Loyalty (A Modern Fantasy)

[Gally]

The World of 2032
White areas mark significant neutral territories

I
LOYALTY

"Man may only know power through Sorcery."
-Lucius Aurelius, First Emperor of the Zodiac Court

In the 2032 years since they were founded, the twelve Warlock Houses of Zodiac Court have expanded their domains from the golden shores of Vesperia to the secretive island of Nihon. In their thirst for conquest they divided the entirety of the world between them, and now that there are no new lands to dominate they plot and scheme against each other, seeking wealth, territory, and retribution for past slights. The web of Zodiac Politics grows deadlier and more complex with each passing year.

It is only a matter of time before something snaps.

Spoiler

--The Kingdom of Ausonia--​

You are James Hart, and you have reached what is hopefully the last day of your training. Seven years you spent a Page, and then ten more a Squire, until just yesterday you passed the final trials and ascended to your rightful place as Knight, the first amongst your peers. Now you stand at attention in a cold room, as naked as the day you were born, arms crossing at the wrists behind your waist, chest out, eyes straight ahead.

The master of your Camp stands before you, staring at the door. He is a thin, reedy man with large glasses, dressed in a designer suit, with precious metals flashing at his neck, wrists, and fingers. He fidgets with one of his many rings, gold and studded with rubies, and murmurs to himself as if you are not standing directly behind him.

His anxiety unnerves you. You have only seen your Camp's master a handful of times over the course of your life, and only ever at a distance. But each time you glimpsed him he stood with the utmost poise and confidence, surrounded by half a dozen Knights and twice as many sycophants. When he had looked out over the training yards that had been your home, he had done so like a king surveying his territory, content in the knowledge that all he saw, he owned. Now he murmurs and fidgets like a Page who has not even undergone a hunt.

You know why, of course. You can smell the presence beyond the door, a storm in human skin. You do not let the fear show in your eyes. Your training has prepared you to face even death with a stone face.

The door opens, and the storm that is a man enters the room. He is tall, with dark eyes, a shaved head, and a neatly trimmed beard. He wears a dark grey suit, perfectly fit, and shoes of supple black leather that shine in the light. Your eyes immediately find his hands. Your masters have often said that a man's face can be a mask, but hands speak only truth. His fingers are lean and taught, decorated only by a single gold wedding band. They are not the hands that grip a rifle, or till a field, but they are strong, and dexterous. They are hands that can weave all of the twenty-seven signs. They are the hands of a Warlock. His power rocks you, a stormwall of sheer presence, and you set your jaw to avoid cowering. Your Camp's master is not so stoic – his hands shake like an old man's, and he drops immediately to one knee.

You mimic the motion, eyes cast down at your feet, knuckles of your right hand pressed lightly to the ground. For a few long moments there is nothing but silence and the storm of the man's power, and then he speaks in perfect, clipped Ausonian, the foremost language of the Zodiac Court. "Stand." He is a Lord of the Zodiac Court, one of the eleven Kings of the World, second only to Emperor of Capricorn, and his voice is authority itself.

You and your Camp's master stand at once, you returning to attention. "Your Highness," your Camp's master says, his own Ausonian shaky and heavily accented. "We are honored by your presence. Was your flight comfortable?"

"It was quick, Dimitris" the Lord says. "That is all that matters." He turns to you, studying you with a critical eye. "This is the boy. Hart."

"It is him, your Highness" Dimitris says, "just as you requested. A purebred Knight, to rival even his father."

Not a flicker of emotion crosses your face at the mention of the man who sired you. You have never met William Hart, but his shadow has dogged your every step since you first became a Page. You had heard that the stud fee Dimitris had paid for you was worth two-dozen Knights at least, and if you failed, or even stumbled, you were a waste of an investment. So you had not failed, or even stumbled.

The Lord walks a slow circle around you. He reaches out a hand and prods at the tattoo on your left breast – three black, inverted chevrons just above your heart. The skin surrounding the lowest chevron, the one you earned with your Knighthood, is still red, having been completed only hours ago. "My daughter," the Lord says, "is sixteen at last. She has said the words and drank of my blood, and is now Heir in truth as well as name."

