Luther Gottfried von Krieger's Story

Luther

“Another Battle Royale…” Luther chimed somewhat distractedly. It certainly had been an eventful day so far, but aren’t they supposed to be, it was an event after all, and the event of events on Isallia, so naturally they had to be eventful. What had intrigued him was the appearance of Liandre. He had never known the petite thing to even feign indifference to the games.

“Obviously Lovely Little Liandre must be lost! Maybe I should help to keep her entertained!”

The sudden outburst from Luther did not stir his parents’ gaze from the match down-below; a tiny girl who had already fought in several matches looked to be making this one quick. “Do not be a bother Luther. A public spectacle today would be most unfortunate…” His father half-heartedly mumbled through the side of his mouth.

“But father, how is a young nobleman to stay amused?” Luther knew very well how important the Battle Royale was to his father, and the question was meant to goad him into distraction, even if for a moment.

It worked. Gottfried, the fire-eyed general and reluctant father to Luther, angled his head just slightly to the left as to direct a determined stare in his young heir’s direction. Only for a moment though. A pity, this must be a favorite fighter of his.

“Well, before I lose the chance at running into my future-fiancé and sweeping her off her feet!”

“Be careful not to scare this one, dear, if only for my sake.” His mother, Johanna von Krieger, had grown accustomed to his general routine where it concerned women. Thankfully she had never actually brokered a true marriage for Luther out of fear of this possibility.

“I told you Mother, the last one did not like biting!” With that Luther swept himself up and hurriedly shuffled down the hallway towards the booth in which Liandre was observing the events down below. He would run, as per his usual with a few slides and scurries to better correct his course, but the gaudy outfit his father had him wear to these events was suffocating to say the least.

It was the typical kind of uniform an officer of the military would wear whilst at some form of social event. All of it was red and gold, an abhorrent combination to Luther who preferred his spectacular black ensemble that accentuated his hair so well, and somewhat tight. Red leather gloves and boots with golden lace covered his appendages until their first major joint, with a white leotard underneath to highlight the blasted colors. The red silk skirt always made him feel somewhat more comfortable, if only because it reminded him of the frock incident, even though it was very unflattering to his figure, in his own opinion, and hung down to his knees. The shirt was another catastrophe, the big, buttony, frilly thing seemed to hug his body much too tightly for his own tastes. Why did all of it have to be so…traditional!

What was most inconvenient was the sword strapped around his waist. True, he rather enjoyed sword-fighting for the elegance in style for which one could strive, but the sheath always slapped up against the back of his knees unless he kept one hand on the hilt. Luther had always assumed soldiers were just trying to compensate for other things by holding on to a long piece of steel, but the first time he had to strap a sword-belt on he knew it was for self-preservation.

It was not long before he came striding up to the door for which he was seeking though, and the young nobleman tried to bow his way past the guards, muttering official-sounding things as he had learned to do. Usually this method worked, but this time was different. The shafts of two pole arms crossed themselves right in his path and the young Luther had no choice but to right himself before the guards.

“Hang on there m’lord, excuse me for bein’ so blunt, but it won’t be that easy if ya ken.”

“But Victor, tis only me, the gentlemanly Luther von Krieger! I am sure their royal highnesses will not mind a visit from such a well-mannered and sophisticated nobleman such as myself.” Fortunately Luther’s taste for roaming the city and drinking in various pubs meant he had frequent, friendly contact with many of the guards who protected the palace. Unfortunately they also had frequent, friendly contact with Luther.

“Now just hang on a moment there m’lord. You know the protocol; I must inform the royal family of you presence first and then I can permit you entrance should they deign to do so.” The only reason Victor happened to be so familiar with Luther, cutting out much of the formality a guard would normally show a nobleman, is because Luther insisted upon a generally more relaxed tone when speaking to them, though he had not been able to convince the man to call him Luther yet and not the haughty-sounding, “m’lord.”

“Well, yes, but that takes so much time, and I have but precious seconds few to spare!” Luther clapped his hands together feverishly and tried to make a puppy-dog expression to convey his desire for sympathy. The look never took to him very kindly.

“Don’t go makin’ that face in there m’lord or you’ll scare the princess!” With that Victor opened the door and quickly entered, shutting it somewhat brusquely to avoid the possibility of Luther slipping around his companion and inside the booth.

Orfhlaith sat in the seat beside the King. Where she was forced to sit. Where she was always forced to sit. She had to make sure that her prediction would be correct. Which it would. It always was. The red head swivelled her eye to look at the guards that stood either side of her. As if they could hold her there. She had seen what they would do if she tried to leave without permission. Three times she was stabbed, seven she was knocked unconscious and twice she was beheaded. Yum. Just what you want to see before breakfast. Orfhlaith crossed her legs and looked down at her flinching hand. It clawed at the air desperately, twisting in its joints maniacally. She pressed down hard on the limb and made a face as the movement became more frantic.

Really. You don't seem to understand you are a limb. If I press down, you wouldn't suffocate. She grumbled mentally, outwardly showing no emotion. The royals were looking forward, eyes trained on the Battle Royale. The overseer fought the urge to yawn. Of course the woman with the metal flaw was going to win. You didn't have to be a seer to know that. Orfhlaith let the corners of her mouth curl slightly as the Flawed put in her opinion on the announcer's mic. Ah, so she did opt for the hand gesture. Lovely. Orfhlaith was concerned that it wouldn't happen. A one in three chance but she knew she didn't have to worry. Her previous visions told her this was one who had to be watched. The princess had obviously "chosen" a good champion...the red head smirked. Oh, how the princess tried to hide things. Obviously she had forgotten about her palace's plaything. The overseer frowned as her hand shot up into the air and then settled back down. The muscles were really starting to hurt from all the constant moving. Orfhlaith looked up in time to see one of the Flawed fighting get stabbed in the back of the head. The blood gushed and was soaked into the thing's fur. She sighed. This was getting boring. She had to leave sooner or later. The red head couldn't very well stay here all day. There was something else about to happen. Something much more important. But before Orfhlaith could put her plan into action, an unwanted presence was behind her. She rolled her red eye. Really. You didn't need visions to know this guy was coming. You could smell his cheap aftershave a mile or ten away.

"Good day to you too." Orfhlaith whispered, eye still fixated upon the match in front of her. Oh dear, that was all the blood splatter they could muster? How dreadfully boring, even more so than normal. The overseer heard a little intake of breath and smiled viciously.

"Oh, I do apologise. You haven't quite managed to relieve yourself of that deplorable pick up line. I am oh so sorry. Do let us start again. Here, you say your bit and I'll just pretend I've never heard it before." The overseer replied monotonously. Honestly, does this man never give up? Not even here, in the Battle Royale, surrounded by the Royals? Desperation was not the word.

"Oh, Orly, you know I love it when you do that!" The overseer winced at the name.

"Call me that horrendous name and I shall have to take action. When in relation with that name and by extention, you, may my thoughts be bloody or nothing worth." Orfhlaith spoke almost melodically, imagining an actor speaking the part. Silence greeted her. Of course.

"Oh, of course. Hamlet? Shakespeare? No? Thought as much. Being uncultured must be awful. I really feel for you." The overseer reverted back to her flat tone, eye glazing over as a new lot of visions came into focus. Boring, boring, oh, a murder, boring, boring, knew his wife was going to have an affair, boring, boring, blah, blah, blah, really, he couldn't tell his girlfriend was cheating on him? Orfhlaith rolled her eye. You didn't have to be the overseer to know that she was two more layers of make-up away from standing on the street corner. The redhead sighed and forced herself to listen to the guard's babbling.

"Comm'on, love! Jus' one drink?"

"Which you shall spike full of some not so legal drugs to get me in sleep with you? Get thee to a nunnery..." The overseer muttered, before looking up at the man for the first time.

"Oh and how is Anya? Still doing the drug runs?" She asked sweetly, watching as his face paled. Ha. He had forgotten she would know. Poor woman was ripped apart after she stole the substance. He had helped. A little cruel for an ex lover but ah, priorities. Besides. There was worse ways to die. Another bomb vision wormed its way into Orfhlaith's mind. Oh great. New bomb, new problems. Where were they finding this decrepit excuses for weapons?

When Orfhlaith finally concentrated on her surroundings, she almost swore (but didn't. Would be terribly improper to call someone a son of a female dog with the King beside you). She didn't have much time left. The overseer stood without thinking and winced as a hard grip clutched her left wrist, stopping her from leaving. Her hand writhed beneath the too tight grip and the redhead was forced to look at the King. His meaty fist was clutched around her slender arm and Orfhlaith felt the eyes of the Royals bore into her. She washed her face of any emotion, looking no one in the eye.

"Where are you going?" The King asked, eyes glinting. Orfhlaith took a deep breath before giving the King a smile that would never reach her eyes. He didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, nowhere. A lady does have to visit the ladies room every now and then, m'lord." The overseer spoke clearly, her voice laced with innocence she didn't possess. She watched as the King's tight grip loosened just as she knew it would. He clasped her left hand gently and Orfhlaith was never as thankful as she was now that her hand never obeyed her. She would have wanted to slap the man. Instead her limb now hung thankfully limp. The King moved her hand gently to his lips and let her wrist go. She felt like shuddering as his lips brushed her skin. Fantastic. Now she would actually have to go to the wash room to get rid of the vile essence on her hand.

