All characters are property of Akella unless otherwise noted. The following work belongs solely to the author (SabatonBabylon) and the artist (Akella).

“Lady Keiko you look positively radiant. Lord Torando is a lucky man,” the handmaiden proclaimed with a titter, placing the finishing touches on the silken wedding kimono that hung in a shapely fashion from her lady’s slim shoulders. Keiko nodded, turning her head left and right to better take in her holographic image which rotated before her, emanating from a display built into the marble floor.

“Yes...I suppose he is,” she agreed absently, a hint of melancholy in her voice. “Lyria, do you think I could have a moment to myself?”

“Oh, of course your majesty. I daresay this is quite the occasion for all of us. Should you need me please don’t hesitate to call. I will return when it is time for the ceremony.” With that the princess’ attendant bowed and left, softly closing the towering wooden door to Keiko’s private solar behind her. It had been nothing but a non-stop procession of well wishers and attendants all day, long before her marriage and coronation would even begin. With but a few moments left of 'freedom', Keiko looked away from the three dimensional hologram of herself and around the chamber. It had been her private retreat since she could remember, a circular room of tall sandstone columns, wide arches, intricate screens that allowed the dry summer breezes to circulate freely, and of course her plants. They were quite simply her pride and joy, her labor of love since she had been given the space and garnered the will to maintain it to her liking. All around her sprouted a bevy of palms and ferns. There were cyprus and other warm climate conifers, bonsais, and even a handful of thick-trunked local trees that she’d managed to keep reasonably sized thanks to their planters. Green was all around her, though she found the color didn’t suit her much.

“Did it really have to be jade?” She muttered, grabbing a handful of the thick silken garment and running it through her fingers. Her pads moved from the watery feel of the fabric to the rougher golden embroidery. “I look like some sort of scarab.”

“I must agree with you, my lady. Jade is not your color.”

Keiko’s blood ran cold as a heavily modified voice invaded her sanctum. With a subtle hand motion she switched the configuration of the projector before her to standard mirror, allowing her a glimpse of the crimson shadow behind her. With practiced grace she turned and extended her arm, willing a magicka revolver into her palm and pulling the trigger as rapidly as she could, her aim assisted by the lack of recoil. After all, one’s life force made the best ammunition if one could harness it. The best ammunition until it deflected harmlessly off her target’s chest, of course. Keiko’s cold blood turned to ice. The brown eyes behind that mask danced with delight.

“You surprise me, lady Keiko. I didn’t know you were such a good shot,” the voice said, casually dusting off the site her rounds had impacted. That was always his favorite part, the greatest perk of being human in a world made human-less. There was that moment, always that moment when some underbelly scum thought they had him, that victory was theirs, only for their magicka weapons to be rendered null and void against his very biology. The armor only made it better, a second skin of reactive fiber, ballistic plating, artificial sinew, and of course his own blood. The outer weave gave it a finish that danced crimson in the low light. The mercenary found it a tad dramatic, to be sure, but the psychological effect on his opponents was more than worth a bit of drama. That being said, he found his joy quite fleeting. The princess’ amber eyes were captivating and afraid. He liked that far less.

“So that’s it then?” She asked, raising her voice bravely at the figure who had quite literally stalked out of the very shadows of the doorway. “You’re here to kill me on the day of my coronation?”

The mercenary cocked his head in thought. “My lady, if I had been sent to kill you I’d have already done it.” His bravado fueled a righteous anger within her.

“So abduction then,” she hissed.

“Indeed. I ask that you make this easy on both of us and come with me, lady Keiko.”

“How many did you kill to get here?”

“None.”

“And I should be expected to believe you?”

“The entire palace would be in an uproar if I had. Listen to them,” the mercenary suggested, watching as her large ears twitched and swiveled to take in the noise of the crowds milling around outside the palace. She could hear the fanfare and jovial mood even from their sheltered location. “I do hate to disappoint them all.”

