Antagonistic Appropriation

---

AN: Originally posted in my snippet corner. I'm doing much better these days; a warm "thank you" for anyone who was concerned! As for this story, which I'm enjoying quite a bit: feedback is an author's food pellets. Feed me, Seymour.

---

A searing screen of sunlight sliced the town of Little Shade asunder, and in so doing, let the forces of Dawn retreat nearly uncontested. As much as I wanted to charge after their exhausted forms, I had seen a good half-dozen of my ex-superiors die to exactly that sort of hubris. The debilitating effects of sunlight might not be immediately lethal, but they were painful and more than disorienting enough for our foes to leverage their higher mobility to its full effect.

"Please tell me we actually got one of them this time," I asked aloud, my voice as dull and lifeless as the eyes of those our enemies so casually brainwashed.

The core of the so-called Radiant Rainbow Revolutionaries of Dawn might consist solely of seven people, but those seven were more than capable of going up against the Elites of the Shaded Empire of Dusk. I technically led the prestigious First Umbral Platoon of such Elites, but in practice, I just happened to be far better at dodging and blocking than my former superiors. I knew nothing about how to actually lead, had no training in strategy or anything larger-scale than small unit tactics. The best I could do was leave matters to Gray, my second-in-command, and charge in to attract enemy attention while he organized proper counterattacks.

Today, I hadn't even managed to do that much. I was 'reporting' to the wretched waste of umbra calling herself the Baroness of Little Shade — which is to say, letting her complain at me — and was therefore far out of position when RRR struck. To make matters worse, I'd arguably slighted Baroness Charcoal in my hasty exit, and I just knew she was going to kick up a fuss over that. Nobles would do anything to gain even the slightest advantage. The rebels weren't even a weeks' march away from the capital, and still the Empire's nobility squabbled for power.

"Technically, yes," acknowledged Lieutenant Gray. "Magenta."

I cursed under my breath. Killing the mentor of the RRR was better than nothing, but Majestic Magentism had been a thorn in the side of the empire for longer than Gray's grandmother had been alive. Death was an inconvenience for Magentism at this point. Kill her with dark magic and she'd be back after seven months and a day. Use mundane weapons and she'd be back in eight days at the absolute latest. Gray would have been much happier if Magentism had died to dark magic, so even that was out.

'I still don't get why you won't let me eat them,' internally grumbled my best-kept secret.

I didn't expect to live long if the Shaded Court of Dusk ever discovered that I shared headspace with a goddess. Technically, the charter of the Shaded Courts dictated that I should, by law, be elevated to the title of Crown Princess provided that it was not already occupied by one so blessed. It was not.

Practically speaking, the lifespan of an avatar added to the line of succession could be measured in months. The Shaded Court did not appreciate clumsy new blood showing up to stumble all over their preexisting web of intrigue, to say nothing of adding an extra step between them and the throne.

'I mean it this time!'

You said that about the bear.

'Well—look, how was I supposed to know that all that brown stuff wasn't just more bear?'

There is a rock-bottomed lake where nine acres of prime forestland used to be, Joy. I'd almost understand the trees, but all that grass-covered dirt, too?

'Listen, it's not like I'll have that problem with the Rainbows! Their whole thing is that they're brightly colored!'

If color similarity was the only issue with Joyful Devourer of Dark Destinies' aim, she might have a point. I was not so lucky. Since the age of three, we'd never gotten through a full year without Joy eating something she wasn't supposed to. Often a great deal of something. I loved her, I truly did, but I remained firmly of the opinion that she should be gnawing on things closer to her own size. Like, say, inconvenient mountains.

Remember that time where you insisted you could stealthily eat a deadbolt to let us out of the closet, and instead, you simultaneously ate every doorknob in the entire street? Siccing you on a human is just begging for trouble.

Joy gave a performative grumble, but we both knew her heart wasn't in it. She was simply as sick of this war as I was — no, as my entire platoon were. I knew only a few people who seriously wanted to defend the Empire for the Empire's sake, and nearly all of them were pompous bloodbags from cadet branches of noble families. The rest of us just wanted to make sure our neighbors could keep the bodies they'd possessed all their lives.

The Rainbows claimed that we were all supposed to be human, and it was only a curse laid upon the Shaded Empire that was responsible for our more unusual citizens. To lift that curse by purifying the Shaded Palace was to "cure" the citizenry of their "monstrous inhumanity."

(I could remember something in me breaking when I'd heard those words escape Adorable Aquamarine's lips. A pretty girl with a pretty voice in a colorful, bouncy dress that I wanted to wear myself, and she used all that attention to spew hateful garbage. The Empire had its fair share of internal problems, but at least we didn't view each other as monsters.)

I knew some people wanted bodies other than those they'd been born with, but to impose that upon everyone? It would be an atrocity. What of the kobold blacksmith who used her bare hands to shape metal for her entire life? The harpy performers who spent just as much time in the air as on the ground? The owl librarian who ensured that even midnight workers could still pursue knowledge? The dryads who enabled the growth of even the most recalcitrant medical herbs? Orcish warriors, whose inhuman strength and stamina let them hunt true monsters that would gorge themselves to death if allowed to run rampant?

To turn everyone human and upend all their lives simply because our ancestors had been cursed — no. I would sooner doom myself by revealing Joy than let that happen. We weren't all the same, and to force everyone into a mould of identical normality would be an atrocity.

'And I'll eat the entire Court before I let them hurt you, so don't stress so much! Everything will be perfectly okay!' Joy tried to reassure me.

A long track record of dead avatars indicate that we can, in fact, be killed.

'You aren't them, and their partner deities weren't me,' Joy said with exaggerated arrogance.

"Hey, Captain," Gray said conversationally, unknowingly interrupting Joy's attempts at cheering me up. "Wanna go burn down an orphanage?"

I twitched and slowly leveled a halfhearted glare at the grinning gargoyle.

"Do you have to phrase that as provocatively as possible?" I asked plaintively.

The current command post of the Rainbows had indeed once been an orphanage. Not the orphanage I'd grown up in, but an orphanage nonetheless, and I knew well how unwilling the current aristocracy was to actually spend money on orphans. If we broke it, there might never be a real replacement.

Another issue was that we'd either need to charge through half a kilometer of sunlight, or march for a good two hours to go around. Charging through would see us easy pickings for the surviving six of the core Rainbows. Going around would leave us far out of position, and Little Shade could easily fall while we were gone.

I opened my mouth to remind Grey of exactly that, then paused as a distant tree glowed green and began moving unnaturally, its limbs reaching down to help push itself back out of the ground. Most importantly, this was happening on our side of the sunlit rift.

Or they could be foolish enough to attack again while I'm still fresh. Soothing shadows, how could such utter morons be this ridiculously successful?

"A tree is fine too," Gray cheerfully commented.

"Go," I said shortly.

The order wasn't any sort of actual guide; we'd worked together more than long enough for him to know what to do. My instruction was simply to give him an excuse to avoid blame should this skirmish go especially badly. We kicked off the roof in opposite directions, him to fetch backup and myself toward the enemy. I trusted Gray to rally our forces and join me as soon as he could, and Joy to help me stay alive long enough for that aid to arrive at all.

Roofing tiles shattered beneath my feet every time I landed and leapt off a new roof, and part of me winced at the damages. Still, it would be cheaper than letting the Rainbows wreck buildings wholesale. I drew my sword as I approached, a discreet pulse of umbra transforming its steel surface from a rapier into a shivering black shortsword, and squinted at the shadowed shield protecting this district's umbralla. Splashes of blue and green slammed against the barrier's buckling surface, and I immediately identified the two closest combatants: Tender Thyme and Adorable Aquamarine.

In an attempted lightning raid like this, the goal would be to down the shield as quickly as possible. The other four living members of the team would be attacking from two sites equidistant to force the barrier to cover extra ground. As such, I completed only a cursory check for possible ambushes before a pulse of umbra launched me toward Tender Thyme's sunlight-corrupted tree battering at the barrier.

Flooding my weapon transformed it from a blade to full-sized sledgehammer, and a single swing was sufficient to break the animated tree in two. Leaping off the collapsing tree and back to the street might have expended more energy than a proper landing and roll, but the further I was from the barrier, the safer it was from area attacks.

'Also, it's satisfying,' Joy called me out, giggling.

I landed between the barrier and the Rainbows trying to break it, the sledgehammer in my hands reverting to a shortsword. A quiet part of me wanted to strike a pose, but I ignored it with the ease of long practice. I didn't have the political backing to let me indulge in frivolities.

"We both know you won't surrender, so I won't bother to offer," I deadpanned.

The two teenage Rainbows stared at me like I'd knocked bowls of soup from their hands. I internally preened at the reaction even as I carefully examined their seemingly-intact dresses for signs of prior damage. Sure enough, a good third of their cloth-mimicking armor glistened from recently-repaired rips and tears, and it looked as though someone had even managed to break Aquamarine's trident in half. Repairing weapons was most magically expensive of all. At a guess, Aquamarine would be down to four-tenths of her aether, and Tender Thyme at about half.

You should have waited until tomorrow, I did not say.

"Oh, stars, how is it always you?" Aquamarine groaned, halfheartedly twirling her trident to send seven tip-heavy pressurized water spears toward me in high parabolic arcs.

I elected not to mention that they had been the ones to attack again after managing to escape me earlier. If they wanted to make that mistake again in the future, I certainly didn't intend to complain. I also did not mention how a lower attack arc would let Aquamarine use the barrier as a backstop, punishing me for dodging. A little road damage was far less of a problem than losing a town district's sole protection against sunlight.

As always, I glided around and between Aquamarine's curving attacks with contemptuous ease. The directional contact detonations of her spears' tips might make them more damaging, but condensing aether so tightly meant that there was no mobile vanguard to clear a path for the rest of the spell. It was hard to make a spell change direction when you had to wrestle practically the whole thing rather than gently guiding the front and letting the rest follow.

Rising flagstones ahead of me provided the only warning before verdant green vines tore their way out of the street — that's going to be irritatingly slow to fix — and whipped toward me. Unlike Aquamarine, Thyme actually knew what she was doing, and there were no easy gaps in her offense. I hastily swing, precious umbra transforming my weapon into an oversized claymore for all of a second, and hopped over the vines now too short to threaten me. Another kick off cracking flagstones served to avoid a second burst of vines and close the remaining distance between me and Aquamarine. Only the momentary slip of a freshly summoned patch of ice saved her from having the entire front of her uniform split in half.

'Only,' I thought darkly. The core Rainbows were so threatening not only because they were versatile powerhouses, but because they were lucky. If it wasn't a patch of ice, it would have been an attack from Thyme, or some other trick by Aquamarine, or an ally coming out of hiding, or a bird spontaneously forgetting how to fly. Majestic Magentism was the only one we'd ever managed to kill, and her deaths didn't stick.

"How are you not a back-line general by now?" Aquamarine whined, her twisting trident summoning a series of waterspouts while she scrambled away from me. "Seriously, you are the single biggest and most consistent pain we have ever fought! Even the Abyssal Drake wasn't as bad as you!"

I tried not to look too pleased by the assessment. Judging by Joy's sudden burst of telepathic giggling, I almost certainly failed. I tried to keep my ego in line by reminding myself that I couldn't lead worth a damn; I was good at fighting, little more, and promoting me away from combat would only lead to disaster.

"Do I look like a noble?" I asked dryly, kicking off sideways and twisting in midair to swap targets.

Tender Thyme's eyes widened, and a thorny hedge burst upward before even a spear could reach her. I knew from experience that pruning the growing hedge would be more trouble than it was worth, and settled for looping right around it. She predictably ran in the opposite direction, yet everyone here knew that Thyme's hasty defense had served its purpose and let her gain distance.