"Do hurry now. I never like to have you too far from hand during these times." Orfhlaith didn't have to be a mind reader to grasp the hidden meaning behind that statement. I need to keep you under control and keep my status. "My champion shall be fighting soon, my dear, and I would like to have you nearby to watch." You better be right.

The red head nodded solemnly and hurried out of the Royal's box, stepping around the princess who would try to trip her up. Really, jealously was so childish. Although that horrid woman was very childish even though she was pregnant. She hadn't told her king as she wasn't married yet. And everyone knew what a bastard son could do in the delicate balance of the Royals. Orfhlaith had thought about telling the King but regrettably decided not to. Even though the scandal would be simply delicious, Orfhlaith was smart enough to know when to wait. Besides, when the child was five, that was when things would get very entertaining. The overseer stepped out of the Royal's box, side stepping the noble man outside. This must be Luther, the one who was after Princess Liandre. The overseer smiled cattily. Oh, it was nice to know things before the people themselves did. Orfhlaith gave the nobleman a thin smile before hurrying away. Time was of the essence and she had to be there at just the right time. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers just as Orfhlaith passed her first "checkpoint". The overseer smiled her Cheshire Cat grin.

Right on time.

Perfect.

The princess turned her head to the side gently, lashes tilted downwards as she shielded her vision from the sight of the death matches. As it always had, the mere premise of such barbaric activities made her uneasy and sick to the stomach. Already, the sinking feeling had settled within her and her chest felt heavy with the knowledge that just below her, one of the combatants was going to die shortly. It was a horrifying sport yet the people had come to adore it.

She grimaced, forcing herself to open one lime-green eye an shift her gaze over to the man sitting meters from her. King Resdreillhm, the man who seemed to enjoy these games more than anyone, was tilted forwards in his seat with unnaturally eager anticipation. He had specially invited her to his booth once he learned this would be her first year attending the "festivities", as he called them. The warped light in his eyes as he stared at the proceedings of the match made her question faintly why he always seemed so excited to see the carnage. Outside of the Battle Royale, in fact, the kingdom did not indulge in idle wars--the king was always conscious when it came to losing his own men. But when it came to the flawed...

The petite fingers balled up into a tightened fist at the thought. He did not care and a king like that was not the man she wanted to be resided over by. A shuffling noise and a flutter of a red skirt brought Liandre's eyes further down the line, where a young woman stood up and walked around the back of the king's seat. For a moment, the woman and the girl met in gaze but the moment passed quickly as the other turned and left the booth. Just as she did so, a guard slid into the area, straightening and walking over to the king. The guard bowed slightly, whispering something in the man's ear. Whatever it was, made the king let out a shout of bitter laughter, turning his eyes upon her.

"Liandre dear," The use of the endearment only made her cringe but she hid it behind a soft, inquisitive smile. "It would appear you've caught the unfortunate attentions of Luther." Raised eyebrows from the princess indicated she had no idea who this was. Luther? The name did sound familiar, though she had only heard it in passing during a formal event with the von Kriegers. The faint whispers that she had heard, the son was not much of a source of pride for the father, but that was as far as she could guess.

The king waved his hand, clearly not waiting for her judgement to tell the guard a response. "Let him in," The man said gruffly. "If he pulls anything funny, throw him over the side of the balcony." The guard bowed once more and left through the curtains to the door in the back, leaving Liandre to ponder just what Luther could be like to warrant such odd behavior.

Whilst Luther was waiting for Victor to return from inside of the royal booth a somewhat peculiar woman wearing red stepped out, grinning slyly at Luther as she passed. His curious gaze followed her as she walked away, his head turning to the left slightly as he did so whilst one of his trade-mark smirks began to spread across his face. Something about all the red, despite his abhorrence for the bright color, mixed with her pale skin seemed delicious, but it was the twitchy hand she had which truly intrigued him. It seemed so much… fun.

Fortunately it did not take long for the guard to return, and at the most opportune time of seeing Luther’s head become nearly parallel with his neck. A polite cough was used to catch the young royal’s attention. “The King has permitted your audience m’lord. Do behave yourself in there; I wouldn’t want to have to throw a drinking buddy over the balcony if ya ken.”

“I wouldn’t need to behave myself if everyone else was less dull and obtuse! Don’t worry yourself though; I have no choice on the matter during the Battle Royales.”

The guards barely had a moment to spare to move their pole-arms from his path before Luther barreled his way, politely, through the doorway. As per usual King Resdrollhm was engrossed in the match taking place before him as were the others in the royal retinue, all except the lovely, little Liandre. What on Isallia could have prompted her to come to these games?

“Good day to you my liege, I hope these games are proving to be as exciting as ever, yes?” Luther forewent the traditional hand-kissing nonsense most of the Nobility went about doing with the King, a fortunate luxury his singular personality provided, for some reason most people considered his condition to be contagious. They wished it was so. His queer-smile returned soon though as he approached Princess Liandre.

He intentionally positioned himself to her right so that when he bent over to take her left hand and kiss it that he would be blocking her view of the carnage taking place down below. Even at such an orthogonal position his clothing refused to sag in the slightest…so uncomfortable.

“Dear Liandre, what a surprise it is to see your beautiful visage grace our presence on this day.” One of the King’s retinue grudgingly offered up their seat next to the princess as Luther nearly sat down on top of the unfortunate soul. “To think I haven’t seen you since the gala at my family’s manor! Of course I would go into hiding too after any event hosted by my father, the dreadful man didn’t even have any entertainment planned! Please dear…,” His gaze drifted down to look upon her hands, which he had somehow come to clasping, and he raised them up, also bringing his face closer to them for a keener inspection, “Oh my, you have such dainty little hands, how adorable,” Luther said sincerely as he dropped both of them and the gaze directed at them, instead bringing it to look her squarely in the eyes, a practice many Royals found disquieting, “You must tell what brings you here today! Don’t worry; you’ve no need to feel like telling me the truth. I would love to hear whatever outrageous tales YOU have to offer me!”

Liandre eyed the man from beneath full lashes, who smiled down at her kindly. It was odd for a royal to be so open and so energetic, most were rather posh and collected. But the way this prince regarded her was direct. In a way, it was heart-warming but she couldn't help but feel it was almost too direct. Royals avoided such blatant eye contact, after all, to avoid offending each other.

A faint blush coated her cheeks as she attempted to answer his line of questioning. "A-Ah, well... it..." She stuttered, wondering how best to go about this. He did say she could exaggerate, for all extents and purposes. And the young princess had read quite a number of books in the palace libraries so she knew many tales and stories. With this in mind, she pushed a strand of her blue hair behind her ear and spoke once more. "It started off as a wondrous mission, you see, to a far away land full of fierce, women warriors. They belonged to a rather large tribe and once a year, would do battle with a male tribe that also lived on the island." As she spoke, she gained a bit more confidence in her story-telling and licked her lips before continuing.

"The champion I chose was in fact from this tribe of women and is the fiercest of them all. She wished me to be present so I could witness her bring honor to her heritage." She heard a nearby royal clear their throat, though no one objected to her story. Why should they? No one knew precisely where Eiurin came from and her fighting prowess raised quite a number of questions. So why not create an extravagant story to fit the metal woman? Liandre paused, finally having paid attention to the fact that Luther was holding her petite digits in his own. She gently drew her hands back and placed them in her lap, trying her best at a light laugh. She really was bollocks at this royal thing.

She moved her gaze downwards, unable to hold his stare any longer. They were unsettling, those eyes! Bore right into the very depth of her person and this feeling made her shiver slightly. Liandre faintly wondered if this was how most people were and if she merely had missed it simply because she always avoided contact. She took a deep breath, still speaking to him in her dainty, small voice whilst staring at her lap.

"I-I apologize, I'm not very good at this... sort of thing..." She trailed off shortly and fidgeted. What was the polite way of cutting off these conversations? She was anxious to check up with Eiurin. The Battle Royale was a few rounds in and she wanted to be sure that the woman was holding up okay. Mind, Eiurin would probably tell her she was needlessly worrying but still... She couldn't help it. The woman had agreed to help her and it was the least the princess could do to check up on her.

What a pity, she’s even more shy than most. Luther lamented to himself, it would certainly be a chore trying to make this one rise from her shell. Good, he loved a good challenge to be had. The young Royal let out a light chuckle at the conclusion of her little story; it was definitely amusing, if somewhat hard to swallow. He did enjoy a good tale every now and again, and luckily the young princess had risen up to the challenge well enough for the moment.

“Oh no my dear, it was marvelous, well done Liandre, you should see the look on most people’s faces when I ask them to tell me a story. It’s almost as if they believe I’m a child!”

