The concrete spires of Rome tower over Smith and Nadeden as they slip into the Spaceport’s crowd unnoticed.

  “Look up,” Nadeden tells Smith, who hesitates to do so in the hurried mass of people all marching toward the city.

  “No one will notice.” She nudges them.

  Smith gazes to the sky along with the anxious tourists to behold the monolithic bastion that is the Division Plaza. The mountainous structure seems to be made of nothing but concrete and glass. Windows are on every side of it, and there’s a wide balcony atop the roof that anyone could peer down from at any time.

  Smith would like to stare in awe and wonder forever. But their thoughts instead shift to how someone could possibly have any privacy in a place like that.

  Then it dawns on them.

  “So that’s-”

  “It is,” Nadeden mutters.

  “That’s where we’ll find him.”

  Unbeknownst to the pair, Gelmidas isn’t in the Division Plaza.

  He’s already in the coliseum with Adamus. “Take off the sunglasses.”

  “It’s bright out.” Gelmidas rips the glasses off Adamus’s face, exposing what he had wished to keep hidden.

  “You’ve been drinking.” Gelmidas scolds him, folding his arms as Adamus straightens the flower on his vibrant blue tuxedo.

  “Correction, Father. I had been drinking.”

  Gelmidas has little patience for his son’s antics today, but he is firmly aware of the reason for this behavior. “Was it Davon’s liquor cabinet you drank from?”

  Adamus shrugs, taking the sunglasses back from his Father. “It was.”

  Gelmidas accepts the admission of guilt and lets Adamus keep the tinted frames over his red eyes for the time being. He does have to be sure of one thing, though. “I do hope you’ll act appropriately tonight.”

  Adamus puts the finishing touches on his clothing, pinning jeweled cufflinks onto his sleeves that some girl he can’t recall the name of once gifted him.

  “Appropriately?” Adamus twists a curl of his hair. The beast stirs within his arms as he runs his fingers through his scalp.

  “Relax, Father, I’m only getting married to the daughter of our greatest enemy.”

  Gelmidas’s true greatest enemy now hides her face from the passing crowd with Smith at her side.

  “What do you see?” Nadeden asks under her breath.

  Smith scans the area. It’s nearly impossible to make out anything in the sea of people. If that Republic planet was considered heavily populated, then Rome is extremely populated, especially with humans. Although Smith does spot the occasional green head of a Squideel, along with the rare floating Lungoza.

  “Lotta people,” Smith states, not knowing any other way to answer Nadeden.

  “I doubt anyone here can see you.” They add, attempting to tack on some mild reassurance, which humors Nadeden. “You never know, Smith. There could be eyes everywhere.”

  Smith examines their surroundings once more, wondering if they had missed anything. They spy a wall of men in blue uniforms waiting at a gate atop a long flight of stairs. Several other men march out, dressed in white and red, surrounding a single, caped woman.

  Smith instantly recognizes her.

  Her statue overlooked the pyre that the Republic officers made with the bodies of those who protested what will happen tonight.

  The street cheers at her arrival. Nadeden and Smith gaze at each other as the applause erupts around them. Both make the quick decision to step away into the shadows.

  “The union,” Nadeden whispers, frantically searching for an empty alleyway.

  “I don’t know how I could have forgotten,” Smith says back, in a voice nowhere near as low as Nadeden’s.

  “I forgot too,” Nadeden states, finally finding a vacant street corner beneath a hulking skyscraper.

  “If it’s happening today, that complicates things, and that also means that we have to act quickly…” Her mind wanders off with her feet, which circle the small space she’s deemed safe.

  Smith’s scarred hand nervously tightens on the jacket bundled under their arm. The idea follows the action. Smith slides on the uniform, buttoning it over their thin chest.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “What?” Nadeden turns to Smith, holding back the urge to laugh at the impromptu disguise. “Heh, I knew that it would help us, but gods, you do not make a convincing soldi-” She suddenly reaches into her satchel, pulling out the sheets of paper the pair once used for target practice.

  “You aren’t a soldier.”

  Smith takes the paper.

  Nadeden smirks.

  “You’re a reporter.”

  A pair of pale figures observe the Scorched Archer and this new Division reporter from the tower opposite the street corner.

  A little girl takes a sip of water that she quickly spits out to the crowd below. “I still haven’t gotten used to that.”

  “We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  The girl glares at the pale man. “It was an involuntary response, my Smith. I couldn’t help myself. Now, have you signaled Cassandra, or are you too busy watching our sibling?”

