“Davon is missing.”

  “I’m sure he’s busy.”

  “He’s never been this busy, and I need him to be here for this.”

  Adamus sighs, adjusting his bracers again. The beast has been acting odd lately. He pushes it down, “He’ll be here for the marriage, Father, don’t worry. He hasn’t let us down yet.”

  Gelmidas laughs, wiping his glasses before he places them back on, “You’re right, Adamus. I suppose that I’m just nervous about all of this.”

  Adamus holds open the spaceport door for his Father, emptily reassuring him, “There’s no need to worry, it will all go off without a hitch, trust me.” Adamus shuts the door, following behind Gelmidas to meet the guards awaiting them.

  “No portals today, lord?” Gelmidas shakes his head at the captain of the guard, “No portals.”

  Adamus nervously adjusts his bracers once more.

  He’s done his best to hide Davon’s lone hunt for the Scorched Archer over these past few days, but the longer Davon is gone, the more suspicious everyone becomes. And the more suspicious everyone becomes, the closer they’ll come to learning about his rather embarrassing meeting with President Soryu.

  However, the main thing on Adamus’s mind right now is the fate of his mentor. As his Father stated, Davon has never been gone for this long before; he’s always been just where he needed to be at the exact moment he needed to be there.

  Adamus wipes sweat from his bracers as he tightens them, thinking to himself Don’t tell me that the Scorched Archer got one over on you, Davon.

  Kick her ass for me.

  Kick her ass and come home safe.

  The guards surround Adamus and Gelmidas as the Symbiotic Republic ship descends.

  The wind blows up the tails of Adamus’s blue jacket, which he swiftly buttons as he glances at his Father, who clings to his crown and glasses to keep them from flying away. Adamus smiles at the bizarre scene as he makes himself presentable.

  The black ship’s skin digs into the wooden landing pad, clutching it until it’s comfortable enough to open its doors.

  “Welcome back, Madam President.” Gelmidas greets Vanessa as her boots smack onto the concrete.

  “Good to be back…” She states, trailing off when her eyes meet Adamus. His face goes red at the awkward acknowledgment.

  He prays to all the Gods he can as fast as he can that Vanessa doesn’t mention their meeting to his Father.

  Cassandra and Tendo emerge from behind Vanessa’s cape as she makes her way to Gelmidas’s side. “I have many things I wish to discuss with you, Emperor. Preparations and such.” Adamus catches Vanessa’s comment as the guards open the door for the group and begin to escort them all to the plaza.

  Before he can rush forward to prevent the inevitable, Cassandra bumps a leather case slung over her shoulder into his side.

  “Ow.” He mutters, stroking his arm before attempting a joke, “Well, aren’t you looking as stressed and tired as ever?”

  Cassandra swings the case back into its proper position on her back. She examines it as thoroughly as she can to be sure that her violin is undamaged before narrowing her cold eyes on Adamus. “You and I need to have a talk.”

  Adamus curses himself; clearly, the meeting with Vanessa was not only insulting but pointless. The threat of Cassandra is still very much a present one.

  Adamus gulps, deciding to do what he does best: avoid responsibility.

  “Oh, my dear lady, as much as it would delight me to hold a private audience with you, I must insist that you wait until we’re married to do anything so scandalous!”

  Cassandra grits her teeth at Adamus’s immaturity. Although her face remains rather flat, she makes an effort to harshen her tone, “A serious talk.”

  Adamus could make another witty remark. Something about how bedside matters are always serious, or that a man of his stature is serious by nature despite his cleverness. He could do a number of things, but he simply notes the weight of the matter and shrugs.

  “Fine. I pick the place, though.”

  “Place?” Cassandra inquires, still keeping her baggy eyes in front of her as she walks with the guards at her side.

  “Yes, place, location, site, area, setting, venue. Rome has many of them. What? Did you think that you were going to be limited to the Coliseum and Plaza like the last time you were here?” Adamus droops his head down to glance at Cassandra’s face. She remains unfazed as he stares her down through his curled locks of brown, rusty hair.

  “I didn’t know that I was limited last time.” She states merely to break the uncomfortable monotony that the sound of boots marching on pavement and gravel brings.

  “You don’t get out much, do you?” Adamus sneers, holding himself high and mighty as the caravan enters the city.

  A roaring crowd has already gathered to block their path.

  The guards push through the horde and strike down those troublesome few who get a bit too carried away.

