"I'd like this one," Thomas said as he held up a mask to the store owner.

The man looked from the mask to Thomas, then back to the mask. "Are you sure you want this one? I'm the finest mask maker in Draken Capital but this one was a misfit. It's got no opening around the mouth, making it hard to breathe. In addition, the straps and buckles make it hard to take off on your own." To demonstrate his point he tugged on the straps until his arms shook from the strain but the straps didn't budge. "It's also a boring white."

"Anything is better than this." Thomas pulled at one of the many bandages around his face.

"Might I suggest this instead." The man picked up a colorful half mask hanging on the side of his stall. "You were going towards the castle, were you not? This is bound to attract attention in any masquerade party you attend. Feel the material. While it is delicate, it's also much softer than your hard mask."

"I don't want to attract any attention to myself," Thomas insisted.

The owner sighed and beckoned for Thomas to lean closer. "Listen boy," he whispered. "You're bound to attract attention if you wear a mask around these parts. The guards are just waiting for a reason. They may say the fight is over but they're tracking down the stragglers. If you want to hide your face, best pretend you're one of the few remaining nobles. They'll hesitate."

"This isn't to hide my face," Thomas slapped a handful of gold coins on the counter. "I'd like to purchase this misfit mask, please."

"Thomas, are you coming?" Frey called out from up the street.

"Keep the change," Thomas said before he grabbed the mask, pushed through the crowded street, and met back up with the others.

"Are you going to rob a store or something?" Elero asked, pointing to the mask. A few, finer-dressed people within earshot put a spring in their step.

"No. Don't say stuff like that out loud," Thomas assured her as he stowed the mask in his spatial ring.

"What? Are people going to be afraid of a girl in a wheelchair?" Elero remarked. "The guards of the middle district have enough on their hands."

"We have bigger things to worry about." Thomas rolled down his suit sleeves and patted out the creases. "Why aren't the rest of you dressed up?"

"My clothes are full of gunshots," Doevm said.

"Same," Frey nodded.

"I can only wear these shorts," Elero said.

Thomas shook his head. "Excuses excuses. We have to look good for the nobles. It'll help our argument. We might even have time to change." He glanced up at the enormous light crystal held by a skeletal arm above the capital. "Then again, how does anyone tell the time in this place?"

"I just have to do my job," Doevm stated. "Lance said he just needed a convincing show. Anyone who isn't getting surgery should wait outside the council room."

"Thomas might as well give his suit to Doevm," Elero suggested.

"It'll look baggy on Doevm," Frey said. "He's too short and skinny."

"Not by that much," Doevm muttered. "Frey, I'd like to see you try to squeeze into Thomas's suit." Elero chuckled.

"Ok that's enough about my clothing choices," Thomas snapped. "Elero, aren't you nervous? We're already in the noble district."

The street edges of cubic, white stone homes and shops thinned out like the crowd. Vibrant plant life and metal fences marked the edges of wide walkways between tall, colorful homes. Those on foot were either guards or guests. The rest were driven around via carriages. The city's famed light crystal, now suspended in place by heavy chains in addition to a skeletal arm, highlighted four castle walls.

"Elero," Thomas repeated. "I asked you if you were nervous?"

Elero grabbed her wheelchair's armrests. "I've only been waiting for this day for over a year. No big deal." She looked over her shoulder at Doevm as he wheeled her along. "Aren't you nervous? This might be a trap."

"I won't fall for the same trick twice. Besides, I have friends in high places." Two guards greeted them with hard stares.

"Halt," the guards said as the group stepped on the drawbridge. "We are required to submit you to a strip search before entering the council room."

"You already did that," Doevm said with a bit of soul mana.

The guards slackened for a moment: "You are all cleared. We will escort you to your destination. Make no sudden movements. You are not allowed to perform any magic until you are permitted. Do not unsheathe your weapons. If any of these restrictions are broken, you will be executed on the spot. Do you understand?"

"Yes I do," Doevm replied. The guards signaled to follow before anyone else could respond. 'They weren't talking to the others,' Doevm thought.

Through an arched entryway stretched a hallway. Crystal chandeliers' light followed Doevm. He wheeled Elero along in a silence only broken by the occasional creaks of her wheelchair.

White-knuckled hands fiddled with weapon hilts.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Elero asked.

"You will be fine," Doevm comforted. "Just bear with the pain."