It wasn't an exaggeration to say that most of my fights more closely resembled tag than anything else. I was simply better at melee combat than any Rainbow save Magentism herself, and their first two forced retreats had provided ample reinforcement for that lesson.

"Yes?" Tender Thyme squeaked.

My weapon spasmed in irritation, and I forced myself to view Thyme's words as a compliment. It was true that most people did look at least a little gaunt. I assumed that Joy was the sole reason that my own early malnourishment didn't leave me similarly impacted.

'Left!' Joy yelped.

I slammed one foot down and stopped just short of not only the fresh wall of branches that I had expected, but a wave of water flowing through Thyme's prior hedge. Aquamarine's screech of frustration was music to my ears.

That trick is new. Thank you.

Joy answered with warm affection, but otherwise didn't distract me from the fight at hand. I slowly shifted to face the hedge and cocked my head to one side, my spare hand shifting just far enough back that a fresh wire spun from shadow would be hidden from my adversaries.

Or at least, that was the intent. A flash of light from the corner of my eye provided just enough warning for me to jump back, arm and wire whipping out to wrap around a distant street light. Another tug sent me hurtling away from a carriage-sized fireball.

Quite predictably, Tireless Topaz's attack impacted Thyme's branches and engulfed them in flames. I, on the other hand, landed well out of the blast radius, smirking and proudly pretending that I had planned to avoid Topaz's ambush all along. Thyme's plants wouldn't burn nearly fast enough to make that area accessible again, but the flames did cast an abundance of shadows. I started discreetly seeping my own umbra into the freely provided resource.

"Seriously, just what does it take for literally anyone other than Magentism to actually hit you?" Topaz complained, lightly falling to street level and striding toward her teammates.

I considered striking before they could cluster together, but ultimately opted against it. Saturated shadows would provide more of an advantage than Topaz's dubious battleaxe skills, especially when Topaz's arrival forced me to reassess the Rainbows' motives. This might be less of a lightning raid and more an attempt at luring me away from backup. Unfortunately, my duty remained unchanged.

"Not being a monstrous traitor to the Empire, I think," I mused aloud. "My comrades land plenty of hits when we spar."

They were usually hits on my armor, mind, but I wasn't going to mention that.

The moment I didn't follow my words with a visible attack, Thyme twitched and started scanning the area. Unlike her oblivious teammates, she at least seemed to realize that I was probably doing something sneaky.

"Liar!" Aquamarine accurately called me out, outstretched finger pointed accusingly. "And, really, you're calling us monstrous? Pot calling kettle black, anyone?"

Her words tore open a wound I'd long since considered cauterized, and it took an effort of will to avoid launching my assault then and there. I settled for scowling and stomping toward the trio, each footfall accompanied by a discreet pulse of umbra. They hastily scrambled away to keep the range open.

"Yes!" I shouted back. "Exactly because that's your stance! I have seen proper monsters, and absolutely none of them are 'cursed!' They're mindless beasts left untouched by your rebellion's goals!"

I swept one outstretched arm outward, disguising a thrown arc of umbra beneath the performative gesture.

"Orcs? Goblins? Patient gargoyles?" I continued ranting. "None of them qualify as 'monsters,' and the fact that you view them as such is a problem with you! Do you truly think they all want to be human, when doing so might bar them from their very livelihoods?"

I bit back words that would unquestionably qualify as treason — that no common-birthed soldier I knew wanted to fight the Rainbows, and only did so because the consequences of failure were worse than the empire's continued rule. Instead, I settled for yanking one arm upward and clenching my hand into a fist. Arrows of shadow surged upward from all around me, lunging toward the trio of Rainbows at the speed of their namesake–

–and then, because I knew how this song and dance went, I lightly stepped back and to one side just in time to dodge a beam of yellow light. The Rainbows often let us monologue, but they always followed a large-scale attack with a smaller strike of their own.

Studious Sunflower stepped out from an alley just beside her comrades, her lance and sundress shining with enough light to at least weaken my incoming spears. Still, first blood of the fight went to me: none among a staff, battleaxe, or trident were designed to block multiple piercing weapons, and physical barriers took too long to raise. Light-weakened my shadow arrows might be, yet plenty of them struck home and poked gaping holes in the uniforms of my opponents. They likely inflicted only tiny scratches and pinpricks to the skin beneath said uniforms, yet the new vulnerabilities would make my life far easier later on.

"It would be much easier to hate you if you were actually evil," Sunflower said sadly, slowing to a stop beside the other Rainbows. "I don't suppose the Shades are holding hostages over your head? It truly isn't an exaggeration to say that, with the obvious exception of the Dark Empress herself, you are personally the single biggest barrier to our ultimate victory."

Instead of throwing any further attacks in their direction, I hesitated and briefly flicked my eyes toward the umbralla's shield. Unless my opponents turned around and stopped letting me distract them, I doubted that Curious Crimson and Accepting Azure could bring it down before Lieutenant Gray showed up with reinforcements. Stalling for time might earn me a small slap on the wrist, but it wouldn't be as much of a 'failure' as letting the Rainbows tear another hole in the Curtain.

I returned my gaze to the Rainbows and forcibly fought down my anger at Aquamarine in favor of a small, defeated slump. I'd lost track of the number of times I'd fought them or their subordinates, and the 'Proper, Imposing Imperial Captain' act wasn't convincing anyone to change sides. Maybe they'd actually listen if they saw a little emotional weakness.

No, I wasn't still bitter over them thinking that I was a noble.

"I'm an unclaimed orphan in a position that doesn't encourage close friendships," I indirectly answered, lightly shaking my head while keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the enemies before me.

I tried to ignore the way that all four Rainbows twitched and started staring strangely. I'd never been the best at understanding the nuances of socialization, body language included. Were they pitying that I didn't have parents? Merely startled that I would fight for the Empire, considering how it often treated orphans? Something else? I really had no idea.

"The problem is that your goals will hurt entirely too many people if I let you succeed," I continued. "How many homes are built to accommodate the current size of their inhabitants, large or small? Their clothing and tools? How much food and water they need, what kinds of food they can safely eat? Their recipes? Geographical obstacles? You campaign to 'break the curse laid upon the citizens of the Empire,' but that curse was laid upon our ancestors. Generations since have adapted to their forms. I don't deny that some people might still want to become human, but they're far from everyone, and you have no right to make that choice for them."

I let my blade revert to a mundane metal rapier and pointed it at the quartet before me. Resolve blended with umbra and leaked from my body, saturating the surrounding air with my will and letting me reclaim considerably more power than I spent. Against lesser opponents, the resulting halo of darkness might be intimidating, but I suppose that they'd seen such displays from more than enough dark captains.

"I will die before I let you harm so many others in your self-righteous arrogance," I finished.

'Like I'd let you,' Joy grumbled unhelpfully.

Aquamarine let out a startled, "Mmh!" noise while raising one finger.

"You—do realize that we don't actually kill people, right? Ever?" Aquamarine asked. "Like, so many of them stop being aggressive post-purification because their brains are no longer literally marinating in corrupted aether, so even if you're worried about personality death, stop that."

I wasn't sure whether or not I actually believed her claim; too many of the Rainbows' past opponents had financial incentives to keep fighting, not just emotional ones. Regardless, I had zero intention of letting the Rainbows 'purify' me so that I could verify or disprove their claims.

"All we want to do is eat your brains~"

Whatever Thyme sang under her breath, I couldn't hear it. Judging by how Topaz halfheartedly smacked her a moment later, it had been some sort of joke rather than plotting an attack.

"I stand by my words," I disagreed.

Because the Shaded Court will assassinate me if I ever resort to Joy's power to stop you.

"Ah, right. The Imperial Retirement Plan," Topaz said dryly. "Also known as the noose."

An amused snort slipped from me. Not what I meant, but she wasn't exactly wrong. Almost as many Elites had been slain for 'failure' than were actually purified by the Rainbows. I was a bit surprised that I hadn't been recalled to explain myself, actually.

"Also, it's funny that you should mention food," Sunflower added earnestly. "Without real sunlight, crop yields are absurdly low, and — really, that and the terrifying technological stasis are the most important reasons I can think of. If someone really wants to go back to a preferred 'cursed' species, it wouldn't be that difficult, you see? Not compared to all the effort spent desperately scavenging for every bit of food. Going by how you look, I'm guessing that the capital actually took care of their orphans for appearances' sake, but they get the bare minimum everywhere else."

My lips twitched.

"No," I smugly commented, "we were barely fed, too. I'm just built different."

This time, I did indulge in raising my chin and puffing my chest out like a peacock.

'I'm very proud of my work with you,' Joy happily agreed.

"You're not, like. Sacrificing virgins and bathing in their blood, are you?" Aquamarine asked.

I dropped the mock-arrogant pose and imbued my expression with as much scorn as I could muster. Topaz rebuked Aquamarine's stupid question via a pigtail-pull that wretched a satisfying yelp of pain from the hateful idiot, then stepped forward.

"Question," Topaz asked, her casually curious tone immediately sending my guard back up.

Topaz paused for effect, tossing her ponytail back over one shoulder, before continuing.

"If the Rainbows merely sought to overthrow the Empire rather than breaking the Curse or Curtain, would we be on the same side as you?"

Well, obviously, I fought not to say, face twisting in a grimace.

"We don't live in that world, so the point is moot," I deflected.

With the way the Rainbows all stopped to gape at me, you'd think that I'd pulled out a bag of gold and tried to bribe them.

"Wait. Hold on," Aquamarine balked. "We could have avoided all this trouble with a platform change? You've broken my arms or legs, like, six times! And my ribs!"

Shadows slithered to my right, and I determinedly kept my gaze off them. The presence of new audience members did mean I needed to lay off the treason, though. Most of my platoon liked me, but there was always some greedy fool aiming for a promotion.

"No," I said, half-truthfully. "Even on the fleetingly small chance that events occur as you wish them to, I'm afraid we're left with another question: who is funding your rebellion?"

A row of blank faces confirmed my fears: the Rainbows had no idea what I was talking about.

"No-body...?" Sunflower slowly hazarded.

This time, I didn't bother to keep them in my sight when I shook my head. They still thought they could flip me, and wouldn't jeopardize that by striking first.

"Magentism's assets have been seized on numerous occasions," I impatiently explained, "and they seldom correlate to stolen or missing imperial assets. It would be one thing if you girls alone refrained from killing in favor of purification, but half the rebellion follows your lead. The reagents for those painfully bright enchanted weapons and wands had to come from somewhere, to say nothing of the incredible amounts of gold spent on bribery and simply feeding the populace.

"That you didn't even seem to notice these logistical necessities is, quite frankly, more alarming to me than naively believing the best of known benefactors. Headless military structures provide excellent opportunities for outsiders to invade, and I will not trade the boots on our backs for ones crushing our throats."

Ah, treason slipped out again. Credit where it was due, the Rainbows were very good at bringing that out in people.

'I don't even want to eat them anymore,' Joy agreed, sulking.

That's a first, I teased.

'Hey now.'

A patch of squirming shadow signaled from behind the assembled Rainbows. I tried not to grimace. Before now, I could claim that I was merely keeping the enemy distracted. With my platoon now in position, I would instead need to cut this conversation short to avoid official disapproval. I'd felt as though I was finally making progress with the Rainbows, too.

"Umbral Captain Versatile Violence," Sunflower said oddly, moving to cover her face with one hand. "Oh, no."

I cocked my head inquisitively, but despite naming me, Sunflower didn't seem intent on directing any questions my way. The other three Rainbows looked at Sunflower, initially as puzzled as I was, before all three seemed to share Sunflower's realization.