  The man twists away from the balcony, unnaturally contorting towards the girl. He forces his eyes to blink as he speaks, “I don’t understand why we can’t approach them.”

  The girl tosses her bottle of water over the railing, “That Smith is with a dangerous woman, one that the whole planet is going to be after once she’s made her presence known. It would be unwise to make contact with them until we’ve accomplished our goal.”

  The bottle falls and spills over the head of a Republic guard next to Vanessa Soryu.

  The girl laughs as the president curses the man. “Ha! These humans are so ignorant!”

  The planet’s sun sets as Cassandra stands by the window, waiting to receive the signal from her newfound allies.

  She’s forced to scurry away as the door opens, although her gown makes that difficult.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  Cassandra halts her panic at the weary voice. “Dad?”

  She hurries toward her Father. “Where have you been?”

  Tendo shuts the door behind him, swiftly sitting in the closest chair. His hands are trembling. “Vanessa is on her way.”

  Cassandra kneels before Tendo, folding her gown as she maneuvers her way onto the floor. She grips his hands. “Everything is going to be alright, you heard what Adamus said. He and Gelmidas have-”

  “Have what?” Vanessa asks from the door she quietly opened.

  Cassandra rises, her face turns as white as the cape her Mother wears.

  “No, please do go on, dear. I would absolutely love to hear about your little scheme.” Her heeled boots click against the marble floor as she confronts Cassandra.

  “I wonder… Have you warmed up to the Atheneums? Or is this a situation of lesser evils? Because I assure you, dear Cassandra.” The black tassel of Vanessa’s beret intertwines with her hair. “I am the lesser evil.”

  The signal from Cassandra’s allies shines in through the window.

  It goes unanswered.

  “So the coliseum is where this wedding is happening?”

  “Yes…” The tourist hesitates, scrutinizing the reporter's bald head and sickly features. She feels the need to ask, “Shouldn’t you know this?”

  A cloaked arm launches around the reporter, dragging them off, much to the tourist’s dismay, but most importantly, her confusion.

  She’ll certainly have quite the story to tell her friends back home.

  “Guess we were wrong. Coliseum?” Nadeden asks Smith, freeing her hand from their side as they take off the jacket.

  “Coliseum.” Smith nods, already marching forward into the packed street and toward the rounded mass of bricks coated in flags and banners.

  The Division plaza waits on the other side, overlooking Adamus’s mural. Its existence remains unknown to both Smith and Nadeden as they push onward.

  Adamus yawns as he struts through the winding halls of the coliseum with his Father.

  “I was hoping to eat before sunset. Has the food been prepared?”

  Gelmidas’s crown tilts as he squints at Adamus. “You didn’t read the itinerary, did you?”

  A shout comes from Cassandra’s room.

  The door bursts open in front of the two dumbstruck men. Vanessa steps out, flustered. She clears her throat. “Gentlemen.”

  “Madam president.” Gelmidas makes the courtesy, and Adamus bows.

  “Is everything alright?” He inquires, rising to meet Tendo and Cassandra, who unsteadily walk out.

  General Loeb sneaks up on the Atheneums from behind, blade in hand.

  Adamus eyes Cassandra. If there is indeed a threat, she does little to indicate so.

  “You wanna do this now?” Adamus snarls, brash but unsure of the situation. He reaches for his bracers, the beast is anxious to finally unleash itself.

  Gelmidas holds him back. “What is this, Vanessa?”

  The president of the Republic smiles, her family at her side. “It’s nothing, Emperor.”

  She flees into the wide hall, Loeb and Tendo follow her. Cassandra reluctantly hangs back until gathering the courage to slap Adamus across the face.

  “What was that for?”

  Cassandra's cheeks blush with an embarrassed rage.

  “Vanessa knows everything.” She quickly spits the warning out in a whisper and runs to join her Mother.

  Gelmidas removes his glasses, eyes wide.

  Adamus’s jaw drops with his hand still on the bruise Cassandra gave him. “You don’t think she’s going to-” Gelmidas takes off back into the hall he came from before he can answer any questions.

  Adamus’s head turns in the direction his Father ran off in, then in the direction Cassandra took. He takes a moment to consider who he should pursue before his stomach grumbles.

  “Fuck this.”

  He drops his hands into his pockets.

  “I think better on a full stomach anyway.”

  Security is tight around the coliseum.

  Nadeden figured that it would be, but the sheer amount of guards posted at the entrances is a number that nearly eclipses the total of those attending the wedding.

