, there is a small cell of rebels calling themselves White Claw that has been a thorn in my side for the past 5 years."

“And you've yet to catch them?" She asked conversationally, a small smile coming to her lips at the idea of a bunch of his own citizens fighting back against him that he was unable to do anything about.

“They're a small elusive band of miscreants who want nothing more than to cause trouble and grief for me and the citizens of Idota. Their silly, disillusioned beliefs have made them annoying gnats and nothing more."

“How so? Myrra questioned, “Iysngrad, and the rest of the Elven Nation, doesn't experience rebellions, no matter how small, so this is quite interesting to me." She couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at her lips. Her aunt was a good ruler, so much so that almost the entire country loved her. The only ones who didn't like her all that much, nor the policies she's implemented, were the nobles who's power dwindled under her rule.

She could see Ortho Dexan's hands gripping the arms of this throne tightly, his perfectly manicured nails digging small furrows into the wood. “They have raided store houses, burned down guard stations, attacked and killed nobility in the streets only to disappear like shadows. They are disrupting the lives of my people, causing turmoil in the courts, and spreading panic among the populace. They are terrorists who's only wish is to cause mayhem."

“I see," Myrra responded, her head flooding with more than one idea on why these people were rebelling. Reasons that she was sure Ortho Dexan purposefully forgot to mention.

Her attention was grabbed once more when the crowd in the stands roared with excitement, however, her attention was mainly caught because of the amount of insults, jeering, and cat calling she heard. Looking down into the arena, she saw a Chimera standing near the far, right side entrance. At first, she thought that this was some kind of mistake, for the boy was dressed completely opposite to what she was expecting. This was an arena, made for fighting, not some brothel or whorehouse.

She couldn't help but admire him though. She was a woman after all, she couldn't help but stare when there was a beautiful man right in front of her. The pants he wore were tight, showing off his curves and the muscles in his beast-like legs. As well as the shackles clamped around his ankles. The lacey, black shirt he had on accentuated his slim shoulders and waist, making her appreciate his form even more. She felt bad about checking out a slave, it left a bad taste in her mouth, but she couldn't help it. He was just so… gorgeous!

Myrra's eyesight, with the help of arcana, was like that of a hawk, and even from here, she could see he was wearing makeup. A pair of orange furred ears poked up out of his rust brown hair. It fell to his lower back in a single braid, drawing her attention towards his large, bushy tail. It was the same color as his ears, a lovely burnt orange, the tip as white as her own hair.

Then her eyes met with his, and she gazed into the yellow pools before her. She didn't get to look long, however, because no sooner did they make eye contact did he turn away. For some reason she felt disappointed. She wanted to continue looking into those dazzling eyes, to peer into this person's very being and know everything about them.

And so she did.

Activating her Third Eye ability, so lovingly named as such by Avos, she looked into the fox Chimera's soul.

She breathed in sharply, eyes blowing wide and hands clenching the throne's armrests in a death grip. It didn't make any sense! Never in her entire life has she seen something like this, and it scared her.

The scales she saw weren't leaning to one side or the other. They were erratic, going up and down with a violent force. The skull came crashing down, raising the heart as high was it would go, then a split second later the heart would slam down and raise up the skull. It was chaotic yet methodical, up, down, up down. It never wavered, never stopped, just kept ticking back and forth like a broken clock.

A hand gripped her shoulder gently, breaking her concentration. Her head whipped around, a violent retort on her lips, when she saw it was just Venallia. Her friend gave her a concerned and questioning look.

“Are you okay?" Venallia asked so only she could hear.

“I'm… I'm fine, we'll speak of it later," Myrra responded. Venallia looked hesitant, but she nodded a moment later.

Myrra turned her attention back to the Chimera, only to find him approaching a gruff looking man covered in tattoos who she'd missed coming into the arena. She put the thoughts of what she just saw to the side, instead focusing on the fact that the Chimera, who couldn't have been any bigger than five feet tall, was about to face off against a mountain of a man heads taller than himself.

“Aster," the King said absently to Myrra. “He's always been a bit of a troublesome slave, but he's the best damn fighter this arena has ever seen. I would have sold him off or killed him long ago if it wasn't for the fact the crowds love him so much."

“The crowds love him?" Myrra asked skeptically, one brow raised as she listened to the jeering insults of the crowd. Not everyone was shouting insults and slurs, but a good portion of the viewers were.

King Dexan chuckled, “Yes, they do, despite what you hear. What does it matter though? He's only a beast."

Myrra scowled at the slur, her opinion of the King dropping even further. She was surprised it could even get this low.

“And not to mention," Ortho continued, a perverse smile forming on his lips. “He's not too terrible in bed. I saw the way you looked at him. I can arrange for something tonight if you wish."

He looked at Myrra expectantly, and she had to force herself to smile, though she knew it wasn't coming out too well. “No, thank you," she said, her voice slightly sharper than usual. She could feel the tension and anger radiating off Venallia, but the ex-guard captain kept her composure.