"Versatile Violence," Aquamarine agreed(?) in what I could at least identify as a dismayed tone. "You have got to be fu–"

A familiar rod of stone slammed into Aquamarine's gut, and Umbral Elite soldiers swarmed out from between and atop nearby buildings. I burst forward to join them. I didn't feel as though this was ideal timing, but Gray always did have a weird aversion to letting anyone utter curses, enemies included. Maybe soap tasted even worse for gargoyles?

---

AN: I thought this was going to be a quick cutaway before returning to Captain Versatile Violence, but nope. You get a whole chapter.

---

"I can't believe we missed this!" Curious Crimson groaned from atop her cot, alternating between periods of complaining and chewing on her own pillowcase. "It isn't even a weird shade like most of us! Violet is explicitly part of a normal rainbow! I'd been assuming that the Realm's Steppiest Elite would take over the military or the entire frickin' empire after we purified her and finally won the war, but nope! Her being Violet makes so much more sense than some epilogue nonsense!"

Topaz glanced around the recently-repaired orphanage bedroom that they'd taken for their own ends, verifying that Azure's silencing spell was indeed protecting the sanctity of their discussion and that all the wooden boards were intact. Their team had done a pretty good job — well, mostly — of not identifying Captain Versatile Violence as the (supposedly-)destined Violet during their hasty retreat to the safely sunlit area, yet Violet's identity still might be lethal if the team's agonizing ended up overheard before Violet could be safely dragged, stabbing and snarling, into the fold. And they would definitely need to make that a top priority, considering that their team's teacher apparently wasn't trustworthy. They only had a week before Magentism would resurrect herself again.

It hurt, thinking that Magentism might have lied about the reasons behind the Rainbow Revolution and been exploiting them all along. At this point, though, Topaz found that dull pain to be both familiar and oddly relieving. Being summoned, literally transforming from timid little Trinity Lovelace into the confident Tireless Topaz, actually having friends who didn't hurt to be around — all of it was wonderful, and Topaz had frequently found herself terrified that something awful must surely be coming to compensate. Now the catch showed itself, yet all of Topaz's friends were still alive and should stay that way. Even if Magentism turned out to be a full-fledged murderess, the rest of the Rainbows could definitely take her.

"I mean, we didn't know about the orphan thing and tended to have other things on our minds when around Miss 'Versatile Violence'," Aquamarine justified. "Like, 'oh gods, I really hope those ribs will heal properly,' 'please work ohnopleasework,' or 'why ME? Thyme was closer!'"

"Git gud," Thyme stage-whispered.

Aquamarine shot up from her cot, eyes narrowed, and stalked toward Thyme with pillow held in hand. The pseudo-druid hastily lifted her own pillow as a shield, giggling madly while her most common combat partner pummeled her.

"We did try to talk to her," Accepting Azure added, raising her voice to an almost uncharacteristically loud volume to be heard over the one-sided pillow fight. "Just—um, a-apparently, about the wrong things?"

How many of us weren't really trying, though? Topaz thought. After Merciless Musician, Capricious Cruelty, Fearless Ferocity, and — all the other passing villains, it was easy to just dismiss Violet's words as belonging to one more empire stooge. Sure, she might look our age, but so do half the people we fight even though most of them are two or three times as old.

It took Topaz a few seconds to realize that she probably should have said all of that aloud. It was hard to break habits thoroughly reinforced by everyone finding Topaz — or, well, Trinity — annoying. Even after the better part of seven months in the Shaded Realm, surrounded by people who welcomed and encouraged her input, Topaz kept needing to remind herself to speak up. It was surprisingly easy when she was fighting someone, but the rest of the time, Tireless Topaz's title felt wildly inappropriate. Admittedly, Tender Thyme also encountered the issue of an exclusively combat-appropriate title: when Thyme was actually safe and alone with the team, Thyme tended to be one of the loudest of the Rainbows.

At any rate, by the time Topaz mustered the will to open her mouth, Sunflower had already begun speaking. Topaz slowly closed her mouth, feeling foolish.

"I don't think any of us can reasonably be blamed for our oversight," Sunflower reasoned. "We're supposed to be operating under some kind of translation enchantment, right? In theory, that shouldn't work on most wordplay. And yet, we've heard an abundance of puns while here. I'll admit that puns, the ever-present alliteration, and lip-syncing should all have been warning signs, but it's equally true that we've all had plenty of other things on our minds."

Aquamarine finally seemed to decide that she'd prefer to actually pay attention rather than pummeling Thyme, and settled for — well, settling on top of Thyme, fashioning an improvised throne from two pillows and her still-squirming teammate.

"If I'd known this was all it took to get you to sit on me–" Thyme started.

Sunflower tossed her pillow to Aquamarine, who used it to muffle Thyme's insinuations without so much as a moment of hesitation.

Crimson politely applauded their seamless teamwork. Topaz, once she belatedly realized Thyme had made a sex joke, couldn't help but shift with lingering discomfort. Back home, even joking about carnal acts between women would have earned Topaz several days locked in the shed without food. Definitely a ban on further contact, too. It was beyond strange to be part of a group that treated such jokes as equivalent to puns: possibly worthy of exasperation, but not something wrong. It was a relieving contrast, certainly, yet still strange.

"Okay," Aquamarine said briskly, still pressing a pillow over her laughing teammate's face. "So, I think it's pretty clear that Violet either grew up here or was brainwashed, right? I mean, I want to say 'brainwashed' considering she doesn't look half-starved and it's weird to have her be the only one not summoned, but she actually had some pretty good points. I hate that she did, but they were still logical instead of all, 'rah rah undying loyalty to the Empire.' I can't see them going through the trouble of teaching details that might contradict brainwashing-reinforced claims."

Crimson volunteered, "I know Magenta didn't really tell us about any backers aside from recently-purified people. And, like, I did actually ask? She waved it off as contributions from purified nobles and merchants and whatever."

Thyme's snickering rapidly subsided at the subject of their mentor. Topaz felt her mood sink, a sentiment visibly shared by her teammates. Magentism hadn't always been the most attentive mentor, and was quite insistent on sticking to teaching them magic rather than humoring tangental questions. They'd accepted that as a necessity based on her splitting her attention among six pupils and managing a rebellion, but…

"Magenta's promise to send us back home when we're done does seem much less innocent now," Sunflower said quietly. "We'd willingly turn our backs and assume all would be well, satisfied that we'd done everything we were supposed to and that the former Shaded Empire would live happily ever after."

Aquamarine reluctantly relinquished her throne, scooting to one side of Thyme's cot and letting its rightful owner sit back up. Topaz's own mood fell further at the evidence that Magentism's assurances might have been self-serving deceptions. Magentism had promised that new powers and trinkets would be theirs to keep, albeit probably weakened on Earth, but could they actually believe Magentism in light of what Versatile Violence had said? That their rebellion probably had a foreign backer that Magentism never mentioned?

Topaz often felt her chest tighten at the mere idea of going back to Earth. Topaz had feared her aunt and uncle before she vanished during her senior year; she didn't want to know how bad they would be now. If she had to return to Earth without her magic? No. She'd rather remain here her whole life even if none of the others did. At least Topaz probably wouldn't actually be alone even if it came to staying; the entire team seemed suddenly intent on taking long, deep breaths.

Surprisingly, Azure was the first one to recover and speak up.

"I think, um — well, yes," Azure started uncertainly. "I don't—please remember that Crimson and Midnight and I, um, w-weren't there, so I might be missing something, but—I think Violence–"

Azure hesitated, swallowed, and shook her head.

"That, um, really does sound wrong, and — and too many things fit, you're right. So, we think Violet is right, and abruptly e-ending the Curse would end horribly. People trapped in th-their homes, stranded on cliffs — u-um, aren't there merpeople? So drowning, too. T-This isn't — Magenta has had centuries to t-think about this, h-hasn't she? And this is still her plan. We don't l-like that at all."

Azure unconsciously rubbed at her own arms, visibly on the verge of crying. Topaz wasn't really sure how to reassure Azure when she was right, but thankfully, Aquamarine seemed to have that covered; the water-themed 'Magical Girl' soon crossed the room to pull Azure into a hug.

Less comfortable was Aquamarine making pointed eye contact with her teammates until they came to join a group hug, with Thyme dragging another cot over so that Azure's cot didn't collapse under their collective weight. Hugs were at least tolerable even if Topaz wasn't at all used to them, though.

…Okay, maybe hugs are nice, Topaz soon amended, feeling herself relax more than should be warranted by a little physical contact. One of these days, that lesson might actually stick, because Topaz is positive she's repeatedly thought that.

"We have so many things telling us that this world is a mostly-kid-friendly Magical Girl saga," Crimson started slowly. "To an extent that is, quite frankly, a bit creepy. The names, light versus dark, comically evil empire, rotating mook cast, all that. I mean, watch this: I should be allowed to say 'f–'"

A wooden board cracked overhead, drowning out Crimson's words and interrupting her with an unusually accurate shower of splinters. Crimson huffed and promptly started brushing shards of wood out of her hair and pajamas.

"See! See!" Crimson hissed, completely missing Thyme's mischievous grin or the implications thereof. "We just repaired that! Seriously, if anyone brings home a red-eyed telepathic marshmallow, I won't be held responsible for my actions. So yeah, I think all this utter flipping nonsense primed us to — uh."

Crimson hesitated for several seconds before sheepishly shaking her head, almost bonking Topaz's head in the process. After that near-mishap, there was a silent consensus to break up the haphazard group hug and settle for merely sitting in contact with each other. Topaz took the time to try and figure out what Crimson meant by a 'telepathic marshmallow,' but was coming up blank. Such uncertainty wasn't new; the rest of the group seemed to share a lot of common references that Topaz didn't understand at all.

...Maybe she could bond with Violet over that, eventually.

"Lost my train of thought," Crimson eventually admitted. "I don't suppose anyone knows where it went?"

"Primed us to assume that everything would fit familiar themes?" Thyme prompted.

Crimson snapped her fingers and pointed at Thyme.

"That, thank you!" Crimson confirmed. "So, yeah, I don't think we're suddenly 'the baddies' or anything, but I can buy that there are details we've been quietly encouraged to overlook. Like how this dimension is supposed to have, what, two other nations that are both too small to even inconvenience an entire empire that probably only ignores those polities for the sake of having external foes to blame. Since they're too weak, any backers for Magentism have to be extradimensional, right?"

There was a small pause before Sunflower shrugged.

"Proooobably?" Sunflower hazarded. "Natives do call this both the 'Shaded Realm' and 'Shaded Continent,' and I don't think there are any other landmasses. And, yeah, the people who summoned us can clearly reach across dimensions, so assuming they're from a third dimension isn't much of a stretch."

"The whole Shaded Realm is supposed to either be a wholly artificial dimension," Thyme agreed, "or a displaced landmass that was once part of a larger world. And I think natives view the Curtain as protecting them from both sunlight, and outside threats. So, add a mark for 'ways we might be helping invaders wage a proxy war.'"

Crimson slowly shook her head, then paused, nodded, and stopped moving again mid-nod. An annoyed grunt escaped her before she finally replaced her gestures with a coherent explanation.

"I think Violet is right about us having dubious backing," Crimson acknowledged, "but don't believe that we should suddenly look at Magenta as some kind of evil deceiver. Our war is only so one-sided because of how hilariously inept Shades tend to be — er, imperial soldiers, I mean. Not the entire citizenry. A-Anyway, uh, she might think that fewer people would be killed by a similarly botched defensive war than by collateral Curse effects? Er, I mean that the casualties from sudden Curse removal might cause enough chaos for another war to be botched. Plus, I'm not sure how many of you noticed, but she's — kind of extremely condescending sometimes? Not just toward us, but toward pretty much everyone."