"It is wonderful to hear so, your Highness," Dimitris says, twisting his ring around and around his finger. "We have all heard great things, of course. Great things!"

"Many trials still remain ahead of her," the Lord says, as if he did not hear Dimitris at all. "She will need perfection beside her, if she is to properly carve her legacy." He taps you under the chin with two fingers, and you open your mouth wide so he may inspect your teeth.

"Young Hart was first amongst all our Squires," Dimitris assures him. "He has received training with rifles, pistols…any gun you care to name. Knives as well, and hand to hand, and he is an expert driver, and a capable pilot, and his stock, well – you know his stock, your Highness."

The Lord's eyes narrow ever so slightly. "I know his stock, Dimitris, else I would never suffer your ridiculous asking price. I am not merely paying for a thug with good genes."

"Of course, of course," Dimitris says, touching his knee to the ground in apology. "He has, of course, been trained just as intensely in the mental and chivalrous arts as he has the physical. He can recite all nine radiant chants, and has memorized Darwin's Bestiary. He knows his table manners, and his etiquette, and can identify all the Lords and Ladies of the Court, as well as their Heirs."

"Mm," the Lord says, sounding unimpressed. "If you speak truly, then perhaps you did not swindle me as much as I'd feared." He glances back at you. "Knight," he says, "I have agreed to purchase you so that you may protect my daughter, my Heir and only living blood. Do you know who I am?"

Of course you do. Dimitris had not lied – you do know your etiquette, and the radiant chants, and Darwin's Bestiary, and most importantly you know the names and faces of the twelve great Lords and Ladies and their Heirs. Even if you did not, Dimitris had been sure to remind you when he first entered the room. The man who stands before you is…

[] Lord Ryuga, of House Leo
Ruling the Kingdom of Nihon, House Leo is proud, powerful, and militaristic. Though historically strong allies of the Imperial House Capricorn, recently Leo has begun to chafe under Capricorn's restrictions, and seeks to expand its territory further south. Leo's heir, Sakura, is a canny political player and a notorious party girl.

[] Lord Marco, of House Aries
Ruling the Kingdom of Gallia, House Aries is prosperous but not outstanding house. It maintains favorable trade deals with other houses and a long tradition of power, but many believe its best days to be behind it. Aries' heir, Jacqueline, is shy and reserved, but a powerful witch who is rumored to dabble in unholy arts.

[] Lord Samuel, of House Pisces
Ruling the Kingdom of Allegain, House Pisces is still reeling from a devastating Civil War that put Lord Samuel's line in control. With strong, opportunistic houses to the West and South, House Pisces is in a precarious position, and voices amongst the Court whisper that Samuel may not be long in control. Pisces' Heir, Eliza, is friendly and outgoing, but seems out of place amongst the Zodiac Court.​

​

Adhoc vote count started by Gally on Dec 31, 2017 at 9:54 PM, finished with 19 posts and 14 votes.

• ---

  7 people have voted

  [X] Lord Marco, of House Aries

  • Theaxofwar
  • Gamefreak1ed
  • BunnyLord
  • Pathetic King
  • Ct613hulu
  • indra
  • The Grey Mage

  4 people have voted

  [X] Lord Samuel, of House Pisces

  • Yun
  • Solace2117
  • SirLagginton
  • Strange9

  3 people have voted

  [x] Lord Ryuga, of House Leo

  • Krain
  • Nevill
  • Zeitgeist Blue

 

[Gally]

II
Optics​

…All my loyal readers know that I am capital "O" obsessed with Jacqueline Aries, and just last night I had the honor of being able to cover her recent charity function – the part that was open to the public anyway! J-girl looked absolutely STUNNING, in a tight little Marsucci dress (black, as if she ever wears anything else!) that was just to die for, and I am love love loving the bangs…

…All of Gallia's biggest stars were in attendance, and there were even rumors that some of the other Heirs showed up in the private sections. Do you think Rodrigo was there? I might just die if I missed him…