  Cassandra clutches her Violin case and glances at her Father, who is holding up fairly well, all things considered. Still, she does find all of this very overwhelming; she’s more than ready for the guards to bring out a carriage or something of the like so that they can all book it to the Plaza.

  Adamus cancels those plans…

  If there were any to begin with.

  “HELLO ROME!” He shouts at the top of his lungs, running up to the swarm of hands to shake, bump, and high-five as is appropriate.

  Cassandra only now notes that the crowd is made up almost entirely of humans, as are all the crowds in Rome.

  “Are they all fans?” she asks, trying to rise above the noise.

  “Huh?” Adamus turns to her, “What? Oh, yeah, fans of me anyway.”

  Cassandra squints her eyes and presses her fists to her ears as she reads a crudely painted sign that an elderly woman points her way

  Better dead than Republic

  Adamus either doesn’t notice the protestors or doesn’t care. He leaps into the air, joyously smacking the open palm of a young boy who excitedly shouts in adoration atop his mother’s shoulders.

  Adamus then skips toward his Father, tapping his shoulder with a smile that is quickly washed away once Vanessa glares at him.

  “What is it, Adamus?” Gelmidas asks, with Vanessa still looking upon Adamus in disdain.

  “I was considering showing Cassandra around the city,” he states unsteadily.

  Gelmidas widely grins, “Why, that’s a great idea!”

  “On the contrary, it’s quite a terrible one,” Vanessa scoffs. “Tensions are high; going into a bustling city without any protection is downright idiotic.”

  Adamus shakes his head and pulls down his sleeve to reveal one of his bracers. “Clearly, you weren’t watching me in the arena, Madam President. You see, I am the protection. Any would-be assassins or overly enthusiastic extremists would have to be a historic level of stupid to cross me.”

  Something squirms beneath Adamus’s skin, scratching at the bracer. Adamus pushes the beast down with a swift tug of his sleeve.

  Vanessa looks to Gelmidas. “He’s the most dangerous man in the universe, Vanessa, if he wants to run off with a girl, no one is going to stop him.”

  Vanessa remains silent, considering the proposal before batting her hand, “Fine, but I want Cassandra back by nightfall.”

  Adamus grins and swings his hand over his brow, shooting Vanessa a faux salute as he runs off. Vanessa carefully examines Gelmidas’s proud expression as Adamus departs.

  She chooses to show her hand only after the boy has left the Emperor’s field of view.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “So…” She starts in a soft voice, “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get my hands on a mystical machine head, would you?”

  Cassandra had hoped that the quaint tavern hidden beneath the sprawling spire of concrete housing complexes would be quieter than the cramped streets above.

  She was wrong.

  Dead wrong.

  “That was my drink!”

  “Didn’t see your name on it!”

  The two men go from standing over their tables to strangling each other on the floor in seconds as each patron unanimously rings out “FIGHT! FIGHT!”

  Cassandra retreats deeper into the booth as Adamus pumps his arms, joining in the brutal ritual, “FIGHT FIGHT!”

  Cassandra anxiously grips her violin case as she mumbles, “I was under the impression you didn’t care for commoners.”

  Adamus slumps back into the booth once the two men are pulled apart, much to the disappointment of the spectators. “You got me all wrong. I love that these people love me, and I love what they love. It’s love all around!”

  He pumps his arms up once again, exposing his bracers before flopping his elbows onto the birch table. “Now, unless I’m mistaken, you wanted to speak to me about something, Ms. Soryu, or should I say Ms. Batharuk?”

  Cassandra lurches forward at the last name. “First of all, how did you figure that out?”

  Adamus slyly smirks at the recognition of his brilliance.

  “It was quite simple, since you mentioned President Soryu wasn’t your Mother, I assumed that she would have wiped any adoption records or such, but birth records would have been much more difficult to scrub, especially in your precious capitalist system, where you quite literally have to pay to be born and each birth certificate is kept as a record not only of the person in question but as a proof of purchase so to speak.

  Now obviously it was still well hidden, but if you have the patience like I do to cross-reference each individual named Cassandra born eighteen years ago, on the sixth month of the sixth day on the universal calendar, you would only find two individuals, one being you, Ms. Batharuk and the other being a Ms. Cainrek who not only lives far from the central Republic planet but has an entirely different eye and hair color from your stunning hazel pupils hidden beneath your luscious black locks.”

