A Puero

     “Un-fucking-believable,” Colonel Dagon grunted while staring at the ashen-faced Ensign Balin. “You let him die because you wanted to watch the fireworks show?”

     “No,” Balin forced himself not to shout, “you misheard.” He huffed, “he’s passed out in the Break Room. He needs a doctor.”

     “Then why is he here?”

     Unable to control himself, Balin blurted, “he and his bird freaked in the hospital. Demanded to come here. Thinks he’s being hunted.”

     “He is.”

     The cousins silently stared at each other, heads tilted at matching angles.

     Balin’s shoulders slumped as the weight hit him, “war…” trailing off, his lips slammed shut forming a thin line of regret.

Reus Voti

     As the Phoenix sang, her tune turned from one of mourning to that of celebration. With each note of her song, Kaiser Archeleus Imler slowly, and though wobbling terribly, got to his bare feet. Once standing, Archel stared up at the brilliant fiery hues trailing after the Phoenix. On an impulse, he held his scrawny arm out, fore- and middle fingers extended. She swooped around his head, gently landing on his outstretched fingers where she promptly ceased singing. Archel turned to the still kneeling Celatrix, “um, could you please get up?”

     “As you command, Praeceptor Archel,” Celatrix Verna replied as she stood. The double line of now silent, previously chanting, ministers followed her cue and also rose.

     “It’s not really a command,” Archel mumbled.

     “What, milord?” she asked.

     “Uh. Nothing,” Archel said, absently stroking the Phoenix’s back. “What happens now?”

Nomen Regis

     “Eheu! Rex morte est. Inquam, O Mercuri. Astra declive!” Celatrix Verna’s voice trembled, building as she timed her ‘declive’ to coincide with the chanters’. Holding her hands to either side of the podium, she raised them with the palms directed at Kaiser Rudolpho Imler’s wounded face as he lay in his lidless coffin. While slowly turning her upper body toward Archel, Celatrix Verna continued, “Ecce! Rex nasci est. Inquam, O Iphigenia. Sol oriens!” Her impeccable timing once again apparent as her words blended into the chanted ‘Sol oriens!’

     From the front row, Colonel Thompson and General Michaels bowed their heads, listening to the foreign words. Michaels leaned over and whispered, “you know what she’s talking about?”