…Jaqueline even got a blessing from an Archbishop, which should put all those nasty rumors about Church sanctions to rest…

…No boy on her arm (or girl for that matter. Hello Jacqueline, I'm here!) but she got very cozy with the newly appointed Marquis of Greyshore (total HUNK)…

…But if I had to say SOMETHING bad, I'd point out that J-girl still doesn't seem to have an Honor Guard. She's SIXTEEN now, people. When is this going to happen? Without an Honor Guard, who's going to keep her safe? Who's going advise her? Who's going to be there for her, who's going to be her friend and keep her grounded? I'm sure her and Lord Aries have their reasons, but it's still worrying the everloving CRAP out of me to see her alone at all these parties. Our girl deserves the best! (And if House Aries happens to be accepting applications for the positions, somebody get me a pen!)…

-Bling!
(Alleganian Gossip Magazine)

--Ausonia--
​

When money has changed hands and your purchase is complete, you dress in a simple white jumpsuit and follow Lord Aries to the runway outside. Usually the long strip of concrete is deserted save for a few light aircraft used for training, but today it is dominated by a luxury jet, nearly 100 feet long, with the words "ARIES SKY III" painted in bold red along the side. You can feel the eyes of Squires on you as you approach the plane, but you don't meet any of them.

This camp has been your home for your entire life, and now you are unlikely to ever see it again. The men and women you've been trained alongside since birth will be sold to Lords, Dukes, or mercenary companies all across the world. You've heard it's not exactly uncommon for Knights to run into their Camp-mates after being sold, but neither is it something they should count on. The thought of leaving all this behind makes you feel…

[] Relief
The Camp might have been your home, but it was also your prison. Between the grueling (and often deadly) training, the fierce inter-Squire competition, and the constant looming of the Masters, the Camp was a hell, one you're glad to escape.

[] Regret
The Camp was a hell, yes, but it was your hell. Now, not twenty-four hours after achieving the goal you've strived for your entire life, you're being sold like a sack of potatoes to some Lord you've never met. You just wish you had more time.

The inside of the jet looks more like a hotel room than a plane, with lush carpets, comfortable recliners, and even a fully stocked bar. There are only a handful of attendants on board with you, three assistants and two guards with pistols strapped to their waists. All of them are dressed in Aries Red, a double-breasted jacket trimmed in gold.

Lord Aries takes a seat at a small table and gestures for you to sit across from him. You take the seat, but rather than engaging you Lord Aries turns and exchanges murmured words with a woman standing at his shoulder, a short, dark skinned woman with a tablet under one arm. "Thank you Charlotte," he says quietly. Another attendant brings him a glass of ice and dark liquor, but doesn't offer you anything.

Lord Aries regards you coolly as the plane takes off, his fingers steepled. He is a tall man, slim, with pale skin and dark hair flecked with silver at the temples. His eyes, a watery green, look almost shadowed – as if something behind them is obscuring the light within.

"You are now officially property of my daughter, Jacqueline," he says. He speaks in his native Gallic, rather than the Ausonian commonly spoken in your Camp, but you have been trained in the language since you were young. "You understand what that entails."

"Of course, your Highness," you reply. You will fight for Jacqueline Aries, kill for her, die for her. You will serve her drinks and change her sheets if that is what she commands, but hopefully it won't come to that. You were trained for obedience, but you were born and bred for battle.

Lord Aries nods, satisfied, then gestures for his laptop to be brought over. For the next hour he sips his drink and types away at his computer, as if he's forgotten you completely. You notice the guards and attendants sneaking the occasional look at you, but if they speak at all it is during their infrequent trips to the pilot's cabin. The hum of the engines and the steady clacking of Lord Aries' keyboard creates a comfortable semi-silence which is suddenly interrupted by the shrill ring of a cell phone.

