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?”

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.”

Ne Desperemus

    Celatrix Julianne Verna would have passed for a school teacher, if not for adornments of her office. She wore blindingly white robes, a silver and gold gryphon necklace, and a silver circlet holding down her slightly grey and exceedingly curly brown hair. Her role as Celatrix of the Ministrae meant she kept the secrets of Mercury’s Indigimenta, a book which included all the rites and names of gods met during Mercury’s travels. However, hers was a dual role, for she was also the Archeireus of the Templus de Ambros, charged with maintaining the spiritual health of the kingdom. She monitored the Ignis Fatui and taught the rites of Mercury. She had a bad habit of thinking before acting and nearly always acted rationally. Both behaviors caused problems during her ascendency. Problems which magically disappeared once she’d assumed her role as Archeireus et Celatrix Ministrae. All in all, she was a busy lady, laden with heavy responsibilities, and quite unaccustomed to receiving orders. At the opening of the gallery doors, she was blasted with the unbridled hostility emanating from Brimley and openly reflected by Santos.

     “At ease,” Celatrix Verna ordered.

Me Piget

     “You are late,” the Inquisitor said without looking up from the solid oak desk in the warehouse manager’s office. He flipped a paper over, before entwining his fingers, and resting his forearms on the edge of the desk. Slowly, he turned his attention to the two men, “explain.”

     The duumviri hazarded a glance at each other, silently deciding on who would respond. Jougs answered, “we met trouble.”

     “Took care of it,” Vorant added.

     The Inquisitor waited, calm brown eyes boring into them.

     “We were followed…” Jougs hesitated, “by a bird and some Mercs.”

     “Got away, though, didn’t we?”

     “How?”

     “Firebombs and a smokescreen,” Jougs said.