"That, I can do."

The hallway came to an end where rows of velvet seats and hardwood tables sat opposite to enchanted double doors with two armed guards. Over a dozen leather shoes tapped impatiently, a few of which paused at the group's arrival. Awaiting nobles looked the group up and down.

"Frey, Thomas, you two should wait here," Doevm said, pointing to a section of empty seats.

Frey nodded, took a seat, and pulled out a book from his spatial ring. Many waxed mustaches twinged as the looming behemoth hunched over his book. Frey slowly looked up from the book. The room quieted. "I look forward to both of you walking out of there."

"Good luck," Thomas said.

"Thanks," Elero said. She took a deep breath and smacked the sides of her wheelchair. "Let's do this thing."

The doors opened. The guards nudged both Doevm and Elero into the council room, much to the complaints of those who had been waiting, and shut the doors behind them.

Tension resided in the dark, stale air. Old, human men spectated the center from high seats along the perimeter. Some stroked their finely trimmed beards, others spectated in a calculative silence, and then there was Lance.

The middle-aged Head Mage seemed much younger. He stood at the center of the room reading off three pages of notes: "And to demonstrate the possible benefits we have Elero Mech. There isn't a single healer who doesn't know her, or her incurable curse. Next to her is the hero of my academy, Doevm. A former student of the academy, he excelled at academics, assisted in reverse engineering black powder, and defeated the demon army,"

The guards escorted Elero and Doevm next to Lance.

The head of the committee, Lord Botomon spoke up. He was just as fat as Doevm remembered, maybe bigger than the Bulber. "Please make a quick demonstration," he said while waving his ringed fingers at them. "I tire of hearing needless complaints."

'But we haven't said anything,' Doevm thought.

The explanation quickly made itself known. "They aren't needless," another member of the committee croaked. He jabbed a finger at Doevm and scowled. "If the War Monks were still here they would slay that heathen on the spot."

"The War Monks would kill all of us, given the chance," Doevm spoke up on his own behalf. Lance shook his head. The guards drew their weapons.

"Dark Mage," Lord Botomon stated. "Unless you have any kind of standing, do not speak unless spoken to. Your head is still attached to your shoulders because I am in need of entertainment."

"I'm a veteran, a captain from the year-long war," Doevm explained. "Is this the treatment I have earned?"

"Interesting," Lord Botomon mused. "Guards, stow your weapons. Let the dark mage continue."

"These are outlandish accusations," the outspoken noble muttered. "The War monks are just ensuring the safety of humanity by following the hero."

Doevm turned to the outspoken noble with a dead-pan look on his face. He spoke without a single hint of sarcasm or emotion: "Oh, that's right. The War Monks follow the Goddess. They are simply doing what's right by stabbing the kingdom in the back. The War Monks betrayed us because they must assist the hero in the coming battle. Surely not I, a mere heretic, can do what a band of murderers and traitors cannot. The Demon King is a fierce villain who causes fear in the hearts of men. He is a terror that must be stopped at all costs. No one could ever dream of beating such an unstoppable force if not for the War Monks. I shall depart for Vilbar and apologize." The rooms' snickers turned into a mix of suppressed laughter and red-faced, silent rage. Doevm remained stoic.

"Continue," Lord Botomon said in between coughs.

Doevm picked Elero up and helped lay her on a table. Her thin body shook to the touch. She picked up her flaccid legs and set them straight, causing one of the guards to grimace. Elero forced a smile: "Gross, huh?" She pushed her wheelchair so that the word "Freak", carved into the back with a blade, faced away from the crowd.

Lord Botomon nodded. "You may-"

Elero drew a dagger from her spatial ring and plunged it into her leg. She winced but dragged the dagger down through her shin and thigh. Then, she did the other leg and held the wounds open. "Oh sorry, I'm not supposed to draw a blade," Elero said. She handed the dagger to one of the guards, who turned and vomited.

Doevm rolled up his sleeves: "Your pain tolerance is frightening." His mana shot into two magic circles. In his left hand was a golden weave of the holy element. Symbols of the dark element slithered around his right hand. "Let's begin."

A gruesome scene ensued, causing many viewers to wonder if it was really worth watching or keeping their lunch in their stomachs.

When Doevm's spell circles faded, healing magic had sown up the wounds. "I couldn't erase the old scar tissue but I am done."