Lord Aries glances down at the phone on the table, then answers the call with a flick of his thumb. "Jacqueline," he says, and there's a change to his voice with the word, a warmth that hadn't been present in his conversation with Dimitris, or with you. The harsh lines of his face soften slightly. "I have him. No, I…" he frowns, ever so slightly. "I understand. Do what you think is best. I'll send him in after you." He places the phone face down on the table and stares at you with obvious displeasure. "I had hoped," he says after a moment, "to give you some time to get acquainted with your new post. But it seems some whim of House Capricorn has forced plans to change."

"I'm eager to serve, your Highness."

"I'm sure," Lord Aries says with a sigh. He glances out the window and raises one hand, signaling Charlotte to step forward. "Have a stylist and an armorer waiting at the runway," he says without looking up. "Get him to the palace as soon as possible. I'll be leaving for Aztlan as soon as you're off the plane."

Charlotte bows and taps at her tablet, and the semi-silence returns for the remainder of your trip.

The moment your feet hit the runway, followed closely by Charlotte's, the jet wheels around and takes off in the opposite direction. You follow it for only a moment before turning your attention to the building that borders the runway, a solid brick two-story a few dozen feet to your left. Charlotte takes you by your elbow, her grip soft but firm, and directs you into the building, where you're greeted by a tall, blonde woman with the left side of her head shaved.

"You must be the Knight," the blonde woman says, looking you up and down. "I'm Clementine. Mm, you're even prettier in person." She runs her hands through hair, fingers pulling up thick black curls. "Give me an hour with this and I'll have half the girls in Gallia taking extra long bubble baths." Her Gallic accent is so thick you're half afraid she'll drown in it, all soft, trilling Rs and short, breathy vowels.

"You have ten minutes," Charlotte says, stepping past her. "Where's his jacket? We can't have him out in public looking like…" she gestures at your jumpsuit, "this."

"Peter!" Clementine calls, waving to a man at the other end of the tent, "get his clothes out here!" She pushes you into a nearby chair and ruffles your hair some more. "It's criminal to buzz this all off, but orders are orders," she says, shaking her head. "If they let you grow it out, promise you'll come back to me?"

"Here's his uniform," Peter says from behind you. He hands Clementine an undershirt, a red jacket similar to the ones the attendants on the jet wore, and dark grey pants.

Clementine inspects them for a moment and then hands them to you. "Put these on."

You take the clothes and stand, stripping out of your jumpsuit to change. Charlotte and Peter pointedly look away, but Clementine doesn't seem to share their reservations. The pants fit well, but when you move to button the jacket it pulls tight against your shoulders and chest.

"Shit," Clementine murmurs.

"Does his jacket not fit?" Charlotte asks.

"I can button it," you say, although it's a close thing. Even breathing deeply strains the buttons – if you have to run or fight, you'll pop one for sure. But if anything happens that requires you to run or fight, you doubt a button will be high on your list of priorities.

Charlotte pinches the bridge of her nose. "There will be reporters at the palace," she says. "Heirs and their Honor Guards. He's going to debut at the Court with a jacket that looks like it was fitted pre-puberty?"

"I have an idea," Clementine says. "You won't like it."

"Hit me."

Clementine reaches out and undoes the buttons on your jacket, exposing the undershirt beneath. "We unbutton the jacket," she says as she works, "and only buzz the sides of his head. Give him a nice undercut. I have some sunglasses that could really tie the look together."

"The look?" Charlotte asks, incredulous. "He'd look like a hoodlum. Like a warlord's thug."

"He'd look like a bad boy," Clementine argues. "We could give him Peter's bike-"

"Wait, what?" Peter asks.

Clementine waves him off. "I know we were supposed to go with clean cut, and I get it, but this would work too."

Charlotte shakes her head. "We chose the clean cut look for a reason," she says. "We need the professionalism to balance out concerns we already have about the Heiress. Jacqueline-"

"Jacqueline chose her aesthetic, and we don't have to agree with it, but we can use it," Clementine says. "You know this is a good idea Charlotte, and Lord Aries put you in charge of optics for a reason."

"Give me a minute to decide," Charlotte says, throwing up her hands. "Get him his guns and get back to me."