The princess had retreated back into her shell even further by then, trying desperately to avoid Luther’s gaze. I couldn’t have scared her off already, I’ve been much too reserved to have done anything like that. He noticed Liandre shivering slightly, it was actually quite a nice day, but the girl was a dainty little thing and the balcony seats did tend to catch a decent breeze for the better part of the day. Adding that to just daring the thought of spending the day with the King was enough to make Luther shiver, much like he did when looking at the uniform he was forced to wear.

A brilliant thought struck Luther’s mind suddenly. Obviously the poor girl must be intimidated by the audience, that could be the only reason she was so easily turning from his brilliant charm, and here he was thinking he had scared her somehow. The only choice he had left was to get her away from the King and company for a short while, everyone needed to stretch their legs occasionally did they not? This would give him ample time with her alone, thus allowing her the privacy to open up more; well that was the plan anyway.

Luther stood up hurriedly, and luckily his impeccable sense of timing came at the end of a match. There had not been a single intermission between any matches so far, so one could not possibly be far off, depending upon how the King was feeling that might be a long while. Not to worry, the young Liandre looked to be having a dreadful time just thinking about the fighting taking place down below them.

“Dear Liandre, would you care to accompany me on a stroll? By the looks of that shiver you seem to have a chill, and nothing warms the body up better than a nice walk! There’s also the chance you could visit your competitor quickly, I doubt her next match is going to be soon,” Luther turned towards the King and bowed deeply, sweeping his right hand outwards and tucking his left across his waist, “That is if your majesty has no qualms,” He turned his head towards Liandre this time, “And naturally if you desire so Princess.”

The small hand in her lap tightened as the girl considered his words. While she did desire to leave the viewing stands, she planned on doing it alone. There were things to discuss with Eiurin, things that could only be discussed between the two females. However, she had a feeling it would be improper and rude to decline his invitation. The king had already reclined back in his seat and regarded the pair with a nonchalant expression.

"I doubt your charms will be enough to win her over, boy. You've had little success among the high tier royal families. However, I do believe a break is in order. Liandre, entertain his company." The princess bowed her head in defeat, careful to hide the disappointment in her eyes. She was a princess and it was naturally upon her shoulders to sometimes do things that she may not prefer to do. So it was with a heavy heart that she lifted her head, smiling as warmly as she could at Luther.

"Thank you for your offer," She said, hair sweeping behind her as she took his outstretched hand, using it to steady herself as she stood up straight. She cast a look over her shoulder at the king, who had gone back to disregarding their existence. A crease in her brow and a small bite to her bottom lip was the only sign of displeasure she'd show towards that man. She quickly reconstructed her look into her most pleasant for Luther as they exited from the booth.

Perhaps it looked a bit odd, now that she thought on it. They were getting a lot of odd looks from passerby. The small girl assessed herself next to him, his silver, gray-ish hair and her azure, blue locks. She was a good head or two below him in height and much more petite to top it. But perhaps it wasn't the bizarreness of their outwards appearances that were making people stare. Now that she thought on it, she had heard just a bit more concerned Luther--words spoken by his father at the gala. She remembered faintly that there was talk of him being a lady's man and a charmer, and compounded with the king's words, she could not help but feel this was true.

She looked up at him but said nothing, having eased her hand out of his the instant they had left the stands. The walk from the viewing platform all the way down to the visiting area (restricted and only royals were allowed access to see their champions) was surprisingly short. Considering that with her small golden key, she was able to give them a lift in the steam-powered elevator that took them straight down several stories to the area. She had down here only once, when she had first seen Eiurin off before the tournament began. She rather hoped the woman wouldn't mind a surprise visit...

Moments later and they had arrived at the bottom-most floor. One of the guards saw them and for a second, she could've sworn she saw Luther and the guard exchange a look. Did he know the castle staff...? She dismissed the thought as the guard bowed to her.

"A-Ah, My Lady, what brings you down here with... ah... the young Lord?" The guard ended hesitantly, shifting his gaze to Luther's in a somewhat accusatory manner. Liandre admittedly had no idea what was going on so she decided to ignore it, for now.

"I-I'm here to visit my champion, Luther offered to escort me. Would you mind terribly...?" She said in her shy voice. The guard blushed lightly as he complied, opening the door but shooting a glare to Luther as he did so. "Thank you," She said, embarrassment highlighting her voice in an undertone. She was at a loss for how to separate herself from the prince and privately hoped Eiurin had some sort of plan for that. She walked down the corridor, passing by several empty cells--empty holding pens now for the dead flawed. She felt her chest tighten as she forced her eyes away from such a sight.

"I'll save them somehow..." She thought with a melancholic air, for it was the only way to comfort herself. Exactly five doors down and two to the left was the room Eiurin was being kept in. The slot at the top was a bit too high up for her so she shakily stood up on her tiptoes to barely see inside.

"E-Eiurin?" She called softly, gripping the edges of the viewing window to keep herself from stumbling backwards. Sometimes, she disliked being so short. Eiurin was laying on the bed, knees bent and legs crossed, arms behind her head. At the sound of her name, the flawed turned, golden orbs narrowing.

"Oh, the prissy noble girl, what an honor." She said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Eiurin did not bother to stand but her eyes passed over Liandre as she gazed behind the princess, seeing the man behind her. The metal user narrowed her eyes carefully and addressed him with a much colder tone. "Oi, stupid wise-ass, this isn't some playpen or brothel. Go find your fuck-buddy elsewhere." Liandre flinched at the language and settled on her feet normally to peer at Luther with concern.

"I-I'm sorry, w-what she means to say is--"

"I said what I meant." Eiurin spoke up loudly to cut her off. "Piss off, prince-boy, short-stuff obviously came to talk to me and was just being the polite princess she is and didn't tell you no earlier." With that, the woman simply stared at Luther with cool indifference. It did not matter if she was in this cell and he was outside. Regardless, she'd still be able to beat him to a pulp and made sure he knew it to by the intensity of her look. Stupid royal playboys.


The King’s insult forced a chuckle from between clenched teeth. It was true he had little, honestly no, success with any women hailing from Royalty. His reputation as a womanizer was somewhat unfounded, although it was true he did lay with the occasional peasant and tried a bit harder than any would at wooing a maiden, but what truly hurt his chances with any Royalty was the perception as him being unsound of mind. Just because someone wanted to do things differently, wanted to experience life without all the burdensome tradition, they were marked as an outcast amongst the upper-echelons of society. That was the main reason he frequented the common-taverns and acted as he usually did, if they did not like his way of thought then they could all be damned.

Liandre’s half-hearted smile was nearly enough to break Luther altogether at this point, as if the dreadful suit his father made him wear during times like these was not enough to do so. Honestly, all of the frills, they were just ghastly! He went on through with the motions though, using his outstretched arm to help balance the young princess as she stood up on those rather uncomfortable-looking high heels. He should know how uncomfortable they might be, the frock incident again you see. When they finally exited the spectator stands though, despite his already sinking heart, Luther let out one of his trademark laughs.

He waited a few moments, long enough for them to leave earshot, before breaking the somewhat tense silence. “Oh dear Liandre, you are very brave, inept, or desperate, and probably some combination of the three to actually take me up on my offer! You do realize just how this will look don’t you? I mean, most people consider me to be some diseased, lunatic whom they’re waiting to find running through the streets stark-raving mad and naked one of these days don’t you?” Another peal of laughter burst forth from Luther’s gut after happily speaking about the truth of the matter.

The giddy Royal, for what else was there to be but giddy in such a world full of tedium and hate, twirled around nonchalantly and began to walk backwards, perching his right hand behind his head and using his left to steady the sword at his hip. Everyone had already started to look at them as per usual, something he had grown accustomed to bearing, but the Princess might not be as familiar with the phenomenon.

It seemed he had been correct in his assumption, for not soon after he had turned had Luther noticed the Princess become somewhat more…aware of the kind of looks being aimed their way. Some people just take too long to catch on don’t they? “You know, you’re about to earn quite the reputation being seen with me in public. I’m not quite sure why though, apparently only harlots deign to spare me the time of day. That’s not quite true if I may say so myself, I’ve really only slept with a few on accident, it can be quite hard to tell when a woman really does like you when drinking is involved, not quite so much when you’re not though. I would have to say my one fatal flaw would be I love a good chase, is it my fault there are no women amongst the Royalty capable of withstanding a man of my singular magnificence?”

Things were much quieter after this particular burst of conversation, if just for the fact that Luther was intent upon humming a tune from the play, “I Want to Be Your Canary,” which had been playing in the area for some time now. He even continued to hum the tune whilst they were thundering down to the visiting area in the deafening steam elevator, honestly how could they have been using this technology for so long but still not learn how to soften the noise just a smidge?

Luther had been down in the visiting area many times, but for the most part that was when he was still young and his father was grooming him to be his pride and joy, it was such a pity not everyone could be as enthused with Luther as he was with himself. Nowadays he came in much less frequently; sometimes his father bothered to ask his opinion on a fighter, and that usually came with mixed responses from his father. Occasionally he was in tune with his father’s thinking, in which case he would receive a slight nod of approval if they proved capable and forced to admit his failures as a human being should they prove otherwise, and other times he would be ignored should he think differently. The guards were the same though, some were friends who loved to drink with him, and others wanted to strangle the life out of him, most wanted to do some of both.

