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?”

Amicis Confido

     Placing the microphone back in its holder, Santos sat back in the driver’s seat of Colonel Dagon’s Iago Comet. He stared into the empty parking lot as he exhaled and wondered, who the hell comes up with these lame ass codes? Crowing cocks…there’s a completely inappropriate dick joke just waiting. I can’t believe he’s really dead. Okay…Okay. The Colonel is on the way. The Kaiser—um, the Kaiser’s body—and the Rose are under guard. I’ve got two teams following the Bards to where ever their birds lead. Oh, for Mercury’s sake! I owe that damn child an apology. But, it’s not like I knew he was the next bard. They could have told me. There was plenty of time during the ride up. This. This is why I hate cemeteries. I should increase the guards on the Rose and the Kaiser. The boy. I’ve got to get protection to the boy. I’ll believe that boy’s a griffin when I see it. This is too much. We’ve gotta get a team in to collect the evidence. I need to send someone to HQ to lead the Colonel down here. Do I move the body? The body. The body. Santos slammed both fists into the center of the steering

Plus Auctoritatis

     Goldie’s Revenge, the last standing tavern in Avalona, had officially seen more people come through its swinging doors in the last two hours than in the six years since opening. Goldie, the owner—a middle-aged divorcee who had used monies received in the divorce settlement to open the bar her ex-husband had always dreamed of—stood at the main bar chatting with a Regular Militia captain that arrived with a retinue carrying the General of the Plains Region. Goldie watched General Willard Isaac Tomlyn as he directed soldiers with the calm certainty of one accustomed to giving orders. On occasion he would indicate action using only his head, pointing his dimpled chin in one direction or the other, and observing with detachment as soldiers about-faced and strode off intent on fulfilling his commands.

Re Vera

Standing at the edge of the grove surrounding the Heart of the Seven Faeries were a handful of Mercs summoned there after Patrick Field had rushed the Phoenix Rose. Private Mack’s incapacitation by the cries of the Phoenix kept Field alive long enough for the groundskeeper to report everything he’d seen to Santos, who didn’t want to believe it but was duty bound to investigate. As such, Santos had run at top speed to the barracks north of the Heart where he grabbed the first men he saw, all Mercury’s Elite. The Regular Militia had been dispatched after the attack to protect Avalona and to maintain the borderlands.

     Santos stared at the seven bronze faerie statues forever dancing a circle around the fountain. Their right hands held up a giant carnelian stone shaped like a heart—not a cutesy Cupid heart, rather an actual bivalve human heart—and their left hands all held ancient bladed weapons: a cutler, an ensis, a ferrum, a gladius, a mucro, a pugio, and a sica. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, at first. Motioning to two of the Mercs nearest him, they cautiously approached the sacred fountain. The men circled it, looking every which way yet seeing nothing. Santos was about ready to call the effort off, when one of the Mercs stopped, tilted his head, and raised an eyebrow.