"That would be my job," Peter says, waving to you. "Over here, man." He leads you to a large, wheeled cabinet, opening several drawers to reveal a variety of grenades, knives, and firearms of all sorts. There are even some gloves with metal worked into the knuckles. "Lots of goodies, I know," Peter says. "But it's best to keep it light at Court. Only take what you're most comfortable with."

Loyalty has 10 skill rankings and 11 skills
Gentleman --> Esquire --> Baron --> Viscount --> Earl --> Marquis --> Duke --> Heir --> Lord --> Emperor

Heavy Guns (Rifles or bigger)
Light Guns (Pistols, SMGs, etc.)
Close-Quarters (Melee weapons or unarmed)
Explosives
Stealth
Lockpicking
Driving (Any kind of vehicle)
Computers
Courtly Arts (Dancing, etiquette, knowledge of the Zodiac Court)
Occult (Knowledge of Magic, not ability to use it)
Survival (Tracking, wilderness, cooking, first aid)

As a fully trained Knight, you are a "Viscount" at all skills (which makes you more than capable with all skills). However, you may assign three skills to the "Earl" level, two to the "Marquis" level, and one to the "Duke" level.

Please vote for skills by plan, as that makes it much easier to figure out what people want/construct a build. Don't worry about min-maxing though! You'll be able to recruit allies to cover any weaknesses, and your "Viscount" skill makes you, as I said above, perfectly capable at every skill. Build a character you think is cool, rather than one you think is most likely to win.

Click to shrink...

By the time you've picked out your arsenal, Charlotte has come to a decision.

[] By the Book
Buzz your head, button the jacket, ride in the car. Try not to embarrass yourself.

[] Bad Boy
Take the undercut, unbutton the jacket, ride the motorcycle. Try not to embarrass yourself.

 

[Gally]

III
Peers

"Tyrants, not Gods!"
-Final words of Mark LaFluer
Hung for terrorism, high treason, 2024

-Gallia-​

You choose a handgun from Peter's rack, a black SIG Sauer. The gun is a comforting weight in your hand, power given form, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. You were trained extensively in all forms of combat, everything from hand-to-hand to anti-material rifles, but you have always excelled with smaller guns. You wrap the holster around your hip and draw the weapon free once, testing your reaction time.

Before you head back over to Clementine and Charlotte, another gun catches your eye – almost like a revolver, but with an elongated barrel and a miniature drum magazine where the chambers would be. The trigger is set back behind the magazine, giving the weapon a stretched aesthetic. You gesture towards it. "Is that…"

Peter picks it up almost reverently. "The Colt Knightshot," he says, holding the gun out to you for inspection. "I always wanted to requisition one but never had the excuse. Now that I'm serving adjacent to an actual Knight I thought…" he shrugs. "I just wanted to look at one."

"It's beautiful," you admit. The Colt Knightshot is a pistol capable of firing six 12-gauge shotgun shells as fast as its wielder can pull the trigger. Technically a normal human could use one, but they were as likely to break their wrist as they were to hit their target. Even Knights, with all their strength and precision, had trouble wielding the weapon effectively. But damn if it didn't look cool. "I've never wanted anything this much."

"She's yours, buddy," Peter says, placing the gun in your hands. "Needs a special harness, let me dig it out." A minute later you're fully outfitted, the SIG Sauer on one hip, the Knightshot on the other.

"Boys and their toys," Clementine murmurs as you make your way back to her. "Sure you need all that firepower for a photo op?"

"I like to be prepared."

"For a bear?" Clementine asks.

"Class-A dermal strengthening enchantments can resist handgun rounds even within ten feet," you reply, taking a seat in front of her. You have to adjust the Knightshot to get it to fit, but that says nothing about the weapon's impracticality. "No point in taking chances, right?"

Clementine just laughs. "Don't let me get in the way of your fun," she says, attaching a length guard to her clippers. "It's a good day for both of us. Charlotte's decided to let you go the bad boy route." She runs her fingers through your hair and gets to work, sawing your unruly curls into something more manageable. "This isn't really the style up north," she says as she works. "It started with some of the mercenary companies down in Habesha, right around the Horn."