Just a few nods here, a couple of winks there, and many smiles later and they finally reached Liandre’s destination, the cell of the fiery-woman who seemed to spew metal from her pores. A laugh bellowed forth from his gut at the response he received, it had been at least three days since someone had insulted him in such a way, it was quite endearing actually. “There’s no need for apologies Princess, this one is feisty isn’t she? Oh my, there is someone I do hope you can meet someday, he’s a rather good friend of mine, and you are of a similar demeanor if I’m not mistaken…I do believe he is afraid of a good woman though, is there any chance you could help him out with that? I would be indebted to you if you could you know!

She certainly did have a mean stare, but nothing compared to his father’s the day he wore that frock. In return Luther gave her one of his head-turned-sideways giant smiles and twiddled his fingers as a good-bye gesture. “Well Liandre,” He said whilst bowing deeply, “It was a pleasure meeting you! Hopefully I might be able to run into you again, but now I definitely must take off this atrocious outfit peacocks would be ashamed to wear! That and I must try and get to sleep sometime soon, I must tell my friend about your friend here…”

With that said Luther quickly twirled around and proceeded to wander amidst the visiting area. It would not be long before a guard asked him for his golden key as proof he was visiting his champion, of which he had neither, so there was nothing to do but enjoy the sights and maybe make a new friend.

Orfhlaith walked down the hall, her head held high and smile playing upon her lips. People stared. But don't they always? People had very little to keep their little minds amused anyway. Of course she was going to grab attention. She wasn't a royal yet she most definitely acted like one. She was also definitely a flawed. Her writhing hand proved that even if no one knew of her abilities. She was a half and half. She was a hybrid. She was, therefore, disgusted and feared. She didn't mind. Better to be feared than treated as a joke. But she watched as people looked in the royal box and saw her sitting beside the King. She knew what they all thought of her. More fool them. She swished her long hair out of her eyes as she went down the hall, annoyed at this minor problem. That bomb was much more trouble than it was worth. However it would do no good to be down in the flawed holding pens and explode. That would just be terribly inconvenient.

Besides, this was more of a double check of the double check. She was rather sure that the bomb wasn't going to explode but she really did not want to take that chance. And she wasn't all that sure the double check was all there.

Her hand convulsed violently, grasping at the air with desperate motions. She frowned at the limb. Now, really! Calm down! I have all this under control. No need to panic. To her surprise, her hand actually ceased its frantic movements apart from the occasional twitch. Orfhlaith nodded to herself. Apparently, talking to the hand actually worked. Oh, the irony.

So she moved down to the rooms where this monstrosity would be held. She leaned against the door frame, her red eye taking in the room. A large dirty blob of metal sat in the middle of the dark, messy room. Oil slicks were artfully dispersed around the floor and there was a lone scientist, working within the mechanisms. Orfhlaith rolled her eye and slowly moved forward. Her boots clicked against the floor, the noise distracting the scientist who looked at her in fear. Of course, she was merely a shadow to these people. A plaything of the King's. She grinned viciously before leaning over and flipping a switch.

"W-what are you doing?!" The man spluttered, holding a wench in a defensive position. Orfhlaith's red eye looked him up and down before she rolled her orb.

"Really, I was merely making sure we exist in the next half hour. Flipping the wrong switch? And you call yourself a scientist? Standards round here really are slipping." The overseer mused, her smile becoming slowly more vicious. The man looked terrified. She looked at the wench that he held and smirked. Now, this fight wasn't active in this time stream but really, it was too much fun not to re-enact.

"Now what are you going to do with that? I hope you weren't meaning to attack me. For, I, my dear, can simply slip away." With that the young woman moved gracefully to the left, stepping in behind the scientist and pulling him into a backwards stretch by grabbing his hair firmly. He looked her right in the eye as her left hand graced his thin reedy neck.

"As you can see, this position isn't very good for you. In fact, it's an awful position for you." A thin sharp knife slipped into her left hand and she quickly swapped positions. Her left hand held the man's head tightly, muscles convulsing every now and then, earning slight whimpers from the scientist. In her right hand, the knife lightly caressed the man's artery.

"Now, there is a little lesson to this scene. Do you wish to hear it?" She cooed gently as he gulped hard. His Adam's Apple bobbed and she let out a little hiss as the knife pressed down hard against the throat. He slowly nodded and the redhead grinned. Suddenly, the hold, knife and young woman were no longer behind the scientist and he fell to the dirty floor with a thud. He looked up and found himself face to face with the crouched young woman, who smiled viciously.

"The lesson is, my dear, always flip the right switch, Artem Jater, or you will have to answer to me." And with that, the overseer stood up and strode out of the room. She could almost feel the fear from out in the hall and the vision of everyone horribly dying was also gone. A win-win situation all round. The overseer let loose a peal of laughter as she made her way to the flawed pens. It was now time for the main attraction. The big event was just about to start and she was going to have fun playing her part. Oh, so much fun.