Topaz tried turning Crimson's words inside her head. Was Crimson seriously arguing that causing more casualties than necessary while removing the curse might be a good thing, to Magenta, if it let outside invaders decisively conquer the nation with a minimum of bloodshed? That — didn't seem right at all, and still sounded pretty evil. Topaz didn't follow Crimson's logic and, quite frankly, wasn't feeling half as charitable toward Magentism in general. Topaz was even less sure about what a condescending attitude had to do with possible invaders, especially when it was being phrased as something in Magenta's favor.

Neither point was worth arguing about when Topaz wasn't sure she'd understood correctly, though. At least Topaz didn't need to wait long for an explanation; Sunflower tended to be good for those.

"Oh, joy of joys," Sunflower sighed. "So we might be helping imperials trade up to imperialism. Wonderful. That makes entirely too much sense."

…Never mind. Weren't those two words for the same thing? Topaz bit her lip and decided not to risk making herself look dumb by asking, especially when everyone else seemed to understand exactly what Sunflower was getting at. Best to just move the conversation along.

"So, I thought Violet might be easier to turn than we thought," Topaz ventured, picking up steam and confidence as she went. "But it sounds like — well, that we should definitely be aiming at the Shaded Empire alone? At least right now. It's already autumn, so I think we can justify putting off downing the Curtain until spring planting, and that would hopefully give us enough time to set up alternate living arrangements for the most vulnerable. At the least, I think we can promise to put it off until then and reassess when we get there.

"I think we also agree that Violet was right about a possible post-war invasion, so if we offer our help with that, maybe she'll finally join up? I'm not sure she'll be convinced, though. Violet seemed to think the Empire was the better option. We'd need to be really lucky for her only to be saying — I mean, for her to have only said that because we had an unfriendly audience. So do we agree with her on all points except the Empire and try our best to convince her anyway, or…?"

Really, Topaz wished they'd figured this out sooner. Versatile Violence was an absolute menace, and in hindsight, it shouldn't be too surprising that the seventh member of their team should be such a pain. At the very least, Violet was far more magically powerful than Magentism, and seemed to have received actual combat training rather than the haphazard improv and sporadic tutoring that characterized the rest of the Rainbows' education.

"Alternatively," Thyme said slowly, a grin slowly spreading across her face, "we could do something really stupid to make the point moot."

"I don't know what this plan is, but I object on grounds of both principle and precedent," Topaz said instantly, mouth running on autopilot.

When Thyme condemned one of her own plans as stupid, she tended to be right.

"Hey–" Thyme protested.

"Seconded," Crimson agreed.

Aquamarine and Sunflower quickly joined in with "thirded," and "fourthed," which Topaz wasn't certain were real words. After a small pause, the entire group turned to look expectantly at Azure. She twitched back, eyes flicking between them, before gradually relaxing and slowly turning toward Thyme.

"Fifthed and sixthed," Azure whispered, smiling.

Thyme clutched her own chest, melodramatically fell backward, yelped in alarm, and managed to turn toppling off the cot into an impressive backward roll instead of a blatant mistake. She finished on her back, staring at the rafters with a piteous expression.

"Betrayed," Thyme groaned. "Betrayed by all those whom I trusted most! Et tu, Azure?"

Thyme's expression quickly transitioned to a smile after the team rewarded her with a round of snickering.

"No, but seriously," Thyme said, levering herself back up and walking toward the group. "Hear me out. So, Empire law states that the hosts of 'gods' are legally supposed to become heir to the throne, right? Unless another 'avatar' is already occupying that spot."

"Immediately," Crimson confirmed. "There's even precedent for supplanting another candidate mid-coronation, when one goddess apparently really didn't like the current Crown Prince."

Crimson paused before sighing and finishing her historical anecdote.

"I think that avatar was assassinated a few years later," Crimson admitted, "but she was at least crowned Dark Empress in the interim."

Thyme winced and retook her seat beside Aquamarine.

"Right," Thyme said, suddenly seeming much less enthusiastic about her plan. "But, I mean, the local aristocracy is on the chopping block anyway, and I think we've demonstrated that their assassination attempts don't work so well on us so long as we stay transformed. Plus, nobody except Magenta knows that we weren't born in the empire, now do they?"

There was a small, expectant pause.

"And whooooo happens to share her head with a friendly aether entity?" Thyme prompted, back to grinning eagerly.

Several seconds passed before the group collectively turned toward Azure. The azure-haired beanpole looked back at them with wide, horrified blue eyes and fisted hands pressed against her thighs, sitting so stiffly that a gentle breeze could probably knock her over. If the Rainbows hadn't restored the half-wrecked orphanage before settling in, Azure would even be exposed to such threatening winds.

Topaz promptly whipped her gaze back to Thyme's delusional form.

"You want us to present Azure as Crown Princess?" Topaz asked incredulously.

Azure flinched and began waving her hands through the air as though batting away insects.

"No, no, no, no, no, absolutely not!" Azure chanted, then flinched again as her possessive hitchhiker presumably chimed in. "No, Midnight, I kn-know you're joking, but you do not get a vote! I refuse!"

"You can just be a temporary figurehead–" Thyme tried.

"Midnight is a g-ghost, not a g-goddess!" Azure wailed. "This is how you end up s-smote, not successful!"

---

---

If there was one benefit to being an Umbral Elite Captain, it was the housing arrangements. Typically, only nobility were granted the position; I'd only been promoted so far by virtue of being one of the last officers living and loyal. Regulations had long since been adjusted accordingly: I often ended up sleeping undisturbed in a noble's guest rooms, one or two guards resting nearby, while the bulk of my subordinates had to stay at inns, tents, barracks, or in structures forfeited to the throne when their former owners were found guilty of treason.

(And those would stay the options. Even if the law allowed it, common citizens already possessed too little for us to demand quartering as well.)

I sighed and burrowed deeper into the unreasonably plush blankets, squishy mattress, and poofy pillows of my current bed. The Rainbow revolution wouldn't be half as wearying if my sleeping arrangements were always this unreasonably lavish. Alas, even an officer commission wasn't able to conjure a noble's bedding while we were on the road.

…Or, well. Plenty of my predecessors had forced their subordinates to carry oversized palanquins on the march. The one time I'd been ordered to carry one by Umbral Captain Callous Countess, Joy had been so thoroughly incandescent with rage that the world around us had noticeably brightened. Fortunately for everyone, the Callous Countess took the oddly bright world as a sign that the Rainbows were nearer than reported and was reluctant to risk her precious bedding. When no foes manifested by nightfall, Callous Countess had not been pleased, but her petty tantrum and demands were preferable to having Joy finally snap and abandon all restraint.

I might feel guilty about not sharing the same sleeping arrangements as my troops, but Joy had — I couldn't say 'put her foot down,' because we still weren't sure she actually had any, but the sentiment stood. She'd decreed that I was not to refuse what 'few' luxuries the Empire deigned to grant me, and had threatened to start chewing on chainmail if I refused.

Really, Joy was a terrible influence in general. As far as she was concerned, I was meant to be the Crown Princess; no matter what luxuries or privileges I was granted, they would still be lesser than what she thought I 'deserved.'

'Because they are,' Joy complained. 'You should be able to wear whatever you want, whenever you want, and eat to your heart's content. You shouldn't need to work, or toil, or worry, or fight. You're mine, and it's infuriating that you should have to hide that; the Shaded Empire was founded specifically to serve avatars.'

It was an old argument between us, but one that had long since exhausted all possibility of venom. Joy hadn't started with any inherent respect for mortal lives, and initially only cared about me; she'd refrained from risking massive collateral damage and loss of life because I'd asked her not to. In the years that we'd grown up together, seeing other mortals suffer alongside me did help her — or perhaps both of us — develop a sense of empathy, although she was still quick to condemn those who displeased her.

A ponderous, heavy knock at the door signaled the conclusion of my break, and I grumbled under my breath. I was much too comfortable for this nonsense, and although I'd had trouble learning to rise with the Sun instead of the stars, I thought I'd had a pretty good grasp on the Sun's timing by now. It shouldn't be up just yet.

Still, Gray wouldn't bother me if it wasn't important, so I reluctantly started pushing away enveloping blankets and smooth sheets that almost seemed to fight against my efforts. 'Come back to sleep,' they seemed to beg. 'Whatever that is, it can wait a few more hours. Gray is better at organization anyway.'

Unfortunately for those silken sirens, officers in my position tended to be quite good at ignoring begging. I slid out of bed and staggered toward the door, rubbing fatigue from my eyes and hoping that Gray carried good news for once.

'I would offer to eat the messenger if this was for something frivolous, but Gray isn't bad enough for that,' Joy halfheartedly complained.

As expected, Gray stood on the other side of the door, his usual smile replaced with apparent indifference. That was never a good sign. Even more ominous was how his gaze remained firmly fixed on my face despite how I remained in nightclothes. When Gray was in a good mood and relaxed, his gaze would usually drift at least a little before he caught himself.

"Captain," Gray said, saluting and offering me an unfortunately familiar black envelope.

Traitor-Problem, signaled a shadow hidden by the high collar of his uniform.

I grimaced and took the missive from the Crown. Both a visual inspection and umbral pulse confirmed that the purple seal was genuine. I reluctantly formed a letter knife from the shadow cast by my middle finger, broke the seal, and withdrew the umbra-saturated parchment within. As always, the relative lack of contrast between purple ink and black parchment would have made reading my orders an exercise in frustration if I didn't first enhance my eyes with a trickle of umbra.




'The letter wasn't written recently,' Joy murmured, and my forehead further furrowed.

Past turnaround times on recalls made me suspect that the Shaded Palace had the Dark Empress's most infamous spies, Wraiths, planted either in the platoon itself or as part of our support staff. I'd hoped to never receive confirmation of pre-written orders, though, and I couldn't understand the underlying reasoning. We'd succeeded yesterday. Unless the problem was that the platoon had killed Magentism under Gray's command, while we'd only repelled the Rainbows under my own? Surely it couldn't be that; we'd succeeded in our objective of protecting the umbralla for the time being.

If we were very, very lucky, the Crown would finally open the Royal Vaults of Nacht and grant me the use of at least one of those masterpieces. In particular, I thought that the rod of Dark Empress Hafdís II, if released to me, might finally let me prevail against the Rainbows. Changing my weapon's form tended to consume the bulk of my umbra in any given fight, to say nothing of how I remained constrained by the shape of real weapons. Minimizing that consumption would open a whole new world of options for letting me properly close the distance and harry my foes.

I really doubted that was the plan, though. I'd long subscribed to the belief that the contents of the Royal Vaults had long since broken. Seals were supposed to perfectly preserve the contents of the vaults, but how likely was it that someone over the centuries had decided to embezzle funds from enchantments that nobody in their lifetime would require or check?

Even on the off chance that I would be praised for doing the best of anyone fighting the Rainbows to date, my absence from the front would still pose problems. Gray possessed the supernatural sturdiness typical of all gargoyles, and he could fly for short stints of time. That didn't change the fact that mobility was necessary to counter them; any mortal attempting a contest of power would lose. For nacht's sake, the Rainbows had somehow managed to overpower the Abyssal Drake, and that infamous behemoth had been known for scouring inconvenient towns clean in one bladed breath.

Lieutenant Gray continued the unblinking, breathless vigil of a nervous gargoyle. I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand, still holding my problematic summons with the other.

