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?”

Media Nocte

     “Oh, sweet Mercury! What did you put in it, piss?” Brimley complained.

     “Yes. That’s the secret to warming it up. I piss in it,” Santos retorted.

     “Oh, now I don’t want it,” Brimley held the coffee cup away from her while looking for a place to put it down.

     “Here. Let me,” Santos offered.

     She mock handed him the cup, which he genuinely took, eliciting her to whine, “hey, give that back.”

     In the living room, Cassie whispered, “it doesn’t make sense,” to Archel who kept one enormous eagle eye on the bickering soldiers. “Do people never grow up?”

     “Chess,” Archel murmured. In stifling a yawn, all the feathers on his head and neck went ridged. “Game,” he exhaled. “Ooh,” he moaned, “I dreamed I was…” His beak fell and his lion’s shoulders slumped.

Magni Periculi

     The headquarters of Mercury’s Elite Guards, a nondescript government building created to blend into the neighborhood of government buildings, was a fortified monstrosity with two underground passages leading to opposite sides of the Templus de Ambros. The idea being that should an emergency occur, the Kaiser and his Mercs would have direct access to an adequate evacuation route regardless of where in the Templus they were at the time of need. In practice, the passages were used to move essential personnel to and from the temple compound without drawing the attention of tourists waiting in line for the official tour. From the end of the well lit block, where Balin and Kent stood, only two things indicated that the building was anything other than part of the bureaucracy. First, a giant brightly lit sign announced: Mercury’s Elite Guard Head Quarters. And, second, a series of lights shined on limply hanging, soaked flags, banners, and pennants, which didn’t have the gumption to snap in the budding thunderstorm. Though Balin tried encouraging Kent to continue on, the young man defiantly stood his ground, enduring the drizzle while gaping at the colorful spectacle that completely wasted the architect’s efforts at designing a group of nondescript public buildings.
     “I seen a place just like this on the Strip,” Kent said nostalgically. “This one ain’t got a flashing sign pointing to parking in the rear or giant windows filled with fools and slots.”

Suis Moribus

     At the door to Patrick Field’s house, 1^st Lieutenant Santos addressed the two women he’d escorted from the Templus Ministrae, “one moment while I inform Colonel Dagon that you’re here.” Turning the knob and pushing the door, resulted in nothing. He shoved again, then looked over his shoulder and half-heartedly smiled as he knocked.

     When the door opened a crack, Santos declared, “tell Colonel Dagon I’ve returned with the Celatrix and one of her officers.”