"Roll up, roll up." Orfhlaith laughed again, eye flashing. "The show is about to start."

~~~

Orfhlaith made her way around the flawed pens without hanging around. She didn't exactly enjoy being down here as it reminded her of a fate she just missed. If the government hadn't noticed what she could do, she would have been here. No. She would be dead. Orfhlaith knew that for sure. She had seen it enough times, flashes of her own vocal chords being turned into ribbons by monsterous claws, spears flying through her body to hit the opposite wall while leaving a trail of gore behind. Never pleasant. Seeing the future is all well and good and she may be able to foresee attacks but the King was known to release another flawed into the arena to speed things up a bit.

She wouldn't stand a chance, with or without her abilities.

Not that that would be her punishment. No, that would be a waste. She wouldn't get such a privilege. The redhead stopped and shuddered gently as flashes of memories flew to the forefront of her mind. The overseer growled to herself and moved those memories to the back of her head. She didn't need those right now. She had more important things to worry about at the moment. The redhead moved into the shadows to the left of an empty cage as the nobleman, Luther, passed by. Just on time. Good, good. Orfhlaith stood for a second, musing on who must have occupied this cage. Not that it mattered. In death, no one cared about the flawed. Come to think of it, they weren't all too important in life either.

Orfhlaith left the shadows and carried on her way. She passed many a flawed that she knew were going to die. The girl worrying her lip would be decapitated. The young man practising with a staff would be impaled upon a sword. The overseer closed her eyes as she passed the King's champion, a horrible animalistic thing with a slobbering jaw and claws as long as knives. She knew he/she/it would win. She had seen it. She also felt a tendril of doubt seeping into her mind but quickly dismissed it.

It would do no good to worry when you already knew the outcome.

She noticed that the blue haired princess was still conversing deeply with her "champion". The redhead knew she had at least five minutes before she should interrupt. This seemed as good a time as any to reorder her current visions. She stood against an empty cell and mentally flicked through the threads.

Hmm. Boring, boring, death, birth, sex, sex, flawed being turned into mush, apocalypse, theft, the King...Orfhlaith bit her lip hard. The King did not look happy she had been gone for so long. She grabbed her left hand tightly as it convulsed, obviously mirroring her anxiety and fear.

Stop it now. We both know that he wouldn't be a problem for us. Come on now. We have first impressions to make and it simply wouldn't do if you are panicking like that. Orfhlaith grinned as her left hand lessened it's movements. It was still twitching but at least it wasn't as bad anymore. The five minutes were up and Orfhlaith had things to do. She slinked behind the princess silently and leaned against the cage behind her, red orb glinting with an indistinct mix of emotions.

"Oh my. What do we have here? A party? How delightful. Am I invited, per chance?" The overseer asked, her malicious grin widening at the look on the princess' face. Too much fun, really.

(Eris) "No, fuck off. It looks like your period came hella early and screwed up your dress" A voice from inside the cell called out. Orfhlaith grinned and without skipping a beat, she returned the favour. Gladly.

"Looks like your period attracted wolves and they ate your dress." Then, moving away from the cage she leaned on and moving a little closer, she carried on with an expression of mocking thoughtfulness. "That or you shop at "Sluts-R-Us". I don't really care, true be told."

Before the woman inside the cage could reply or the princess could open her mouth, a call caught their attention.

"Orly!"

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy..." She turned to the two in front of her. "Excuse me two minutes." She turned and was greeted by that obnoxious face in front of hers. She let out a cough as his aftershave overpowered her senses.

"What do you want." The redhead asked, voice flat and emotionless. Her red eye flared underneath her red fringe. She knew what he was going to say but really, common courtesy dictated that she let him speak. Unfortunately.

"The King sent me to find you! He thought you had gotten lost, Orly!" The guard reached out and grabbed her wrist. The left one. Her hand instantly reacted by trying to claw at the man's hand. The overseer mentally praised her limb. Good job, dear. Finally doing something I want you do to.

"I am not lost and I do not wish to return to that vile man's side. And what have I told you about calling me that?" She hissed, eye a hard red. The guard frowned and went to pull the young woman to the Royal box. The redhead sighed heavily. Of course, she couldn't just listen to her. No, of course not. It wasn't as if she knew exactly, to the last detail, what was coming or anything like that. Oh, of course not. Mister Big, Brawny and Dumb over here obviously knew best.

He obviously didn't know her very well.

She didn't take to being forced into things kindly. The overseer pulled a thin dagger to her right hand and with controlled familiarity and ease, thrust it deeply into the man's shoulder. The guard bucked at the pain and fell to the ground, releasing Orfhlaith's arm. The overseer brushed her arm down casually and looked back up at the two women in front of her. She was about to carry on her conversation with the delightfully entertaining metal user inside when the guard on the floor groaned in pain. Orfhlaith rolled her eyes.

"Now really. Do be quiet. You are fine! Not in one single future do you die, which is a little disappointing really. A bit like opening that huge present in the corner for Christmas and discovering it was a hideous jumper..." The overseer trailed off, hands on hips, looking down at her victim. Her left hand drummed gently against her hip as the man groaned in agony. The guard eased an eye open and looked up at the red haired woman. He then slowly grinned.

"Heh. Anyone e-ever tell you t-that you look incredibly h-hot when you're angry?" The redhead blinked for a second, for once honestly confused. Sure, she had seen him say that in a vision but she didn't actually know he would say it.

"I just stabbed you and you are still trying to flirt with me?! I do not understand you, Torn. But that doesn't matter. Just keep quiet; I'm trying to have a civil conversation here." With that she looked back up at the princess and the flawed, hand writhing and locking in the muscles, with a catty grin stretching her features. She brushed back some red locks that had spilled upon her shoulder and look at the people in front of her. Her single red eye flashed in the low light.

"So. You were saying?"

Liandre

Liandre eyed the retreating figure of Luther, who had somehow taken Eiurin's insult rather well and casually played it off as he sauntered away. The princess watched him for only a few seconds more before leaning back up on her tiptoes to see inside the cell. The metal girl yawned, thick lashes falling over her eyes as she adjusted her position, lying on her back and putting her hands back behind her head. Liandre fidgeted. She had never been good at knowing quite how to approach the flawed, or even speak to her in a conversation for that matter. Eiurin had the unfortunate habit of making anyone nervous and for the petite girl, who barely socialized as it was, this made this much more difficult.

Her fingers shook from trying to support her weight as she gripped the frame of the viewing window. Eyebrows furrowed in determination, Liandre worked up her nerve to address her champion. "H-How are you feeling after the first match?" She inquired, trying a bit of an ice-breaker into the conversation. Eiruin liftedwhere up one of her hands, the tips of her fingers morphing into bits of sleek metal that she lifted to her lips. The woman flicked out her tongue, letting it slide up the steel with nonchalance.

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" The princess had to guess that this meant something along the lines of "well" and she nodded, adjusting her weight from one foot to the other.

"That's... that's good to hear!" She tried for a smile but the rather nasty look Eiurin shot her from underneath black lashes was enough to make Liandre falter. "U-Um... I wanted to speak things over with you--before the next round of matches." The blue-haired girl looked over her shoulder to make sure there were no guards in the vicinity. After verifying there was indeed no one, she pushed closer to the door and lowered her tones to whispers. "At this point... I-I believe only the strongest of the flawed will be left. From what I've researched, after we pass this round, we will move into an elimination round where all but two of the victors will be left alive." This was enough to make Eiurin actually turn her head towards the princess, though there was an odd smirk on her lips. Was the woman... amused...?

"Ah," Eiurin began with what seemed to be care. "So they want us to fight each other then. Pick each other off like lint off their clothes or some shit." Liandre flinched at the language but nodded all the same.

"R-Right. That's the moment I want to initiate my plan. It's the only time all of the remaining victors will be in the arena in any interval and the only... only chance we'll have to rescue everyone. And I was--" She was cut off by a rather firm wave of the hand by Eiurin, who had tensed up considerably. Liandre teetered on her heels, losing her balance faintly and nearly lost her grip on the window. She tried looking over her shoulders once more to see what had Eiurin so on edge. She needn't have made an effort to try and spot what was causing the woman discomfort for the presence identified themselves with a lilting voice.

"Oh my. What do we have here? A party? How delightful. Am I invited, per chance?" A rather unsettling grin came from the woman in red who had made herself known, shivers going down Liandre's spine. Eiurin clearly heard what was going on outside the door and spoke up in an irritated tone of voice, the usual harshness coming on a bit heavier.

"No, fuck off. It looks like your period came hella early and screwed up your dress." The princess immediately went to go object, there was no need for this fighting! It made her rather nervous anyway, and she was already anxious with this woman here. She was not sure who this woman was exactly, save that she lingered around the king. It did not seem like a fair assumption to think this was some high-class consort or brothel lady of sorts but why else would one linger around such a cruel man? He had all the advisers, informants, and other such members of the royal court right at his fingertips. But he never seemed to tire of collecting whores, so perhaps this woman was one of them. The wariness surely showed on her face for the red-haired woman's grin widened.

"Looks like your period attracted wolves and they ate your dress.That or you shop at "Sluts-R-Us". I don't really care, true be told." The vixen gave a fiery response indeed to Eiurin's quip. Liandre decided to fall silent, for it did not seem her voice was really of any significant merit in the current conversation. She could only hope her champion knew what she was doing.

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Eiurin

The metal woman in question was anything but amused as a frown overtook her features. The voice outside the door was deeper than the whelp-princess' and infinitely more annoying. She could just about see the woman from out of the corner of the window but had already turned her gaze away, looking back up at the ceiling. Eiurin didn't enjoy attention-whores or busy-bodies. She wasn't going to even attempt a response to this stupidly irritating woman who barged in on others. There was what sounded to be a crash outside as someone seemed to clamber into the hall outside. Really, what the fuck was it with all these damn intruders? A furrow of her brow indicated her quickly deteriorating mood.

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy... Excuse me two minutes." Came the voice of the red woman. Well, good fucking riddance. The princess was enough to deal with, she did not enjoy all these retarded visitors. Eiurin ignored the sounds that were coming from the hallway, instead focusing on rather artful ways to kill all the people who had come upon her today. Okay, besides blue-hair. She kind of needed that royal prissy-pants to get back to her home. After witnessing the ways of things in this city, she'd take her world any day of the week. There were a few more shuffling noise and what sounded to be like gasping pants (HA--anything sounded like sex when you couldn't see what the hell was going on) before the annoying voice spoke up again, sounding ruffled but playful.