"At ease," I sighed. "I'm guessing that you already received and read your own orders?"

Gray grimaced and nodded, relaxing from his stiff salute.

"I've been ordered to assume control of the Elites in your absence," Gray confirmed. "Listen, Captain—you're far from the most imposing combatant, but we all know that the situation would, will become, much worse without you harrying the Rainbows at every turn."

Gray bit his own lip to the unpleasant grating of grinding stone. It still amazed me that biting himself wasn't actually painful for him; it certainly sounded awful enough. After several seconds of hesitation, he slowly reached inside his coat and produced a leather pouch dyed the same shade of gray as his own skin.

I started to tilt my head quizzically; I didn't see how giving or requesting a bribe from me would help matters right now. Before I could even finish the motion, however, he thrust the pouch toward me with one shaking arm.

"Take it, please," he hissed through gritted teeth.

I hurriedly accepted the pouch from his hands, trusting that it wasn't some manner of cursed object, and found my arm plummeting in the moment before I properly compensated for its unexpectedly heavy weight. The conspicuous, cloth-muffled jingling of coins sounded through the empty hall.

My brain promptly tried to figure out just how much gold might be inside the pouch Gray handed me, and came up woefully short. More than everything I'd earned prior to becoming an Umbral Captain, I was sure. Possibly less than the unreasonable sums I would have earned since my promotion if the bureaucracy wasn't being difficult about releasing such large sums to a commoner; they kept claiming that I would need to provide written, signed, and sealed permission from the head of my noble house in order to access my own moon-damned accounts. At this point, I was fairly certain that someone out there was hoping I'd die and they could abscond with everything.

Lieutenant Gray Onyx wasn't a noble himself, but members of his clan were embedded as assistants to a significant portion of the aristocracy. Gray previously assured me that their influence was highly limited, and that it was merely traditional to lavishly award assistants who loyally protected one from assassins even when it was not their official job to do so. Considering how slow Gray's handwriting was, and how most gargoyles were similarly sluggish, I could read between the lines: the Onyx clan made quite a bit of money by being unofficial bodyguards to the rich and powerful.

'I bet they'd be happy to keep an avatar safe,' Joy muttered.

Which would be nice if we could afford them, but as we cannot, the point is moot.

At any rate, I doubted Gray had ever received any such rewards himself. Acquiring so much money would require him to stick his neck out and convince his clan that I was worth a rather sizable investment. From what I understood of families, this could get him killed if he guessed wrong.

"While I would never presume to speak for Her Dark Majesty," Gray said carefully, "the Crown—usually elects to let the subjects of summons cool their heels for several weeks after their arrival in the Capital. That should be enough time for you to commission suitable court attire. It would not do for our Captain to be seen as anything other than properly respectful of both our beloved Dark Empress and venerable members of the Shaded Court of Dusk."

I found my eyes repeatedly flicking between Gray and his gift. He wasn't smiling, wasn't bothering to try to reassure me. He was risking himself for a chance that his aid might help me survive the Imperial Court. Perhaps he assumed that he'd be brainwashed via 'purification' after my departure, but I'd never known him to be that pessimistic; he'd seek to ensure his own survival until the very end.

Honestly. What kind of a coward would I have to be, to ignore such loyalty? What kind of friend would let Gray's leap of faith end with him shattered on the ground?

Joy, you said that the letter wasn't new. How well can you sense it, exactly?

'Between all the alchemical tweaks and being flooded with umbra, I think it's pretty distinctive?'

Joy paused and followed my trail of thought.

'Oh, I like this plan,' Joy purred. 'I really like this plan.'

"You know," I said aloud. "Just yesterday, Studious Sunflower went and called me the second-greatest obstacle to their ultimate victory, second only to the Empress. Before that, Adorable Aquamarine said I was harder to deal with than the Abyssal Drake. With all due respect to our excellent Platoon, I'm inclined to believe the Rainbows' analysis and that the front would collapse quite quickly in my absence."

Gray winced and glanced away.

"Orders are orders, Captain," he said uncomfortably.

"If legitimate," I agreed, and let the inconvenient evidence fall from my hands.

Go ahead.

Giddy cackling echoed through my head, and the world around us suddenly seemed both darker and smaller. The umbra-infused missive and envelope did not so much disappear as disintegrate over the course of a scant second, parchment and umbra both seeming to tear themselves to increasingly minuscule shreds before vanishing from three-dimensional existence altogether. The odd feeling of being too large for my skin disappeared alongside them, but light was slow to return and reality continued to tremble.

Poor thing. The world didn't have to be so scared; Joy wouldn't hurt it. Much, or often.

"C-Captain," Gray stuttered, wide eyes staring in horror at the patch of still-settling space where an imperial missive had once been. "What in the abyss have you done?"

I clapped Gray on the shoulder and gave him the bright smile of one who should be thoroughly doomed, but knew that the abyss was both on her side and the best partner I could ever ask for. My palm didn't even sting from slapping solid stone, and that, too, was Joy's doing.

'Aww, I love you, too!'

Really, I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this relentlessly happy. We'd just committed high treason, and I felt quite confident that we would get away with it. It was, after all, entirely plausible that embezzlement of alchemical supplies had resulted in parchment that would dissolve after being fed too much umbra rather than releasing the excess like it was supposed to. I didn't even have to feel guilty about possibly dooming whoever was in charge of that process! It was managed by the Duchess of Stolen Solstices, and she was a horrible person!

"Me? I did nothing," I said cheerfully, pushing the gifted bag of gold back into his unresisting hands. "The only magical acts I performed were to test the alleged summons with umbra, as per protocol. Oh, and to enhance my eyes with umbra, for ease of reading and detection of possible forgeries, of course. That the letter dissolved soon afterward is, I think, indicative of a convincing forgery, but one that nonetheless did not pass muster. The forgery was quite old, too; they've clearly been waiting for quite a while."

Gray unconsciously licked his lips even though I was ninety percent sure he didn't produce any saliva to speak of.

"T-They'll–" Gray stuttered, rattled. "Standard procedure is for missives to be filed in triplicate! There are still copies!"

"'Not anymore,'" Joy and I said in sync, and it was so.

Gray squeaked like his stone skin had been slathered in soap, staring at Us with wide eyes. We, on the other hand, belatedly realized that Our voice hadn't been solely inside Our head that time. We should probably be worried about that, in all honesty, but We didn't expect Gray to betray Us and any other eavesdroppers wouldn't be reporting back any time soon.

We hesitated, and after a moment of thought, belatedly remembered that We were supposed to be myself and I. Thought became action, and I blinked back to awareness. Gray continued to stare fixedly at a point above my head, a nervous gulp the only visible motion across his entire body. Glancing up didn't reveal anything above me, so I mentally shrugged and dismissed it as an attempt to avoid eye contact without risking accusations of ogling.

"Sorry," I brazenly lied, reestablishing eye contact. "Had to use umbra to soothe a dry throat. At any rate, I should recommend double-checking your own alleged orders—oh, good."

I hadn't even finished my sentence before Gray was reaching inside his own coat and, apparently, failing to find whatever orders had once existed there. He didn't even bother with a thorough search of all pockets before withdrawing his hand, face stony.

The gargoyle closed his eyes and appeared to take a long, deep breath despite how he needed no air, and indeed, had no heartbeat to speak of. By the time he opened his eyes again, much of his usual good mood seemed to have been restored. I thought it more likely that he was largely pretending. I wouldn't be so rude as to point it out; masks were an essential survival skill for those in the Shaded Empire.

"I suppose," Gray said dryly, only the slightest lingering tremble in his voice, "that the next item of business is to find the traitor who dared to forge orders from Her Dark Majesty?"

"Oh, I wouldn't bother," I dismissed. "I'm sure that if there's a real Wraith who happens to have legitimate orders for us, they'll be sure to make their opinions known in short order. In the meantime, I do believe that I should go get changed."

I unceremoniously shut the door in Gray's face and spun to put word to deed.



As an Umbral Elite Captain, it was expected that I would break my fast with the Baroness of Little Shade. Once the 1st Umbral Elite were garrisoned in Little Shade, she'd even switched from a sensible nocturnal schedule to a diurnal one solely so that she could harass me.

After going through and destroying official orders from the Shaded Palace, though, I was in far too good of a mood to let the Baroness' whinging and sniping ruin it. I strode away from the doors of her manor with a simple murkey sandwich hastily assembled by the kitchen staff. However, actually eating the waxpaper-wrapped package's contents could wait until I'd reached the military mess hall. I somehow suspected that I wouldn't be allowed to finish, and I would hate to let flies steal my meal while I was busy.

A heavy thud heralded Gray landing beside me, the gargoyle seamlessly transitioning from flight to loping along on both clawed feet and one arm. His spare arm held a bag that I knew from experience would be filled with a variety of stone chunks, or powder if he was eating in a hurry.

"Captain!" a thin, reedy voice called from behind us.

Speak of the Archon and they shall come.

My refusal to slow down forced Quartermaster Edmund to hurry and match our pace, huffing and puffing from the exertion. It truly was obvious that he usually rode with the supplies rather than marching alongside us. Really, imagine someone in the imperial army managing to put on bulk during a campaign. He didn't even have the resources of a viscount to rely on; he'd long since been disowned. Something about inexcusable drunken indiscretions, if I recalled correctly.

"Ah, captain," he gasped out. "Your wagon is — is behind the Countess' manor. You're going the — the wrong way."

Gray pretended that his bark of laughter was merely him choking on his food. Or maybe he actually was choking, but since he didn't need to breathe, I didn't spare more than a moment of worry for him.

Well, that had been even easier than anticipated. I'd assumed that enemy action would at least try to gather backup first.

Unless I was very much mistaken, Edmund was the Wraith monitor responsible for sending so many of my fellow soldiers to be executed for their 'failures.' True, many of those soldiers hadn't been exemplary, but they were at least adequate, and could have served the Empire quite well in a lesser unit. Edmund should have come to me, not indirectly murdered my people.

I settled for raising an imperious eyebrow rather than the snarl that wanted to break free from my throat. Joy was doing more than enough growling for the both of us even if Edmund couldn't hear it. Gray, for his part, pretended to be more interested in popping chunks of stone into his mouth rather than the discussion at hand.

"Why, whatever are you talking about?" I asked innocently, granting a smile that should have sent alarm bells ringing in the head of any competent Wraith.

I suddenly wondered if their terrifying reputation was less born of competence and more from frequent internal purges. That Edmund's face was starting to redden with aggravation seemed to support my latest guess.

"Your return orders, Captain," he snapped. "I know that I received orders to expedite your recall, and can't imagine that the Wraiths would be so negligent as to put off delivering their mirror to you."

"Ah, yes," I stalled as we approached the oversized double doors of the Elites' mess hall. "The umbra-infused message in a black envelope that I received this morning. Tell me, quartermaster, you are capable of at least rudimentary use of umbra, are you not?"

"Of course I am!" he hissed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

I pushed open the mess hall's doors rather than answering, striding into the loud hubbub of gossiping Elites. As expected of the empire's best, a good half-dozen of those facing me were quick to abandon their meals and start climbing free of the benches. Others followed their example without even seeing me, only the urgency in their comrades' movements.

"Don't bother to rise, and feel free to keep eating," I called into the spreading silence. "I would apologize for interrupting your meals, but I'm afraid that treason isn't something that can afford to wait."

What few whispers remained were rather neatly snuffed out, and nobody took my offer to resume their meals. A few did sit back down, but they were a distinct minority. Gray, realizing my intent, wordlessly shifted to stand between Edmund and the street.

"Treason?" Edmund asked blankly.