The Kingdom of Habesha, ruled by House Libra, is a wealthy but unstable House maintained by the support of local warlords. You know it fairly well – the Habeshan appetite for Knights is never sated, and it's said that its Warlords order Knights and Squires in bulk. Your camp was too prestigious to accept such a crude offer, but you know of several Knights who had been shipped down to Habesha to fulfill more specific orders.

"Well, the important thing isn't where it started, but what it represents," Clementine continues. "The press sees the undercut, they think 'exotic' and 'danger.' We help that impression along a little bit, with the unbuttoned jacket, and the motorcycle, and I guess even the gun that makes it look like you're compensating for something. The narrative practically writes itself." She shears off a last little bit of hair just above the back of your neck and puts her hands on her hips, examining you. "Not half bad, for a rush job. Here." She hands you a pair of aviators, deep green lens in gunmetal frames.

"Is he ready?" Charlotte asks, not looking up from her tablet. "The Heirs are already inside the palace. We need to get him on his way."

"He's ready," Clementine says.

Charlotte nods. "Good. Get up." You stand, and she shoves a jumble of small objects into your chest. "This is your cell, an ID with the royal seal, a credit card and the keys to Peter's bike. The phone should have all the contacts you'll need, including myself and the Heiress. It also has Lord Aries' private number. You are only to call this number if directly ordered by myself or Jacqueline, do you understand?"

You snap a salute, right fist over your heart. "Yes Ma'am."

She motions for you to follow her and leads you out of the house. "Jacqueline is meeting with the Heirs from Houses Taurus and Scorpio," she says as you walk, "as well as with representatives from House Capricorn. You don't need to concern yourself with the specifics, but understand that you represent House Aries now. How you comport yourself reflects not only on Lord Aries and Jacqueline, but Gallia as a whole."

"I understand." Peter's motorcycle is practically an antique, a WLA from 70 years ago, painted the red and gold of House Aries. You take a seat and run your hands along the handlebars, familiarizing yourself with the vehicle.

"Take care of her!" Peter calls from the doorway, and you give him a thumbs up.

Your cell phone guides you through the streets of Lutetia, Gallia's capital. Lutetia is an ancient city, nearly as old as the Zodiac Court itself, and its age is reflected in its architecture, which shifts from antique to ultra-modern seemingly at random. Wide, paved streets intersect with narrow cobblestone walkways, and massive spires of glass and steel neighbor modest brick and mortar apartments. The city is also dotted with fountains, beautifully carved from marble or sculpted out of precious metals. The Lutetian fountains are known throughout the world, each crafted by a different designer, and artists from all corners of the Court flock to the city for a chance to add to the collection.

The closer you get to the palace, the thicker traffic gets. Soon you're weaving in between unmoving cars, picking your way through the traffic jam. A red-jacketed security guard with a FAMAS slung across his chest gestures you to stop at a checkpoint, but you flash your ID and he lets you pass.

The palace is a massive, sprawling building that faces Lutetia's main road, a U-shaped front lodge built of brick and cut stone. Two large, asymmetrical wings branch off from the main building, and you know from your studies that the palace extends back for over a mile, hundreds of years of near-constant construction coming together to create a monument to the wealth and power of House Aries. You pull your motorcycle up to a red-jacketed valet who can't be much older than you and hand him the keys. "Take care of her," you say as you dismount, and he nods eagerly.

The walkway and steps leading up to the palace are a madhouse of bodies – cheering fans, armed security, and camera wielding reporters. It seems that the gathering of three of thirteen Heirs is hardly a quiet event. Several reporters noticed you pull up on the motorcycle, and as you approach the walkway they begin turning their attention to you, muttering amongst themselves.

You show your ID to a security guard and are waved through the gate separating the common rabble from the walkway. Your first step onto the ancient stone is met with a high-pitched shriek of elation, which dies down as the gathered crowd realizes they don't actually recognize you. Still, you're battered with the flash of cameras as you make your way up towards the palace steps, and reporters shove microphones at you as you pass, shouting questions in your general direction.