  Cassandra rolls her eyes. “Alright, so clearly you need to get a hobby, but why did you rat me out?”

  Adamus folds his arms, taking on a more serious demeanor compared to the exuberant showboating he previously displayed. “You threatened my Father, Cassandra. More than that, you insulted him.”

  So that’s what this is about, Cassandra realizes with a bitter knot of contempt building within her, what a spoiled little Daddy’s boy.

  “I didn’t insult him; I stated the conclusion I reached after looking at the facts. Your Father is hiding something. Something big. He wants our governments together for a reason, and-”

  Adamus yawns, bored.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Cassandra slams her palms onto the table.

  Adamus presses a knuckle to his cheek and yawns again. “Yeah, yeah, doomsday is upon us, and whatever. Let me tell you something, Cassandra, you are the prime argument for keeping commoners out of political matters.”

  Cassandra slumps back down, fighting the need to punch Adamus in his uncannily smooth jawline. “Maybe you’re right, but believe me, if the Scorched Archer-”

  “Here we go again!” Adamus tosses his hands up once more, this time in visible frustration.

  “Listen, fangirl, because I don’t want to repeat myself again. I know the man hunting the Scorched Archer, and he is the most capable, cunning son of a bitch I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He helped mold me into the man I am today, not to mention how he helped me deal with this horrid thing.”

  He pulls back his sleeves, exposing his bracers as the beast pulses beneath them, “His name is Davon Yemer, he’s the Messenger of the Division, and with him on the Scorched Archer’s tail, she’s as good as dead, but if by the very slim chance she somehow survives the encounter and comes here…”

  Adamus rolls the sleeves of his jacket back into place, flexing them with an unnerving grin that sends a chill down Cassandra’s spine. “I’ll kill her myself.”

  Adamus chuckles as Cassandra squirms in her seat.

  The pair’s conversation is barely audible in the sea of life that occupies the tavern, but in that one moment, Cassandra can only hear Adamus’s comment and the unbridled malevolence it displays.

  It isn’t just another boast of ego.

  He fully intends to go through with it if the opportunity ever arises.

  Adamus won’t hesitate. The Scorched Archer will die by his hands.

  “Nadeden is relentless,” Cassandra mutters to herself, recalling all the times she bathed in the words of her favorite tales. She had let herself drown in that legend of the woman whose arrows burned like fire that pierced the cosmos, if only to escape her own torment. “Even in blood and fire, she refuses to back down. She’ll fight until the last breath.”

  “Uh, huh.” Adamus nods, his boredom growing.

  “I hope she does come here…” Cassandra whispers so low that Adamus can’t make out a single word.

  “The Elf Of Death is better, y’know,” Adamus interjects, desperately trying to salvage what little goodwill he has left, “She could destroy entire armies with her voice alone. I could take the Scorched Archer no problem, but her? She would be a real challenge.”

  “I don’t care for fairytales, Adamus.” Cassandra huffs, fully prepared to abandon this annoyingly lively tavern and run off into the night.

  “Please, there are plenty of historical accounts of Triminiv, and she wrote plenty of them herself. I know that some claim that they were fabricated, but-”

  “Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.” Adamus gazes up at the harsh, feminine voice belonging to a woman about his age with a stylish hairdo and an outfit that reveals far too much.

  “I told you to never come back here, and you take that as bring another girl?” Adamus shrinks at her scolding words as she turns to Cassandra. “Sorry about him, sweetie. Sadly, Adamus doesn’t just think with his dick, he is one as well!”

  Sweat pours down Adamus’s warm skin. The beast moves beneath his bracers again.

  He chooses to do what he does best once more, “Uh, hey, Selano! Long time no see, this is Cassandra Soryu, she-”

  “Wait? This is the Republic brat you’re supposed to marry, right?” Selano points at Cassandra, then quickly points at Adamus in disgust.

  “Well…” Adamus’s cheeks turn a shameful beet red.

  “You really are unbelievable.” Selano draws out the scornful words, the whole tavern now watching the scene.

  “Did he tell you about this place?”

  Cassandra shakes her head at Selano’s question; the eyes of the tavern stripping her of her voice.

  “This is the spot he takes all his little girlfriends to. He butters them up with compliments and cheap food!” Selano snatches a pint off a nearby table and pours it onto Adamus’s curled hair and noble garb, “Then once you’re nice and full, the ambience wears on ya, he notices you’re getting a headache and pops the question!”