"So. You were saying?" Eiurin bothered to look over towards the window, seeing the little princess flit her eyes nervously between the cell and the woman. The metal flawed shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't going to save miss socially-awkward twice in such a short span of time. Liandre seemed to come to grips with this and forced her small voice out.

"W-Well, um... My champion's just had a long day--I.. um, hope you'll understand?" The princess was using those appeasing tones of voice. Ugh, grated on her ears, that did. "I-In fact, it would be best if I returned to the proceedings... I was only wishing her good luck anyway. S-See you soon, my metal champion." Liandre was careful not to say Eiurin's name. Personally, the flawed did not see what the big deal was but apparently, names could be used by the steambot or some shit to track a person down. She didn't like taking orders from the princess but it'd be best to listen to the royal's words, at least while she was in this strange world of Isallia. It was with this line of thinking that Eiurin breathed out heavily and dismissed the girl in bored tones.

"Yeah yeah, what the fuck ever. Get lost," She said with a wave of her hand. That other woman better have also taken the hint. Eiurin did not want anymore visitors.

Luther

Luther was rather nonplussed with the competition this year’s Royale had gathered; of course he found this to be the case for practically every year. It was always so dull when you knew the outcomes of the Royale before it even started, a fact his father had never cared to admit was the truth. The King had some uncanny ability to choose the winner every year in a row, and even a simpleton could deduce by those results that there was plenty of book-cooking going on around here. None-the-less he continued to peruse the fighters currently penned in their cages and awaiting the next blood-bath to commence.

“Excuse me m’lord, but may I see your key?” The young guard, who must have been new due to the fact that Luther did not know his face, sternly inquired with a rather guard-like look slapped across his face.

Luther did love toying with the new ones. He reached inside of his shirt, where the key would be had he had one, and began to pat and search his body frantically as if he were looking for it. The expression on his face was overly-exaggerated and the gasp he let loose fit the expression perfectly, surely the guard would not be stupid enough to take this seriously. “My key, it’s gone! Some rogue must have picked my pocket; I demand the scoundrel be found immediately!”

The nobleman was unsure whether he was a better actor than previously thought, or the new-boot really was just that stupid, but the man immediately came to attention and began searching the room with a piercing gaze immediately. “Do you know what the perpetrator looked like m’lord?” It was so nice to finally meet a guard who didn’t suspect him of any mischievous activity… it had become such a rare occurrence as the years wore on.

Should he do it? Luther had the sudden urge to give the man Liandre’s description, and it would be such a wonderful prank to play on her when he thought about it. His father would be furious though, and the frock incident was bad enough for one lifetime to be honest about it. Could he really pass up this chance though? Definitely not was the only answer he could imagine.

“I think it might have been a certain lady, she was all over me earlier you see, very touchy-feely if you know what I mean. The girl was…”

“Don’t listen to that blow-hard Geoffrey, he’s just yankin’ your chain and tryin’ to cause trouble. I’ve known the little bastard long enough to tell when he’s blowin’ smoke up yer arse!”

If the voice calling out from behind him wasn’t so familiar Luther might have been offended by the remark, but the man speaking was one of the guards who wanted to strangle him half the time. He was a rather unfriendly man who went by the name Daniel, a rather unfortunate and dull name if Luther was any kind of expert on the subject. The lanky royal turned around flamboyantly and raised his arms as if moving to embrace the man with a rather sour look planted on his face currently, he decided it was best not to though, he looked somewhat serious and grumpy at the moment.

“But Daniel, it was merely a small jest you see, surely there’s no harm done with an innocent little joke is there?” He titled his head to the right slightly and made a somewhat pouty look to show his good intent, but it failed to register any kind of response.

“Don’t be givin’ me any of that nonsense now. It’s best if you just be movin’ along and takin’ that royal arse of your’n back up that elevator and stay outta our way down here. Don’t make me report this to General von Krieger now or there might be an incident very similar to the one that gave you that pretty scar on that face of your’n.”

Luther gave a sigh of exasperation, no matter what he said or did would convince this one otherwise, so the young royal shrugged his shoulders and bowed half-heartedly to the two guards. “If you so insist my good man then I will see myself off and be on my way.” With that Luther took off towards the rickety, old, and obnoxiously loud elevator with his family’s booth as the intended destination. The thought of stopping by Liandre teased his mind, if only just to both the King one last time, but the elimination round would be starting soon and he didn’t want to press his luck any further than he already had today.

Luther

Luther thought about how he despised boredom with a fiery-passion so fierce it could match the sun’s heat whilst waiting for the elimination round to start. He could not ponder for long though, hanging upside-down from one of the rails guarding the hallways overlooking the stadium tended to force the blood to rush into one’s head. Such a position did seem to draw undue attention, but at the same time it could reap brilliant ideas as well. He had not gambled in a long time, well long being a relative term anyways but who really kept track, and an exhilarating bet was a sure-fire way to peak his excitement. Of course the best bets always had the highest stakes and smallest reward…well in his own opinion anyways, there were some who liked to argue on that point but they obviously had not experienced the same level of ecstasy he had whilst gambling.

With a fresh smile splattered across his face the young Royal swung his arms upwards to help launch his torso up and grab onto the railing. Luckily everything in this particular area was lacking any steel-reinforcement, the renovations had not made it this far as of yet, or that particular escapade would have proven doubly-boring and required an even more outrageous bet on his part. He stretched out languorously like a cat, trying to give his body time to readjust to its new position so as to avoid and blood-rushes or possible fainting, for a few moments before proceeding to strap on his sword-belt he had laid down nearby. A whistle, or whatever semblance of a whistle he could ever manage to fashion, burst forth from between puckered lips as the nobleman set forth once again for the King’s booth.

First things first though, and unfortunately that meant checking in with his parents. He couldn’t understand why his father felt so, but the man always insisted upon sending out a battalion to search for him if he disappeared for too long a period of time, probably afraid that Luther might lead a rebellion of joy and spontaneity, that and he wanted to consult his father very quickly, just a mere question to pose that would affect the exact parameters of his bet, Luther hated asking the man for advice in matters such as this, but he wanted to make sure his bets would be taken in the first place. The lanky Royal sauntered into their booth easily, sliding quickly into the chair to the left of his father.

“You needn’t worry dear Father, I’ve been behaving myself as any good lad should, but before I go, I wanted to ask you a quick question.”

His father feigned indifference to his voice until hearing his son speak about a question. This prompted the old man to actually turn his head and look at Luther with a somewhat fixed-gaze, showing Luther that he indeed was curious and open to a discussion, at least a serious one. “Speak up now Luther we haven’t much time before the next round begins.”

“How many of the other contestants do you think the King’s Flawed can take down this year?”

“Making a wager are you?” The tone in his voice marked a lack of surprise, he did not care when his son gambled, and at least it was a somewhat normal activity of which he could approve. “Knowing the King’s history with choosing Flawed and from what I have seen so far today?” He paused here and stroked his beard thoughtfully for a few moments. “At the least three, maybe four. The competition seems rather stiff this year, but I bet the King’s Flawed will pull through, as always.”

“Hmm, I would have to agree with you there. That ‘Metal-Champion’ and the girl with the beads seem to be the strongest of the other contestants. If it wasn’t for the King’s unbelievable luck in these matters I would dare say my choice would fall between those two.”

“The metal-girl seems a bit too brash and untrained, but she does seem to have an overwhelming amount of experience for someone her age. If she can hold her temper, which doesn’t seem quite likely, I think you may have a point. My money would say she gets distracted and taken down when she starts to tire out though. As for the bead-wearing girl… she may have extravagant moves, but all a smart fighter needs to do is wear her down and wait for the right moment.”

“You think so? I’m of the opinion the Metal-Champion is more prepared than that, I don’t know why but I have this sense that her instincts are somewhat above-par when compared to the others. I would agree with you about the one with the beads, but she seems a little too smart to let herself be taken down in such a fashion.”

“I might agree with you, but several of these contestants are trained and experienced in the arena. When too many unknowns are thrown into the grinder all you can really trust is training and experience, and you should know that as well as I do Luther.”

“Oh well, I guess I’ll just keep on dreaming. I must bid you farewell though Father, Mother. I must make haste to make my bets before the next round starts!”

Before they could even begin to respond Luther had already skyrocketed up and out of their booth, his feet hurriedly carrying him towards the King’s Booth. This time he was able to enter much more easily for some odd reason, the guards just kind of let him walk on by without even so much as a, “Halt, heathen!” It was rather strange, but Luther was a person who loved strange more than most.

This time he shortened the formalities to a mere half-bow and a rather gracious, “M’liege,” before approaching the King and kneeling to the man’s right. He kept his tone level and his gaze respectful, a somewhat surprising and uncommon feat of normalcy most would never expect to see from him, as he directed his inquiry upon the King. “King Resdreillhm, sorry to disturb you so close to the commencement of the elimination round, I was wondering if you would care to make a wager with me?” The young royal was displaying seriousness rather uncharacteristic of his known demeanor, he wanted the King to take this bet seriously, even though it was a win-win situation for him, and hoped this show of level-headedness would catch his attention.

The king had just sat down in his seat after his announcement, almost immediately accosted by the presence of Luther. This young fool. This noble would forever be a thorn in the side of nobles, but that much was to be expected. A disgrace to his father, a disgrace to his heritage. Yet, there was a tinge in his voice of seriousness that forced the man to actually bother to take out his time to regard the young royal.

"Speak then," He ordered curtly. While his mood was much lightened by the upcoming matches and the new batch of flawed, Luther was one to always dampen the mood significantly. And if it were not for the status of his father, the king would've had the other killed long ago for his insolence. As it stood, he would stay his blade. For now.~

“I would like to wager that your champion cannot defeat even three of the other competitors. If you win I will sequester myself from Royal Society until you see fit to let me return amongst the Royals. I want nothing in return if I win. You may know that I prefer dangerous bets that would do me no good if I win.”