"Does House Aries have a comment about the recent Church allegations?" One reporter asks.

"Any comment on the Transylvanian border situation?"

You quicken your pace, but there's no outrunning the attention. You've run through machine gun fire, trekked across forests in below freezing weather, and faced down creatures straight out of a nightmare. Somehow this is worse than all of it. You shield your eyes against the flash of cameras and press onwards.

"-Weakening relations with House Taurus-"

"-Jacqueline's visits to Greyshore-"

"-Announcement of an Honor Guard-"

Luckily, the stairs leading up to the front balcony are clear of any reporters. You take them two at a time, salute the security guards posted at the door, and step into the palace proper. The doors swing shut behind you, and you lean up against them in a moment of quiet relief. The first time is always the most difficult. When you have to face the paparazzi next, you'll be better prepared.

"First time with the press?" The words, spoken in Ausonian, come from a man to your left. Thirty or so, he has a shaved head and a scarred face, and wears a single breasted jacket with large pockets on either side of the buttons. His jacket is colored a deep royal purple, and a patch bears the symbol of House Capricorn in stark white. An ARX160 hangs from a strap around his neck.

He extends a hand. "Name's Benny. Capricorn security."

"James," you reply, shaking his hand with your own. "Aries security."

"You're a little late," Benny mentions. "The Heirs have already moved to the meeting room. Very closed door, very hush hush."

You glance up at him. "I'm a little behind, yeah. Apparently there was a last minute rescheduling.

Benny rubs the back of his neck. "I know, I know. Not my call. Boss got a stick up his ass this morning, for whatever reason. Said the talks couldn't wait." He shrugs. "What are you going to do?"

What indeed? You cast a glance around the room, taking stock of the situation.

The palace's reception hall is a long hallway with high, vaulted ceilings. Paintings and statues line the walls. and decadent gold and crystal chandeliers hang high above your head. Men with guns are posted at regular intervals – most wear Aries red, but one or two wear Capricorn purple, and others wear Taurus brown or Scorpio jade.

At one corner, a group of boys around your age has gathered around a leashed dragon, still young enough to only come up to your knee. It flies circles just above their heads, spitting flames and catching bits of beef jerky that they toss it. Its golden scales ripple in the light. Of the gathered boys you recognize two – two Dukes from the Kingdom of Aztlan, Honor Guards to the Heir of House Taurus.

House Taurus is the most powerful of the four Houses in the western world, an old and storied House which had fled across the ocean after an attempted coup. Settling in what would become Atzlan, they dominated the natives of their new home with steel and sorcerery, and it was said that even today they practiced blood sacrifice on the steps of ancient pyramids. The House's Heir, Rodrigo, is nowhere to be seen, but you know him to be a handsome boy of eighteen, charismatic and wildly popular with his subjects.

In the far corner, sitting cross-legged on the ground is a girl you recognize as Lian – the younger sister of Mei, Heiress of House Scorpio. She is surrounded by boys and girls, teenagers slightly younger than yourself, watching intently as she tosses dice of carved bone. House Scorpio is reclusive and secretive, preferring to remain within their own borders rather than venturing into the wider world of the Zodiac Court. They also maintain a powerful navy, which they use to control their Kingdom's many islands.

Now that you're inside, you suppose you should start earning your keep as a Knight in House Aries' employ. There's no chance they'll let you into the room where the Heirs are talking, not if even the Honor Guard has been left outside. But the suddenness of the meeting could mean holes in security. You could sweep the perimeter; make sure nothing's amiss.

Or you could turn your attention to the Honor Guards. You're still not entirely sure why the Heirs are meeting here and now, and nobody in this room will be better informed than the people handpicked to accompany the Heirs at every waking moment.

Still…it wouldn't be improper for a Knight to approach the Honor Guard, especially given your role as Jacqueline's protector, but the Honor Guards seem insular, tight knit. You might have a better chance getting answers out of the security – Benny seems talkative.

[] Sweep the perimeter
[] Talk to the Taurus Honor Guard
[] Talk to the Scorpio Honor Guard
[] Talk to Benny
[] Write In