  She pulls her hood tighter over her head, masking the burnt side of her face. “We’ll have to find another way inside.”

  Nadeden’s statement only gives Smith more questions. “Is there one? You have been here before, right?”

  Nadeden shakes her head. “Barely. The Warbound occasionally performed there, but I never attended. I spent most of my time with Ge-” She stops herself. Saying Gelmidas’s name so casually in such a packed setting like this can’t end well.

  “It looks like the guards are inspecting everyone who enters,” Smith states, stepping out of the line to glimpse ahead for only a second.

  Nadeden hides her satchel under her cloak, searching the crowd for any cracks she and Smith can escape into. She doesn’t find any.

  Smith clutches the blue and gold jacket once more. They quickly put it on, crying out. “Make way! Prisoner here! Make way!”

  They grab Nadeden. She pushes her head down, smiling at Smith’s ingenuity. Together, they break through the swarm of bodies.

  “MAKE WAY!” Smith shouts for the last time, noticing that a guard is fast approaching the scene of commotion.

  Nadeden raises her head. She pulls Smith forward into a clearing between the known entrances where a muddy drainage system hangs below them.

  Smith and Nadeden share a smirk.

  Luck is on their side.

  The guard cracks into the clearing with a dagger at the ready.

  Nadeden leaps down into the filth, her cloak billowing after her.

  She waits for Smith.

  Her heart drops as she watches the guard place his hands on them.

  “I’ll find you,” Smith silently mouths to their friend before being ripped out of her sight.

  Nadeden begins to crawl back up to the clearing.

  She drops back down once she hears the faint sound of boots in the distance.

  She needs to go back. She has to help Smith.

  She’s come all this way. She can’t leave them behind.

  Yet if she were to go back up, she’d be putting herself at risk and would no doubt make things even worse for Smith. Besides, she has a way in now. A few more steps and she’ll be inside the coliseum. Then her arrow will be at Gelmida’s throat.

  They’ll find me, Nadeden tells herself as she kneels down in the sewage and crawls into the darkness.

  They’ll find me. Please Smith. Find me.

  Smith enters the coliseum with the Division guard shoving them forward.

  He tears the jacket from them once they’re inside. “Impersonating an officer is a federal offense. Where’d you get this uniform!”

  Smith can’t speak. They have to get back to Nadeden. They have to see this through.

  Yet maybe if they play their cards right, they might be able to make their way deeper into the coliseum perfectly undetected.

  “Where’d you get it!” The guard shouts again before finally examining the jacket himself. His gruff face widens at the inscription written inside the collar.

  “You’re coming with me.” He reaches into his belt, pulling out a set of wired plastic handcuffs. Smith’s hands are quickly and tightly bound before they are hauled deeper into the coliseum.

  Smith isn’t sure what they did, but it seems to have worked.

  The guard escorts them up the spiraling stairs and through the winding hallways.

  Smith carefully notes their surroundings but fails to spot anywhere they can escape to.

  This guard has them trapped.

  Smith remains at the guard's mercy until suddenly being stopped.

  “My lord, where are you going? I was looking for the Emperor. Shouldn’t you be preparing yourself for the wedding?”

  Smith turns their head to look at the handsomely dressed young man with brown hair and dim glasses.

  “Don’t I already look prepared?” The young man laughs. Something about that laughter sounds oddly familiar to Smith.

  “I was hungry, Dimtri. Who have you got here? Some poor fellow hoping to cut the line?” The dark lenses eye Smith with a careless glance of contempt.

  “I fear it’s not that simple, my lord.” Dimtri sighs, handing Adamus Davon’s jacket.

  Adamus grasps the uniform his mentor once wore.

  His fingers run through the fabric as his face darkens. “I see.”

  He tightens a fist around the collar's inscription, ingrained with Davon’s name.

  “Dimtri,” Adamus orders the guard in a harsh voice. The beast is now pounding inside his skin, begging to be let out.

  “Give me the prisoner.” Dimtri removes Smith’s handcuffs and tosses them over to Adamus.

  He leaves the boy to his vengeance, walking back to guard the entrance with a grim sense of pride at his actions.

  Adamus pins Smith to the wall, removing his sunglasses.

  “You don’t look like an Elf,” Adamus states, digging his fingers into Smith’s frail skin.

  His red eyes meet Smith’s dark ones.

  “I’m only going to ask this once, so listen carefully…”

  Smith chokes under Adamus’s grasp, unable to respond.

  “Did you kill Davon Yemer?”