  The patrons trade hushed murmurs at the scene. “Wanna go back to my place?” Adamus now reeks of more than just sweat as Selano continues to tear him down. “Then, know what he does? After treating you to that magical night? After thinking that you’ve finally met a good guy who comes from a good family?”

  The Tavern is silent now as Selano speaks, “He doesn’t visit you!”

  Cassandra’s embarrassment begins to rival Adamus’s

  “He doesn’t write to you!”

  Adamus’s embarrassment is large enough to fill the entire planet.

  “He doesn’t even say hello when you pass him on the street!” Selano clutches another pint and dunks it straight onto Adamus’s head, letting it rest there.

  The mead flows over his red nose as Selano aims a fingernail at it. “Even if you go out with him for a full eight weeks, he’ll still treat you like you’re invisible.”

  Adamus bites his lip before correcting her, “It was seven and a half.”

  Selano smashes a fist onto the table, shaking the entire tavern as she turns to Cassandra. “Adamus Atheneum is nothing but a womanizing piece of shit. If I were you, I’d call that out from the top of the Division Plaza as loud as I can and move the galaxies to call off that wedding because gods forbid a girl have to put up with this self-righteous pervert!”

  Cassandra lets a smirk slip its way onto her lips at Selano’s passionate warning and Adamus’s well-deserved humiliation.

  “Believe me,” Cassandra sneers, “I’m considering it.”

  Selano smiles as someone deep within the tavern snickers at the statement.

  Adamus rises from the booth, tosses the empty pint glass to the floor, and marches away from the judging eyes of the patrons.

  The beast is pounding inside him, begging to be let out.

  “Whatever, I don’t need this.” He grunts, slamming the door on his way out, “I don’t need any of you.”

  Selano slides into the booth as the tavern returns to its former state of drunken affairs.

  Her arm wraps around Cassandra, she flinches at the touch but hides her discomfort.

  “He slept with my sister a week after breaking up with me.” Selano hangs her head. “That’s what tipped me off. The nerve of some people, huh?”

  She turns to Cassandra, who gazes at the wall to avoid eye contact. “Yeah, some people.”

  Selano misreads the situation, squeezing Cassandra tighter. “Hey, don’t let him get to you…”

  Selano lets her arm off Cassandra at the approach of a tall, pale man hiding his face beneath the hood of a workman’s coat. His breath is slow, and his eyes are still. If he weren’t standing, Cassandra might have assumed he was dead.

  “What do you want?” Selano asks, prepared to defend Cassandra.

  “I want to talk about the man who just walked out of here.”

  Selano folds her arms. “Ha! What did I offend you? You wanna stick up for that piece of shit?”

  The man reaches into his coat. His actions are rigid, unnatural. “No.” He coldly states, placing a small folded paper on the table before plopping himself down in the alcohol soaked cushion where Adamus once sat.

  Cassandra slowly leans forward to unfold the paper. The pale man’s cold eyes move to watch her, but the rest of his body remains frozen.

  Selano carefully studies him as Cassandra examines the paper in confusion.

  “What is this?” She asks, squinting at the childish illustration of a box in the center of a room covered in runes and miscellaneous ones and zeros.

  “That’s what’s beneath the Division Plaza. That’s what made Adamus able to turn into that creature and what unleashed the Rusting.”

  Selano laughs as she stands. “Yeah, sure! Clearly, you have a taste for crazy Republic girl!”

  She affectionately slaps Cassandra’s shoulder before leaving, “Name’s Selano Reo, if you want to look me up later and tell me how things went with tall, not dark, and definitely not handsome here. But as for now, stay away from Adamus, that boy is bad news!”

  She waves goodbye before stepping out the door, being sure to walk in the complete opposite direction of the Division Plaza and Coliseum on her way back home.

  However, Cassandra hardly notices Selano leave. She keeps her eyes on the paper. “This made the Rusting?”

  The pale man nods. “Gelmidas Atheneum’s wish is responsible for killing off my species. Only two of us remain.”

  Cassandra stares down the pale man. “Your species?”

  The man scans the tavern to be sure that he isn’t being watched as he unbuttons his coat.

  “I’m a Machinist.”

  Cassandra’s eyes widen as she lurches over the table, her entire body shudders at the horrific sight of the hole in the man’s chest where the consciousness transfer device was used.

  “You can call me Smith.” He says in a voice as dead as he once was.