It was as if Luther had read his mind, for his proposal was so in-line with his thought pattern. King Resdreillhm tilted his gaze back towards the arena, more so as to glance over at his little fallen girl. She was still rigid in her seat with fear but she had not yet voiced any objections, clearly this was not a bet he was going to lose. The man smirked, not turning back to Luther as he spoke to him smoothly. "Always the fool, Luther, making bets when you know the odds are stacked against you. However, I am not an unreasonable man, I will humor you..." He said his last words rather softly, veiling the threat in his words casually. He had no intentions of losing the bet for his champion never lost. This was a pre-determined battle. He chortled to himself, what a buffoon.

A slight grin spread upon the young Royal’s face as the King acquiesced, it seemed like the day’s thrill might not be lost yet. “Please know that I am most gracious for your acceptance m’liege. I wish I could take your advice, but I am but one of those people who does not find pleasure in taking certain bets, we are a rather strange and small portion of society to be sure.” Luther then stood up, bowing respectfully, and made his way over to the beautiful Liandre once again. He bowed respectfully, but refrained from any other overly-flamboyant gestures as before. “I would care to make a wager with you as well Liandre. Please know that it is a win-win situation for you as well.”

Liandre jumped, surprised that she was being approached. She had been fiddling with the mirror she kept in the folds of her vest, fumbling with it now as she hurried to stow it back inside before anyone saw. If Luther had noticed, he made no motions to indicate it and she breathed out, trying to force a smile on her lips. She trembled in her effort, truthfully, she had not been in the mood for smiling recently. She was far too worried about the events that were soon to take place and putting on this whole facade around the king was rather wearing on her... Still, she made herself try and after a bit of doing, her lips finally upturned in a sweet smile with only the faintest edge of hesitation.

"You seem to be in a strange mood... but I-I suppose it would be alright to indulge." Her nervousness got the best of her. She was so unused to all this social contact! Though Luther had been rather harmless earlier so perhaps he wouldn't do anything out of bounds this time...

“I would like to wager that your champion does not make it to be one of the last three competitors in the arena. If I win, I would like to the opportunity to take you out for a day, if you win then you shall never hear from me again.”

She blinked slowly, trying to take in what he had just said. Her stomach had dropped, her eyes widened in the process. Take her... out? What interest did he have in spending time with her? Was there a catch...? No, he had just spent time with her--had she really been that interesting he wanted to speak with her more? They hadn't really said that much though... She shook her head, realizing that she had left him hanging awkwardly and tried to think of a proper response.

"U-Um, well, that is, you see, I..." She fumbled with her words, unsure of how to approach this situation with care. She had never been good at this sort of thing! It was all so unfamiliar... And with the current state of affairs, it seemed she would automatically be slated to lose! Of course Eiurin would not be one of the last three because by that point, there wouldn't be any of them left in the first place... At least not here, in Isallia... Wait, did he know about that? No, there was no way he could've... She tried to keep her face straight and at last murmured out her decision.

"I... I suppose..." Her small voice came out, the girl unable to decline his offer. She had been raised to always be polite and her instincts took over. And Luther really wasn't all that bad, she just couldn't figure out why he wanted to pass time with her. Oh well, part of the mystery of the young noble, she supposed.

Luther did not let the smile beaming inside the depths of his soul display more on his face than a mere smirk and twinkle in his eye. This would certainly be a most exhilarating of elimination rounds, and he could not wait to see the outcome of this potentially momentous day. There was a conundrum though, what if he lost his bet to the King and won against Liandre? He certainly could not be able to take her out for a day if that should happen... if he had been a more traditional fellow he might have been a bit more cautious and worried than at the moment. What would be the fun of that? He proceeded to sit down in the next available seat, about three down from the Princess and many from the King, but his enthusiasm for the next round did naught but strengthen.

Luther

Luther’s nonchalant demeanor belied his true surprise at the turn of events this Battle Royale had taken so far. He was currently lounging rather inappropriately in a chair next to the Princess he was trying to woo, with his head and left arm dangling over the left-hand side next to Liandre whilst his right hand clasped his should to create a makeshift cushion. His right leg, currently hooked over the arm-rest on the right side, was swinging back and forth lightly, the heel of his boot making a slight thud sound whenever it connected with the side of the chair. His eyes though, if anyone were to look at them whilst observing the fight they would find those normally placid-orbs now engaged and flush with calculation.

To be truthful he could never grasp why they insisted upon having these death matches every year, well of course he understood the reasoning behind it, at least the bit everyone knew about, obviously there must be ulterior motives besides choosing the leading class and keeping the Flawed in check, he just could never come to see the logic behind it. The pragmatist and utilitarian hidden in his mind knew the flawed were much more useful alive than dead, of course that’s why they made these death matches, letting them live would make things much too tricky to keep their society in order. Naturally this forced Luther to reconsider his philosophical views at times, but this was a rather tricky subject to be honest about it. No matter how he tussled with it there just didn’t seem anyway for everyone to win from this point, either force the current ruling classes to accept their physical inferiority and relinquish their power willfully, not a popular concept, or continue on with this farce and lead to some eventual civil-strife.

The sound of the Princess Liandre sitting up next to him and having King Resdrollheim call out to her brought the young Royal from his drift into the contemplation of societal philosophy, he assumed there would always be time to think about such things later. The poor dear did seemed rather pale, at least more so than she had been earlier in the day, and she soon rushed out of the King’s Booth. If his Father had been a different man he might have been able to do the same during his first Royal, but he was a general’s son, and there were some things even he could not avoid. Despite his disdain for the needless loss of life Luther had grown rather accustomed to the Royale and did enjoy watching the battles, especially the ones such as now where it turned into a free-for-all between the best of the contestants. That was probably the biggest reason he took on such a care-free demeanor during the Royale, he wanted to stifle the piece of himself most similar to his Father.

This seemed like the perfect opportunity to steal a little more free time with the delicious little Liandre, but the King seemed highly displeased with her departure and the current turn of events in the Royale, things were progressing much more swiftly than usual…strange how the King’s Flawed seemed not to be anywhere in sight. Regardless though, with the bet he had with the King at the moment Luther could not risk leaving the booth until after this round finished, if he denied the King the possibility of having a chance to gloat would be unconscionable. It was such a shame… he was certain Liandre was about to fall madly in love with him but he would just have to wait a little bit longer though, that is if his bet didn’t backfire on him.

The Royale raging in front of the crowd brought Luther’s thoughts to Nobunaga, the curiously similar figure with whom he conversed in his dreams from time to time. He wondered what the man would think about such fights as these, how he might fare in them, and even if he would participate. Luther felt he knew the survivor fairly well, and the man did have a penchant for fighting from what he could gleam, but he had very reserved opinions when it came to fighting, he couldn’t picture Nobunaga fighting if it wasn’t of the utmost necessity to his survival, but then again they forced the Flawed into these situations so that might not be a problem. As for how he would fare would be entirely up to the opponents he was paired with, he could definitely seeing the reptilian-like individual making it to this round, but much farther than that would be up to luck and fate, which he seemed to have amble amounts of good and bad for either one, respectively.

It was all the same though, he highly doubted such a situation would ever arise, and he doubted they would ever meet outside of their dreams. Strange to think though, but they had never spoken about the Royales and he could not think of a reason why, they’ve had ample time to discuss many things, but he had never broached the topic as of yet, he might consider doing so their next time out, or in depending upon how you looked at it, so as to gleam a bit more into Nobunaga’s mind. When Luther looked again at the King he seemed extremely perturbed, and grabbed furiously at one of his attendants and whispered something to the man hurriedly. Whatever it was it seemed the attendant was somewhat shocked and disturbed by what the King had told him while he rushed from the booth quickly. The King must be planning something for this round…hopefully it didn’t ruin his chance to take Liandre out on that date.

---

The sketch had been coming along very nicely thus far, probably due in part to the seclusion of this particular city, and Nobunaga was quite pleased with how quickly his new map was progressing, another priceless treasure to add to his collection. He had been able to make his place amongst the ruins for several months now, growing very familiar with the surrounding area and drafting several rough pictures of the landscape since then. Unfortunately his current stock of colored ink was beginning to run dry very quickly, and it would probably only allow the Flawed to continue with his favored hobby for just a few more strokes. It was unlikely that he would be able to call this home forever; from what he had noted a few days ago another group had probably made their way in, and leaving him uncertain for the moment as to if they had left. This would probably be another problem which he would have to deal sooner or later.

It was always hard to tell when the switch occurred here for some reason, the change from waking to . . . what seemed to be dreaming was extremely fluid, maybe it was just him growing accustomed to the occasion over time. All he could be sure of the it happening this time was the sound of a boot thumping up against the wall to his right, and that aggravating laugh belonging to that fool Luther who could not for the life of him keep quiet for any period of time. Nobunaga had not even noticed his drawing implements vanishing from his hands the change was so subtle now, but he tried his best to ignore the ignorant fool seated not five-feet from him, more than likely with that stupid grin plastered across his face.

“Why Nobunaga, my dearly beloved twin, what chances our meeting on this oh so momentous of days?”

The fool, Luther, could never resist speaking more than he needed at any time, with an exasperated sigh Nobunaga gave in yet again to appeasing his doppelgänger, something which was becoming much to frequent in his opinion. “Bad luck.”

Luther tilted his legs forwards from his currently upside-down position, rolling his body around until being able to launch himself upright to standing, twisting around quickly, and leaping to seat himself next to the Flawed seated nearby. “How could you imply that ill-fortunes have brought us together on this fine day? I have met my future bride on this day! The one and only Liandre Florenia Ignivicarian VI, a rare gem of a beauty indeed who is mightily smitten with me, and after only just the slightest of conversation to be had as well.”

“She must have a lot of some kind of luck to run into you.”

“Oh Nobunaga, you should have met her friend earlier, another person such as yourself, such a feisty girl, and a hot little number to boot! I wish I could show her to you Nobunaga, she’d be the perfect match for you!”