I let my smile drop in favor of the scorn I felt, shifting to place one hand on my rapier. Killing him would cause all sorts of problems, but it was expected that I should remind him of the option.

"Quartermaster Edmund here," I said evenly, "seems to have decided that it would be a fine idea to forge orders from the Shaded Palace."

Much of my platoon obligingly produced scandalized and/or horrified gasps. Edmund, for his part, was gaping at me as though I'd grown an extra head.

'I like it in here too much.'

I forced down a smile that would be completely inappropriate for the situation at hand. I'd worked hard to avoid the reputation for sadism shared by so many umbral officers.

And I'm very happy to share, but please don't make me grin right now.

"Recall orders, specifically," I continued. "And, credit to the Rainbow Rebellion's forgers, it did look legitimate — which I suppose shouldn't be surprising, given their familiarity with blatant lies. Where the forgery failed was in its ability to hold umbra; the missive disintegrated soon after I utilized more power than strictly required by protocol, just to be certain."

The outraged red in Edmund's face soon fled in favor of a pale pallor, and his gaze flicked to my sheathed rapier. I couldn't stop an amused twitch of my lips. I'd been trying to cover my bases, not convince him that I intended a public execution.

"There is a copy back in my quarters!" Edmund said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. "If you would let me fetch that so that it can be tested with witnesses…?"

I snorted.

"The Rainbows take pride in never leaving anyone behind," I drawled. "And you want me to trust you, a possible spy for their cause, to fetch your evidence? How stupid do you think we are? Your quarters will be searched, of course, and I'll even be so generous as to let you pick two Elites to oversee the effort. But I am not letting you retrieve some holdout weapon, or worse, signal for extraction."

Edmund huffed, seemingly forgetting his terror in favor of fresh aggravation. His arm started to move toward a satchel at his waist, apparently forgetting how such a movement could be interpreted by soldiers. Gray lunged forward and caught a flinching Edmund's arm before he could even release the satchel's clasp. Edmund yelped and continued to struggle for the better part of two seconds before seeming to realize why Gray had stopped him.

"Oh, for Her Majesty's sake," Edmund spat. "I'm retrieving my damnable badge. Try to dismiss that, why don't you?"

I mentally revised my estimate of his intelligence ever lower. Emergency identity verification was considered essential for a Wraith, true, but to keep it on him? Good grief. It would serve him right if some pickpocket or cutpurse claimed it.

"By all means," I allowed, waving Gray away. "But I do hope you remember my position. Think twice before attempting anything you shouldn't."

Edmund huffed and resumed moving, this time with exaggerated slowness. Before the eyes of most of my platoon, he flipped his satchel open and withdrew a jagged-edged silver badge of office from the smallest pocket. An iridescent drop of adamantine, so small that it could barely even cover the head of a needle, sat proudly in its center and served as one of the most effective anti-forging methods known to the Empire.

Edmund triumphantly held the badge aloft, slowly tilting its surface so that the platoon could see the shining droplet, before doing something that almost got him killed on the spot. Apparently, he was actually dumb enough to throw the badge toward the troops. Reflexes alone had me flooding my body with umbra and rushing to intercept, batting the possible explosive toward an empty corner of the hall. Edmund's badge hit the far wall with a solid thunk and unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

The platoon collectively waited with bated breath for several seconds before turning our unimpressed gazes on the red-faced idiot beside me.

"Are you trying to get us to kill you, or are you just that stupid?" I demanded before shaking my head. "Don't answer that. Someone test the damn thing, would you? Preferably from a distance, we still can't be sure that it's not set to trigger some curse or another."

"Hendrick first," Edmund demanded, probably outing a fellow Wraith without a second thought.

The Elite in question directed an especially aggrieved look in Edmund's direction, but obligingly drew a throwing knife and flooded the steel with enough umbra to make it appear as a solid orb of darkness. Rather than an underhand toss, Hendrick melodramatically reared back before throwing the overcharged weapon with more than enough force to warp the silver plate housing the adamantine bead even if the adamantine itself would remain intact.

Or would stay intact if we weren't cheating, anyway. Hendrick's dagger struck tip-first, instantly funneling umbra into its target and, as designed, turning the abruptly-airborne badge pitch-black. What was not intended was how the entire badge twisted in on itself, an easily overlooked trail of shaking space left in its wake, before obligingly bursting apart with a flare of inky darkness. Metal shards pinged off the nearest wall, skittered across the floor, and even plopped into more than one half-finished drink.

Clearly, adamantine's claim to 'indestructibility' was made by someone who'd never let a goddess bite their creation.

'Chomp,' Joy intoned solemnly.

Surprise kept me from suppressing my bark of laughter. At least I had an alibi this time.

"Well, would you look at that," I said, still snickering. "Another forgery. Did you truly think we wouldn't bother to check? You should have cut your losses rather than doubling down after the first forgery failed."

I shook my head and turned to address the rest of my platoon.

"The Imperial Palace is not filled with complete imbeciles!" I barked, lying through my teeth. "If I was to be recalled, where is my replacement? Effectively delaying the Rainbows requires levels of endurance and mobility possessed by very few, and while Gray is a fine officer, he is not among their number!"

I turned the full force of my unimpressed glare on the moronic man who'd almost decimated what little chance of victory the Shaded Empire still possessed.

"As there is still a minuscule chance that you truly are a loyal agent intended to take the fall for another," I bit out, "you will, of course, be sent to the Spired City on the next scheduled prisoner transport."

Edmund swallowed heavily and tore his gaze from the shattered remnants of his badge. It took him another few seconds to comprehend my words, and longer still for him to muster speech.

"The Rainbows are fanatic about refusing to let anyone take prisoners," Edmund said slowly. "There aren't any transports scheduled."

"Holding any captured Rainbows is quite difficult, isn't it?" I pointedly agreed. "I'm afraid you might be waiting a while until we find enough traitors to justify sending you off. Perhaps the wait will make you more amenable to confessing your crimes."

Caution once again gave way to anger, and I was forced to wonder how the ex-quartermaster survived this long. Then again, he was the disowned son of a viscount; Edmund arguably hadn't so much 'survived' as delayed his downfall by virtue of having a title to lose before his head.

"It matters not. You're too late, Violet," he spat, rounding on me. "I don't know when you replaced my badge, but I've already reported your true identity to the Spired City. Let's see you talk your way out of that."

I blinked and tried to make sense of his words. It took me a moment to remember the epiphany the Rainbows seemed to have yesterday, and another second to chop apart my darkname until Edmund's words made sense. That was why Edmund decided to utilize pre-written recall orders? Seriously? Not because of my performance, but because of a quirk of language?

"Are you an idiot?" I felt compelled to ask.

Edmund spluttered, and I cast my gaze toward the crowd of bemused soldiers. A good half of them had even retaken their seats and resumed eating, wariness thoroughly obliterated by seeing Edmund's 'forgery' break apart. Now the situation was simply free entertainment.

"Jenkins!" I barked.

A brown-haired human jumped to attention from the closest bench. Somehow, Jenkins' leathers managed to look shiny and new rather than appropriately worn by extensive use.

"Ma'am!"

My lips twitched. Somehow, there was always a different Jenkins in every unit I'd ever joined, academy classes included. I would assume that it was an Intel pseudonym if not for their clear familial relations. As it stood, I could only conclude that the entire family tumbled like drabbits, a hypothesis strongly supported by (this) Corporal Jenkins' occasional whinging about sending money back home and tendency to flirt with every receptive barmaid he could find.

"At ease," I ordered. "Do share with this utter imbecile why I'm called 'Versatile Violence.'"

Jenkins relaxed and turned an unimpressed gaze on our former quartermaster.

"Umbral Captain Versatile Violence, then Cadet Eskarne," Jenkins stressed, "was bestowed her darkname after being erroneously denied an imbued weapon for use during her Pre-Graduation Gauntlet. After a single victory unarmed, and a second using the sand of the arena, Cadet Eskarne made a point of freehand forming a different umbral weapon for each of her eleven remaining matches, winning each and every one."

"Seven of those matches," I corrected. "The other four combatants conceded, pleading preexisting injuries."

"Cowards," I heard someone mumble.

I tried not to wince. Those four had, in all honesty, been the smartest of the bunch. Endurance gauntlets were ludicrously lopsided in my favor; Joy couldn't feed me more than a trickle of umbra without noticeably affecting reality, but even that much was enough to make a difference over the course of multiple hours. Her discreet healing of subsurface injuries made the situation even more unfair. Really, given my advantages, force-feeding sand to Heir Salamander until he finally choked out a forfeit had been a bit excessive.

'Nostalgia is making you misremember,' Joy deadpanned. 'Full healing of all but the most blatant injuries was standard for the noble kiddies, and the stupid lizard had been threatening to maim you for months.'

Ah, right. The cheating little sh–

"In conclusion," Jenkins said, drawing me from aggravated reminiscence, "it's patently absurd to attempt to claim that the Captain is secretly some eighth member of the Rainbow Rebels. She did not pick her name, and her birth name isn't related to any color whatsoever, let alone some shade of purple."

"Thank you, Corporal," I said briskly. "And might I add that the Rainbows all share certain color-coded traits that I very much do not?"

I pointedly tugged at my own black hair before waving to emphasize my equally common yellow eyes.

"Honestly," I huffed. "I can't believe I was pulled from bed over this nonsense. Lieutenant Gray, do make sure that the prisoner's ledgers are thoroughly checked and quarters searched for any secret versions. Given what he just tried to pull, it wouldn't surprise me if he'd been indulging in longer-term sabotage via theft of Imperial property."

I already knew the answer, of course. Mild embezzlement was considered to be an unofficial job perk of imperial quartermasters; one of the instructors had even brought it up as a reason that I should change tracks, claiming that it would be a shame to let me waste away in a common infantry position that wouldn't even offer me a pension. Embezzlement was viewed as technically illegal, but very much expected, and the 'important' part was being able to pass casual inspection.

I would be shocked if my platoon's spite-motivated search would be anything approaching casual. We were a scant week's march away from the capital, and couldn't afford to yield much more ground lest we risk vital imperial infrastructure. Losing even a single one of the Spired City's umbrallas would be devastating beyond words, especially with winter rapidly approaching.

"Captain," Gray acknowledged, saluting.

I whirled on one foot, intending to stomp away and start actually eating. Instead, I was just in time to see a sweating scout slide down a drainpipe and sprint toward me. I glanced mournfully at my still-wrapped sandwich, fully aware of what it meant when a scout appeared at a dead run.

"Captain!" Specialist Lukas gasped out. "All six–"

A chorus of dropped utensils clattered behind me.

"–Rainbows are approaching with a black flag!"

The sounds of hasty movement ceased. I looked to Gray and saw my incredulity mirrored in his own expression. What, exactly, possessed the Rainbows to try again after each and every attempt was met with an ambush in accordance with imperial policy? It wasn't like the Rainbows would return the favor; they were too full of themselves to attempt a false parley, and the Shaded Empire would burn before it granted even the smallest of concessions.

"You know," I mused aloud, "standard imperial policy is that the Rainbow Rebellion is comprised entirely of honorless curs who don't deserve parley. At the same time, however, we just rooted out a probable Rainbow spy–"

I nodded toward a silently seething, tight-fisted Edmund.

"–and the timing is quite suspect. If we hadn't caught the forgeries, I would be on my way to the capital by now."

I clapped my hands and smiled at my subordinates.

"So, why don't we go see what the Rainbows think they're up to, and why they wanted to get rid of me now rather than at any other time over the last several months? On your feet, ladies; I encourage you to bring your food with you, but I still want lookouts along the sunlit rift just in case their followers try something. Lieutenant Gray, I'll let you work out the specifics as usual."