Myrra had dealt with annoying, frustrating people before, you would always be dealing with them if you worked in politics, but Ortho Dexan was in a league all to his own. Which if she said that to his face, she was sure he would take it more as a compliment than an insult.

She turned her attention back on the fight, letting her rage boil inside her for the time being. She would get to smash the bastards face in soon enough, she just had to be patient.

King Dexan had told her about the arena fights during their short trip here on his personal skiff. Apparently, criminals were offered the choice –depending on the crime that is- of imprisonment, death (If the crime was severe enough), or to fight in the arena for a chance at freedom if they were able to win.

She wasn't sure how likely it would be for Ortho Dexan to honor such a rule, but she didn't think it was likely. In any case, she couldn't refuse the offer lest she look rude or suspicious, and now she has to watch as some criminal faced off against one more of his slaves for the entertainment of pompous rich folk.

The Chimera –Aster, as Ortho had mentioned before- and human met in the middle of the arena. There was no talking, no banter, no back and forth. Even if there was, she wouldn't be able to hear it all the way up here. They just started fighting.

The man roared in anger and threw a punch that would have caved in any normal person's face. Aster, however, simply side stepped and slapped the incoming attack away with the palm of his hand. The man punched again and again, throwing massive amounts of power into his strikes. The boy just ducked and dodged, letting his opponent drain his stamina and wear himself down.

The tattoo-covered man threw another punch, followed with a kick aimed for the head. The half-beast boy dodged the fist by stepping back, and then ducked under the man's foot as it soared over his head. The man used the momentum of his kick to spin around, the back of his left fist coming around in a powerful arc just as Aster was standing back up. He didn't have time to duck back down, and the back of the man's fist made contact with the side of his face.

Myrra could hear the yelp the boy let out, but he didn't go falling to the ground just yet. He spun with the strike, dropping to all fours and sweeping out his leg in one smooth motion. The heel of Aster's beast-like leg connected with the back of the man's ankle, making him cry out and fall to one knee.

Aster quickly retreated, scampering away on all fours before spinning to his feet, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Myrra could see a thin trail of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth and dripping off his chin. His eyes looked strange in that moment, half-lidded and unfocused and he swayed where he stood. The man's strike must have been rather forceful if it had managed to daze him that much, however, he remained standing.

The criminal got back to his feet and the fight began again. She couldn't say the man had no fighting style, he kept his arms close and raised near his face, like he was boxing or street fighting. What little talent he had was no match for the Chimera boy's unique way of fighting, though.

Fed up with the Aster's prancing, the man swung a right hook, and Aster dodged to the side, the punch was a feint, however, and the man kicked out wildly in an attempt to just get a hit in. He managed to strike Aster right in the chest with such force it sent him flying backwards. There was an uproar in cheering from the crowd, and for a second she thought the boy would lose, but he twisted around in mid-air before landing back on the ground, feet and claws digging furrows into the dirt, causing him to slide to a stop.

He paused there, panting heavily on all fours, a hand clutching at his chest as he coughed. The man called out to him, saying something that Myrra ignored, focusing on the crouched form of this strange, unreadable Chimera. She saw something then, a glint of conviction entering the boy's glazed eyes. Before she could look closer, he was gone, speeding towards his opponent at such speeds she almost missed the punch he delivered to the man's stomach, sending him flying to the ground in return.

The man didn't stay down long though, and even though Aster could have finished the fight then and there, he let the human get back to his feet. The man spat out blood, coughing and retching before finally getting control over himself. He looked furious, the rage boiling in him available for all to see.

She watched the proceeding fight in fascination, her eyes fixed on the Chimera down in the arena. He was not what she had expected. As him and his opponent clashed, she found his unorthodox way of fighting rather entrancing. He dodged and weaved his opponent's strikes, spinning around them and striking where he could with precision. It was like he was dancing, the motions of his body flowing into one another as he kept just out of range of his opponent. What made the way he fought so strange, however, was that he switched to something more beast-like in the middle of a fight. Dropping to all fours and running around them, clawing, biting, and just being animalistic. However, it all still flowed together, like a river of water with many unexpected twists and turns.

His beauty was distracting, making her focus more on him rather than the fight, rather than the claws that now dripped with blood, or the red that stained his mouth. He was like a rose, her favorite flower, beautiful in every way, yet when plucked, would fight back by pricking you with his thorns that you hadn't seen. So beautiful, yet so sharp.

It wasn't long till the fight began to come to an end, the man slowing, the power of his strikes lessened. He was breathing heavily, the look of fear in his eyes at his inevitable lose, and death, shone through for all to see.

Then it was over, Aster dodging one last attack from the man as he spun around him and dragged his claws across his throat. He stood there, dripping with blood that wasn't his own as the man collapsed behind him, his body throwing up a small cloud of dust. With her vision, she could see the boy's shoulders sag, his head hanging low as his tail drooped to the ground, limp and unmoving, just as his ears pressed flat against his head.

The beautiful rose that she once saw within him wilted, his petals falling to the ground where they shriveled and died, leaving behind nothing but a stem full of thorns.