What happened next was extremely unexpected for the both of them, but it seemed Luther had a penchant for keeping his calm with strange situations more so than Nobunaga. As the Royal had started his mentioning of Eiurin to Nobunaga the scenery around them changed to that of the holding cells beneath the stadium, with the form of Eiurin standing within a cell. For the most part she was the spitting image of the Liandre’s Flawed-Champion, but she was much more curvaceous than her actual counterpart, especially in the bosom. In all honesty if she were to appear such as this there would be no way to contain her breasts in the midst of battle. Luther hopped up gleefully at the sudden variation in their current surroundings.

“This is exactly the one I was telling you about Nobunaga, this girl right here, isn’t she something? Oh how I wish I could introduce the two of you and let the sparks of romance ignite!”

Nobunaga was still speechless with whatever had just happened, first the changes become much more discreet and now the scenery was changing and images materializing from thin air. This was too much to handle, he could only imagine what atrocities Luther could conjure up with this little ability, or what he else he might try his hand at attempting. He finally took notice of the figure to which Luther was referring, but even though he considered her fairly attractive her . . . chest was ludicrous, how could anyone live with such monstrosities weighing them down? Before either of them had a chance to say any more though, something happened. It was almost as if Nobunaga could hear the faint sounds of a crowd roaring in the distance, and then a thunderous crash as if a building had just collapsed resounded throughout the area. When the Flawed look up he was back upon his perch, his writing implements still in hand and, luckily, undamaged by the jolt he was just given. For some reason he had a bad feeling about things to come, especially if the figures he glimpsed sprinting through the ruins across the way were to be any indication of the future.

---

Luther had been stolen way from his spectacular visit with his doppelgänger Nobunaga rather quickly, leaving the Royal extremely displeasured with having his new discoveries torn from his grasp before he could begin the necessary amount of experimentation needed to exploit them properly. He had not yet opened his eyes to confront whom-so-ever or what-so-ever decided it was best to disturb his regal slumber, utilized in this instance for the passage of time until the Battle Royale passed into its final stages, but something already seemed rather amiss with the atmosphere surrounding him. The world seemed to be shaking down to its very core as the screaming of thousands resonated throughout the cavernous hallways of the stadium and fashioned a terrifying symphony of pain and despair. Such an odd turn of events this year, usually the screaming comes from the Coliseum’s core, not its periphery.

The somewhat eclectic and always eccentric Luther Gottfried von Krieger finally deigned enough excitement was in the process of maturing to warrant his further inquiry into the matters at hand, only to confront a situation which was nearly enough to peculiar to render him dumbstruck, nearly that is to say. One would have to admit that his upside-down frame-of-reference, a point-of-view with which he was wont for which to add amusement to any situation, aided to the confusion of the scenario currently placed before his still sleep-muddled eyes. It appeared as if the Coliseum’s barrier had been rendered null and void for the time being, at such an inopportune time as when the Royale was still taking place, leaving the monument of death and deception exposed to the exploitation of one monstrously mammoth, or so some might consider, Flawed.

Now that he was much more familiar with the current state of affairs his mind began working busily as usual. Could you imagine how much trouble one, maybe a few by the looks of things, could cause in so little time as I had been napping? Of course not, an event such like this could not be orchestrated nor operated by the fly of one’s seat, or at least he hoped such was the case or his reputation for mischief might be at stake, but must have taken quite some time to develop into maturity. Luther slithered and slid through the horde of spectators, fleeing from the portion of the stadium which had been rent asunder by the fearsome beast, but he was always one to flow against the current, and in this instance closer to the danger at hand. Always leave it to the guards and soldiers to flee from the scene when the peril has finally arrived and warranted their actual necessity. Of course the irony of his current garb was not lost upon Luther as this thought crossed his mind, but he never considered himself much of a soldier to be fair.

As Luther continued on towards where the devastation was the worst, being the type who preferred standing in the eye of the storm than the perimeter, a horrid thought struck the young Royal’s mind, one that nearly brought him to halt mid-step. Liandre! What if the love of his life, though they had just grown acquainted this special day, the day of her first visit to the Games, had come to some injury? The thought of her coming to harm sent a chill of terror coursing down his spine, all the while clouds of dust and mounds of debris began clogging his path. Was that smoke billowing thick in the air, had a fire started this quickly? He would needs be check on his intended bride-to-be’s condition at a later occasion, tending to their wager at her bedside if necessitated, as the moaning and groaning of the trapped, injured, and stunned began growing ever louder with each step. Luther felt there was no such thing as an innocent in this world, but someone had to help the spectators left behind by their terror-stricken comrades, and if things went south with the King this benevolent act would surely strengthen his position in the public’s watchful eye.

Luther was making his way through the debris as quickly as was possible due to the circumstances, shouting for assistance wherever it could be found and stopping to assist those whom he could, but this situation was much too peculiar to be without consequence. What was the intent of this calamity? Obviously chaos was a goal of the perpetrators, if them dropping the protective barrier shielding the spectators from the Flawed was to be of any significance. By now his sword-hand remained ever-vigilant and clasping his weapon when other duties did not require its utilization as he continued farther down his current path, surely the Flawed still in the Pit would attempt some form of escape . . . The Flawed . . . Luther quickly shut the thought to the back of his mind, there were circumstances of import which necessitated the majority of his faculties at the moment, his love to unravel plots and pursue intrigue must needs be wait until the present crises had been averted, the catastrophe facing the crowd and his wagers with both the King and the beautiful Liandre.

Luther was hurriedly digging through a pile of rubble whilst the Coliseum was trembling as the King’s twisted Champion tore into the monument of death with a veracity matched only by that of a feral beast cornered by its hunter, his hands caked with a mud mixed from shattered rock, sweat, and blood that was both his own and that of others’. No matter how fervently he dug the pile never seemed to end as he worked to reveal the body which belonged to a lone forearm clutching at the empty air for some way to break free from its prison, but before he could even bring the arm’s shoulder to light another tremor shook the stadium as the rampaging beast tore another chunk from its side. When the dust cleared Luther could still see the lonely forearm, now strangely clutching his cloak as it was freed not only from the rubble, but from its owner as well.

A wave of anger and frustration surged through Luther’s usually unruffled and jovial persona, as if it wasn’t bad enough that they had hundreds of Flawed murder each other every year the King had to go and cause this ruckus. Maybe it was not the King’s fault the shields were down, yet that monstrosity wreaking havoc upon everything with indiscretion was most definitely that power-hungry fool’s fault, but there was too little time to focus upon wrath at the moment. There were still hundreds, if not thousands, still in need of help, the situation did not look to be quieting down anytime soon, and by the sounds of things his assumptions were correct earlier. A chorus of fighting rang out from all around and Flawed from the Royale were quickly attempting to flee the battlefield, but whether for revenge or some other reason would only be known after they climbed past the rubble.

With the flick of a wrist the bruised and battered noble quickly drew his sabre as his adrenaline-fueled figure brought him to one of the numerous origins of conflict, finding several of the guards occupied with a small group of Flawed, and faring very poorly by the looks of things. No matter how well trained any of their soldiers may be the Flawed usually had the upper-hand, and it would still be some time before the Steambots could properly respond to all skirmishes taking place, but their priority would probably be the hulking beast tearing the stadium apart at the moment. Not that any of it really mattered at the moment, the reins of the situation would be brought securely into the military’s hand relatively soon and this mayhem would stop, all they had to do was hopefully stay alive until that happened.

Before he could assist any of his fellow countrymen though, a certain sight gave him pause, was that twice in one day? He could see Liandre’s Flawed, the scrumptious little-tart he wished could meet Nobunaga named Eiurin, working her way through the mayhem towards where the elevators were located, and it appeared as if a small group of Flawed was not far behind her either. A lightning bolt of recognition shot through the back of Luther’s mind, igniting the spark which had been smoldering there since earlier as he recalled some of the peculiar circumstances of the day. With a look of fierce determination on the noble’s face, enhanced by the ever-looming scar given to him by his father, Luther rushed as quickly as he could to the elevators, his station merited access to them but his father, prudent as always, refused to allow his son the privilege of its use on these days. This was most definitely a sour turn of events, and he was fearful of what the King would think about both his time spent with Liandre earlier today and his current absence from his Majesty’s presence at such an inopportune moment once the truth of the situation came to light, as it always seemed to do. Things were not all that horrendous though, if things were as they seemed, from his rather unique perspective at the least, then his beautiful lady Liandre was capable of planning-out extremely intricate plans, but hopefully his love had not bitten off more than she could chew, it would be such a tragic shame if he had to give his life to protect her from harm before even receiving a kiss from her sweet lips.

The tremendous force of another body colliding with his own soon side-tracked the noble from his intended destination as the individual flew into him from the side, sending the both of them toppling head-over-heels across the rough stone-floors of the hallway. After losing track of his sword Luther instinctively went to trying and grapple with his unknown enemy, forcing his fingers into the Flawed’s eyes before feeling a white-hot stabbing pain digging into his side. His hands quickly sought out anything nearby and found a decent sized rock within reach and bringing it swiftly up against the head of whomever or whatever he was fighting with at the moment. Before long the body soon grew limp, but that same searing pain was throbbing in Luther’s side, when he went to check the area he noticed a set of claws embedded deeply into his flesh, at least down to their second-knuckle. Luther set about tenderly removing the claws from his side, clamping his left-hand on the wound, and grasping his re-discovered sword in his right.

When he found the time to regain his bearings, doing his best to put the thought of searing pain and bleeding to death to the back of his mind, he looked back towards the elevator, or where the elevator should be. It was hard to tell if the group of Flawed was there or not with all the smoke and dust filling the air, his eyes squinting forcefully to try and make the scene out better, but to no avail. “Heh, might as well let them be off, I have other things which merit my attention, such as the Flawed who are obviously trying to kill the citizens and guards. I hope Liandre won’t be too disgusted by my appearance to merit our date after everything settles down.” His words trailed off with a weary-chuckle, filled more with the lingering dread of what was to never be than irony at his current predicament.