I spun on one heel and stalked toward the town plaza, fighting the urge to skip as I went. Who knows, maybe the Rainbows realized they were doing more harm than good and wanted a ceasefire while they figured things out. Unlikely, to be sure, but without Magenta present to whisper poison in their ears, I was at least willing to acknowledge it as possible.

'You, um,' Joy said slowly. 'You really don't remember, do you?'

I turned a corner and finally unwrapped my food. It was tempting to hold off and eat during the meeting solely as a show of disrespect, but down that path laid fighting on an empty stomach.

Remember what? I absentmindedly asked, happily biting into my breakfast.

'Before we agreed to change them to avoid unwanted attention, you did have violet hair and eyes.'

I choked and almost fell flat on my face.

---

AN: The first three chapters now have attached bloopers. Enjoy!

Beta-read by @Vebyast.

---

Crimson tried not to fidget too much while she sat on the lip of Little Shade's central fountain, waiting for her crush Versatile Violence to arrive. Aquamarine and Sunflower were busy trying to give an anxious Azure yet another pep talk, Thyme was pulling flowers from her own hair and tossing them into the fountain, and Topaz was timidly people-watching as usual.

For her part, Crimson was supposedly concentrating on maintaining a tactical map of the surrounding area to make extra sure that the 1st Umbral Elite didn't try anything elsewhere in town — like, say, assembling siege weaponry or setting fires — while the Rainbows waited for Versatile Violence to arrive.

In truth, maintaining the map only took a fragment of Crimson's attention. The rest of Crimson was busy trying to keep her own mind running in circles rather than conjuring theories that might prove problematic.

"You know," Thyme said quietly, apparently deciding that Versatile Violence's subordinates were non-threatening enough for her to relax. "If you leaned back juuuust a little bit, I'm confident that you'd be more than capable of drawing Violence's eye."

By toppling into the fountain. Well, you aren't wrong.

Crimson's eyes flicked up to verify that they were, in fact, still surrounded by the glowing grid of Azure's sound-negating sphere. They'd probably have to ditch it when V.V. got close enough; the mere uncertainty of not directly hearing the subjects of even innocuous discussions with V.V. would send some Imperial agents into a frothing rage. How much of that could be blamed on umbra, Crimson wasn't sure.

Having verified that they could safely gossip, Crimson looked up from her map and raised an eyebrow at her smiling teammate.

"I don't need a wet tunic to draw attention," Crimson retorted, raising her head with mock arrogance. "My excellent looks are good enough to do that for me."

Which was complete bul—complete nonsense, because every member of the Rainbows had been airbrushed and altered by their transformations. Risk of assassination was, if anything, at the bottom of the list of reasons why none of them had changed back to civilian form in quite some time. Azure especially; Crimson doubted their resident 'avatar' and illusionist would ever willingly revert until they could find a good, trustworthy flesh-sculptor to work on her. So, possibly never.

By now, Crimson was fairly confident that someone had tried to beat the gender out of Azure. Azure had stared at her own hands and arms with too much happiness, too many times, to say nothing of how giddy Azure often got after seeing her own reflection or while playing with different sets of illusory clothing. Crimson would never share her suspicions, though; that was Azure's business.

"Mmmh," Thyme agreed, smiling. "I'll admit to enjoying looking at both of your forms."

Annnd dammit, point to Thyme. Bringing Crimson's civilian form into this was just plain unfair; like seemingly everyone in this group, Crimson would admit to some insecurity surrounding her original looks.

Topaz shifted uncomfortably from her seated position flanking Thyme, and in so doing, reminded Crimson of Topaz's presence before Crimson could conjure a response. Crimson internally winced and started thinking of how to shift the conversation more toward "joking" than "flirty."

Topaz had started out so far in the closet that she couldn't even see the light, and it was only more recently that she'd started to relax and edge close enough to the door for Crimson to realize that Topaz did, in fact, seem to be in the closet. She presented a situation that would need to be handled carefully, and Crimson was glad that Thyme carefully avoided any insinuations about Topaz even if the rest of them were acceptable targets.

Admittedly, Crimson wasn't going to complain about being 'targeted' that way, although Crimson had yet to figure out if Thyme was solely joking or if she was actually flirting. Crimson hoped it was the latter, but had opted against exploring any romantic possibilities until they were back on Earth. Crimson would need to settle for the venerable queer tradition of extensively daydreaming whilst refusing to take risks.

"Isn't it — uncomfortable," Topaz said hesitantly, "flir—saying those things when you know she has a crush on Violence?"

Good grief, but that avoidance is familiar.

Throughout puberty, the now-named 'Curious Crimson,' once Casey Keyes, had been uncomfortable with, and upset by, what she'd viewed as the invading encroachment of hormones upon her imagination. Her fantasies of magic and marvels so often reoriented to acts that society disapproved of even discussing, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. It wasn't until her sophomore year of high school that Casey finally stopped pretending that sex didn't exist, with her junior and (start of) senior years arguably leading to her being corrupted by the Internet.

The last seven months had done an excellent job of helping Crimson relax further still. A world of wonder, full of exotic situations and mysterious magics that demanded her full attention to explore, with much less room for sexualized fantasies. Or, you know. Explore if anyone would actually answer her damn questions.

Magentism frequently shut Crimson down and told her to stop getting distracted whenever she tried learning about anything outside the magic she was 'supposed' to be studying at that time. The other natives avoided subjects with what Crimson had initially thought of as 'exhausting NPC dialogue trees.' In all honesty, Crimson — still wasn't totally convinced that most people in this realm were properly real rather than the constructed, non-sapient, non-sentient creations of some magical species or god with too much power and free time. Crimson knew it was all too possible.

She'd obviously kept her mouth shut about her uncertainty, and never doubted that at least the Rainbows were real, but Crimson had viewed this world as something of a bored god's game all the way up to their second fight with Umbral Elite Captain Versatile Violence. Fighting Violence had finally (mostly) convinced Crimson that the recalcitrance in answering Crimson's questions wasn't because Crimson was trying to go off the intended path, but because these people were used to authority figures being able and willing to hurt them.

Provide an answer that Crimson didn't like, and she might hurt them. Provide an answer that she did like, or any answer at all, and they might be killed for 'treason' should the Rainbow Revolution fail. Or even if locals drew enough attention by helping more than the bare minimum, really; it was thoroughly baffling, but some intelligence agents just — kept working for the Empire even after they'd been purified. Crimson supposed that was a good sign as far as free will was concerned, yet it remained remarkably problematic.

(Magenta, of course, told Crimson not to worry about the literal backstabbers. Even though, y'know, Crimson's magic was based on gathering information. She could've helped.)

"Not — really?" Thyme finally said, drawing Crimson from her fuming. "They're not currently in any sort of relationship, and if they entered into a strictly monogamous relationship or seemed like they were going that direction, I would stop. That's not the only option, though, you know?"

Topaz didn't respond, and Crimson could almost hear her thought process: to lie and cover something she thought was embarrassing, or admit her ignorance? Given the subject matter, Topaz was more likely to admit ignorance than not, but it was always a coin flip with her. Not that Crimson could blame Topaz for that, and indeed, Crimson was still playing with the idea of having a serious discussion with Topaz's 'Aunt and Uncle' if they ever tried to contact Topaz again. Depending on whether or not they accepted cutting contact, Crimson might make it into the last discussion those two monsters ever had. Or maybe she'd settle for cursing them.

"You are allowed to admit you don't know things," Thyme said gently, and promptly moved on before Topaz could try to apologize. "So, let's preface this by saying that I don't really intend to pursue anyone until we've interacted back on Earth and know we can stand each other as part of our 'everyday' lives, whatever form that might take. Back on topic: There are 'open' relationships, but I've seen those self-destruct too many times to recommend them, so I'll explain those later. Immediately relevant to your question is that I'm polyamorous."

"Developed as a survival mechanism in the face of high rent!" Aquamarine catcalled.

"The adults are talking, Aqua!" Thyme shot back, before returning her attention to Topaz. "So, it mostly wasn't, but that is indeed a bit of a running joke. Basically, polyamory is — complicated. Let's go with 'when you don't assume a cap of two paired people that both have the other, and only that person, as their significant other.' So one of that pair might have two girlfriends, and so long as everyone was open about expectations and such, that would be totally fine. Or maybe all three loved each other, which is nicknamed a 'throuple.' Any network of more than two people in romantic relationships can qualify as a 'polycule,' though.

"If polyamory were widely adopted as the 'default' rather than monogamy, it would also tank practically every 'oh nooo, I'm in love with two people, whatever shall I do?' plotline in every TV show ever. In my opinion, it really does turn those arcs into a bit of an eye-rolling experience. But back on subject: I find that polyamory is less — exhausting, I guess? I don't worry about 'choosing,' like I said, and there's much more room for being able to experiment. The lack of exclusivity means that I can, in theory, explore compatibility with someone new without sacrificing what I already have with someone else, or what I might later be able to build with a third person."

Thyme paused for effect.

"In practice, I'm nineteen," Thyme deadpanned. "My experience is limited."

Topaz obligingly giggled, albeit nervously, and Crimson desperately hoped that Topaz wouldn't take the wrong message from Thyme not flirting with her. Or read far enough into Thyme's words and behavior to realize that her idea of a 'Best Ending' would probably be the entire team, minus Magenta, as part of one happy polycule.

Sometimes, this team really did feel like a hotbed of unresolved sexual tension and words carefully left unspoken. Crimson hadn't yet decided if she was proud of arguably being one of the primary contributors toward making said UST even worse.

"Come to think of it, do we even know if the empire practices monogamy?" Crimson mused aloud. "We know there's marriage, and we've met couples, but do we know if that's commonly viewed as the 'only' option like back home?"

Silence greeted her question. She didn't mind; for once, Crimson had intended her question as more as a rhetorical device to help Topaz consider it than because she wanted a real answer. Which was good, because Crimson felt pretty confident that the actual Rainbows would know f—nothing.

It was a constant theme: Crimson's friends didn't know any more about this world than she did, and often knew less. After some early mishaps where a few of them reflexively tried confirming understanding of subjects they didn't grasp, or just plain set off emotional landmines relating to their lives on Earth, the other Rainbows had apparently learned not to ask questions. If someone actually knew something, they'd chime in during group discussions or ask for elaboration sometime that the squad was split apart.

Crimson wasn't sure how to feel about that trend. On the one hand, honest sharing with lower frequency was probably an improvement over the society-approved automatic whitewashing that they'd started with. On the other hand, Curious Crimson was very happy to live up to her nickname, and she sometimes felt as though her brain was starving from an absence of new input.

And speaking of new input, Crimson's gaze was drawn back down by movement. On Crimson's map, the bulk of the First Umbral Platoon split into pairs of red dots spread out all along the border of the still-Curtained side of town. Observers, Crimson guessed, rather than any sort of invasion force. If the 1st Umbral Elite been intending to actually push through or otherwise plotting to break parley, they would've been in combat groups of six to seven soldiers each, not partnered pairs of observer and runner.

Lieutenant Gregoyle Gray seemingly went off to do his own thing with a trio of soldiers, which struck Crimson as a bit odd. You'd think that he would want to be here for any possible negotiations. Crimson didn't really see anything of strategic note along his path, though; as far as she could tell, he was headed toward the barracks. Or possibly the armory?

Versatile Violence, for her part, split from her troops and began what Crimson could already recognize as a long, meandering loop across town rather than anything approaching right angles. Not for the first time, Crimson wondered if V.V. possessed a stereotypical terrible sense of direction when she wasn't hopping across roofs. Nobody ever called her on it, not least because other Imperial officers seemed to suffer from the same problem, but — Versatile Violence kept acting like taking the shortest route to her destination was forbidden, even when settlement roads were laid out in grids. It was weird.

"Violence is intent on taking the scenic route, as usual," Crimson reported. "Gray is off doing his own thing, not sure what; looks like he might be headed toward their armory with three others? Four — no, six soldiers headed our way. Everyone else is splitting into groups of two and shifting to overwatch, with most spread out along the border."

"So, including the people already watching us, that's nine soldiers watching our meeting with her," Aquamarine acknowledged. "Not really ideal, is it?"

"Nine plus anyone I haven't tagged already," Crimson corrected. "Which is arguably more likely for intelligence agents keeping an eye on events rather than soldiers I knew to aim for."

Most of the Shaded Empire of Dusk followed a nocturnal schedule rather than a diurnal one, meaning that most of the people on the streets during daytime tended to be soldiers. Which you'd think would helpful, but 'most' was not nearly 'all.' Crimson couldn't just tag everyone she saw; she was still shooting people with imbued arrows to plant those tags in the first place. So far, the Rainbows were fairly confident that they'd managed to keep Crimson's mapping a secret, but that would change in a hurry if she started throwing less harmful tags at civilians.

"What a mess," Aquamarine grumbled. "What's it going to take us to get a private conversation with her? Breaking and entering?"

"If we want our spines broken," Thyme retorted, shaking her head.

"We expected this," Sunflower reminded the group as a whole. "We're right at the top of their public enemies list, and they're a tyrannical regime. The Empire always suspects everyone, even their most successful super-soldier."

There was an outbreak of grumbling, but no real objections. Crimson licked her lips and went through the mind-bending experience of simultaneously trying to form an argument while not examining the reasons behind her own argument.

"By admitting we were wrong," Crimson said slowly, "we're offering enough concessions to provide her with plenty of excuses in the event where we don't wholly convince her. I know we talked about offering ceasefires, bargaining for the right to even talk to her, all of that, but I don't — I'm really starting to think that it might not be metaphysically possible for us to win this war without her on board. So if we need to find ways to discuss treason with her while she acts like she's just fulfilling her side of the agreement, we shouldn't hesitate to try."

Aquamarine opened her mouth — probably to say something like, 'we know, we talked this to death yesterday' — before seemingly deciding against dismissal.

"I mean," Aquamarine said instead, "all we can do is our best. But yeah, this has gone on long enough. I am so sick of having my bones broken."

Aquamarine's jape broke the grim mood that had started to settle, and Crimson was incapable of responding as she wanted to. She instead took the opportunity to refocus on her map. Violence's route was even worse than usual, resembling something closer to a squiggle than the usual arc. Crimson added a point to the evidence board of 'poor sense of direction.'

Crimson had Violence pegged as a textbook Dark Magical Girl from their second fight. For one thing, her outfit was a bit of a giveaway; she was one of the very few Imperial officers who actually bothered with this little thing called 'armor.' Crimson had no good explanations for why half the women in the Imperial army seemed intent on eschewing armor in favor of what Crimson mentally labeled as 'fanservice.'

Seriously, some of the Rainbow's past foes would've been way more threatening if they'd relied on something other than active shielding to guard themselves. Instead, so many of them went with a uniform mysteriously missing its sides, most of the back, and sometimes even their midriffs. And don't even get her started on the slitted skirts! Half the Rainbows' own uniforms were torn by the end of a fight, but at least they started with coverage!

Dark Magical Girl Umbral Elite Captain Versatile Violence, in contrast, wore what had initially struck Crimson as an eccentric choice of a tailored 'nachtweave' collared uniform shirt and dress pants — Crimson suspected it was magically-infused silk from evil silkworms or something — beneath select pieces of black metal plate armor engraved with a gold thorn motif. The spaces between vambraces, pauldrons, a breastplate, knee caps, and metal-toed boots seemed as though they should have left enough vulnerability for the Rainbows to take advantage.

Nope. Crimson lost track of how many times she'd seen Violence infuse an armor segment or patch of cloth with corrupted aether, 'umbra,' and block attacks that really should have at least dented the damn things. It was, paradoxically, better to aim for Violence's torso rather than trying to go for any squishy joints, because it seemed to be both slower and much more magically expensive for Violence to protect her breastplate compared to her clothes or the smaller armor segments on her limbs.

Violence left her head bare, because pretty much everyone in this world did for some mysterious reason, but, uh. Violence had avoided attacks just by slightly shifting her head much too often for Crimson to really call her on it. She certainly had better reasons than the rest of the Rainbows, who didn't really have the skill to fully exploit what little additional peripheral vision was granted by leaving their heads unarmored save for magically reinforced hair. Magenta said that a bare head was important for the aether of the world to 'see' them, yet Crimson harbored growing doubts on that front. Too many Elite mooks seemed perfectly capable of using Umbra while wearing helmets, and Magenta often wore a cloth coif herself.

The recently-recolored violet dot representing Versatile Violence finally encountered Little Shade's main road, and that seemed to be a landmark too blatant for even her to miss it. She finally started traveling in a straight line toward them.

"Vee-Vee sight ETA five minutes," Crimson warned.

If Crimson looked up and enhanced her own sight, she would probably be able to see details of the Umbral Elite Captain from all the way over here. She wouldn't test it, because that was a waste of aether, but it was tempting; maybe Violence would be wearing something other than the grim and serious expressions she so often directed at the Rainbows. Which, y'know, Crimson by no means disliked, but she still really wanted Violence to smile at her. Unrealistically greedy of her, she knew. As a pathetic peasant and treasonous rebel, Crimson should content herself with glaring rather than hoping for more from the resident goddess of warfare–

Oh, bad path, go back to thirst.

Seeing Violence's sharp features combine with a stern countenance had done horrible things for Crimson's ability to stay focused. Crimson had been in trouble after the very first time that Violence loomed over her, rapier jammed into the ground beside Crimson's throat, and demanded that Crimson surrender. Like. If they'd been in a more harmless social situation rather than combat, Crimson totally would have. It was too bad that actually complying would've been either lethal or led to a completely unfun kind of 'reeducation.'

(Obviously, this did not stop Crimson's imagination from conjuring completely unrealistic scenarios related to the latter.)

It would be so much easier to push Versatile Violence from Crimson's mind if Violence had just been a one-off speed bump. Someone to purify and then leave for Magenta to assign elsewhere. Instead, Crimson wasn't sure she'd be exaggerating to say that beating V.V. had turned into the focus of the core Rainbows' campaign. Every other foe, even that damned dragon, had been beaten in three or fewer fights; the Rainbows had grown used to fleeing from a stronger foe, training, and coming back to crush the enemy with their new tricks.

Instead, the Rainbows had to train, and train, and train some more, and V.V. still refused to go down. The one time they'd come close, after Magentism managed to attach Violence's right vambrace to her pauldron just in time to let one Sunflower's spear pierce both leather and flesh, had been… bad. It had also, ironically, been the event that turned Crimson's mild crush into something genuinely problematic.

In the present, Crimson's fists clenched as an odd, yet horribly familiar, sensation entered the absolute edge of Crimson's range. Except, it — wasn't right? Or rather, it did feel right, and that was wrong. Versatile Violence was supposed to be either a tightly-wound core of careful control, or absolutely terrifying.

The other Rainbows, Magenta generously included, couldn't sense aether like Crimson could. Crimson's official specialty laid in detecting enemy spells, disrupting those spells, riddling the battlefield with trap-setting arrows, and generally ensuring that the Rainbows avoided nasty surprises from a parade of new opponents who tended to view large-scale attacks as the pinnacle of magic. More recently, Crimson had branched into trying to learn actual underlying spell mechanics rather than the instinctual shortcuts allowed by the Rainbows' transformation trinkets. Magenta didn't approve, but Crimson had reached a point where she did not care. Crimson needed to understand.

When Violence had been injured and started to draw back, Crimson had been the only one to actually notice something unfolding from Versatile Violence's body. Something that smelled like stars and spilled blood, felt like serrated teeth, sounded like enraged whispering, and looked back to meet Crimson's gaze. Something that could, if Crimson was not mistaken, massacre the Rainbows with contemptuous ease.

Crimson had caught Violence's eye, and in that moment of contact, Crimson thought she knew what the injured Violence was thinking. Could almost hear it in the whispers, even: 'Is it actually worth keeping you alive? Am I willing to accept the consequences of unceremoniously crushing you now when I never showed the capability of doing so before? Would my life be better without you in it?'

And then, before Crimson's terrified eyes, that terrible power folded itself back into Violence's body without any sign it had ever existed in the first place. An enraged Lieutenant Gray crashed into Magentism, Violence stemmed her own bleeding with a sheet of umbra, and the world moved on as though Violence's injury had been of no consequence.

Seriously, how was I the only one to notice? The others, I can get, but even Magentism?

Crimson knew what she'd seen, sensed, felt: this apparent parity between the Rainbows and Violence only existed because V.V. allowed it. Practically every day, Violence threw herself into another fight that she wouldn't let herself win. Exhausted herself avoiding the attacks of multiple peer opponents, accepted scratches and bruises as acceptable inevitabilities, preferentially targeted those who tried to attack someone or something other than her. Confined herself to abilities that the Rainbows could actually counter, rather than a terrible power that seemed like it was made to destroy. Emerged the next day to do it all over again, and again, and again.

How could Crimson not admire that kind of self-control? Crimson didn't know if V.V., too, struggled under a geas, or if she was simply afraid of revealing something that the aristocracy might consider threatening. Either way, Crimson thought she knew what a Hidden Boss EX looked like, and she did not want to push Versatile Violence so far that she decided it was necessary.

Or, y'know. Violence could turn out to be Violet. Crimson probably should've seen that one coming, honestly.

Crimson didn't know if that particular revelation was why Violence's power now more closely resembled a satisfied celestial cat sprawled across the sky, but something had put it in a good mood. Even the sensation of serrated teeth had been replaced by something closer to a cat's sandpaper tongue: still uncomfortable, but in a friendly way rather than akin to a pelican deciding whether or not the Rainbows were food.

Ah, don't think about it as a being. It's a spell, a power, an ability–

The meeting hadn't even started and Crimson was already feeling much better about their chances. Crimson hadn't supported Thyme's 'dumb idea' because she thought it was geopolitically sensible. It wasn't; Azure remained too thoroughly traumatized and feared attention too much for anyone to accept her as a 'strong ruler.' Azure facing her own fears day after day wasn't a feat that enough people would acknowledge as worthy of recognition.

(Crimson wanted to scream, she couldn't tell her friends and they needed to know–)

No, Crimson argued in favor of the 'avatar' plan because it was an excuse. Something to make a geas loosen its grip if V.V. was indeed suffering under one, or to make V.V. stop and think if she was free. Crimson wouldn't shed any tears if that path concluded in the thorough and violent decapitation of the Shaded Court and supporting intelligence apparatus.

That was Crimson's logic, and she would stick to it. Because if she let her mind drift too much, thought too hard about what she'd seen, was now sensing, she might not be capable of doing anything at all. After all, Crimson was forbidden from spoiling that which was meant to be hidden from mortal eyes. The geas binding Crimson didn't care if those secrets were on Earth, Faerie, or the Shaded Realm; no matter the location, it apparently still applied.

Crimson could barely manage to dismiss her map. Moving, telling the other Rainbows that Violence was might be an avatar, was out of the question. She should've kept her damn mouth shut instead of revealing that fairy's game.

...Admittedly, it was kind of hot that Crimson was currently incapable of moving under her own power in the presence of her crush.