Sure you do, bastard. “Very well,” Keiko replied with far more confidence than she felt, undoing the embroidered belt that secured her wedding dress and folding it precisely in her arms. The silk dress parted to reveal the fur just below her neck. She turned from him, allowing the robe to slip from her shoulders and fall from her body. It was true. If he’d been sent to kill her she’d already have a hole in her skull. In a strange sense she was utterly secure in turning her back to him. To her perverse delight the mercenary stammered at her.

“Lady Keiko what in the name of-”

“Is that it, mercenary? The body of your queen sends you into a tizzy? You who somehow managed to get this far, unnerved by a woman? I hope you’re getting paid quite a bit for this job. Maybe you can afford a new voice modulator, one that doesn’t crack when you see a woman’s backside?” She laughed to conceal the utter terror forming in her breast, neatly folding the dress in shaking hands, perhaps to buy just a little more time. “If you insist on taking me from here I’ll not be dirtying this dress, garish as it is. I don’t think you deserve that satisfaction.” The mercenary remained silent, though a tentative look over her shoulder confirmed that he’d not turned away from her. If he had he’d be a truly awful gun for hire. “How long do I have?”

For a moment the mercenary stood stock still, his eyes drawn to the subtle curvature of the canine-anthro’s spine. She was an impeccable specimen, of that there wasn’t any doubt. Her limbs were covered primarily in black fur, with the occasional white finger or toe as well as a handful of spots here and there. Her chest was different, mainly a dusky savannah gold with splotches of black and white throughout. He’d not seen her front other than the barest hint of the white fur of her chest, but he was sure it was equally enticing. What held his attention, however, was the row of golden plates that accentuated her spine. He counted twenty in all, beginning at her lower neck and extending down to the base of her tail. Each was wider than it was long and featured a sunken diamond of magicite in the center, the iridescent stones shimmering like the night sky as the diffuse afternoon sun filtered through the solar. The rest of his brain finally jogged back into action as she repeated her question with a swish of her black tail, tipped with a fluffy white tuft at the end.

“How long do I have, tall, dark and distracted?”

The mercenary’s first impulse was to grab her and haul her sarcastic ass out the service corridors, but he’d never been involved in a case where his target played a cooperative role, or at least an acquiescent role, in their own abduction. He breathed heavily through his nose and activated the encrypted comm link he’d established between the members of his crew.

“Talon, how long?”

“Shift changes in five. Call it ten max. What the hell’s taking so long, Seth?”

“Understood,” he replied gruffly, denying his partner any further information. Talon was an exceptional sniper and lookout, a cassowary who played to his strengths and had a set of his namesake talons waiting for anyone who got too close. He was a good merc and drinking buddy, but he was too damn nosy for his own good. “You have five minutes, lady Keiko.”

“I suppose that’s more than most of your hapless targets receive,” she shot back, walking over to a wardrobe carved of yellowwood and removing a long linen cloth that she threw over her neck and expertly wrapped around herself, covering each breast with an X-like pattern before allowing the fabric to encircle her waist and fan out, forming an oblong skirt of sorts that came down past her right knee and rested just below the middle of her left thigh. It covered everything necessary and would allow for freedom of movement. Keiko quickly stuffed another similar item into a sling bag she’d typically use for her gardening, along with whatever electronic devices she could find at hand and a couple other items of clothing. Her spine went rigid as she heard hard steps on the floor behind her.

“The bag,” Seth demanded, taking it from her and scanning it and its contents quickly with the optics built into his mask. Far as his gear could tell there was nothing that would allow her to be tracked. “Your eyes then.”

Keiko looked away from him in fear, that jagged oni mask and the suit were too much. She certainly didn’t want him this close, looking at her that intently.

“We don’t have time for this. I’m only going to disable the connection to the central Alhamkara network, nothing more.”

Keiko shut her eyes tightly and took a steadying breath before looking back at him. She watched his brown eyes as they moved quickly over her irises. Seth easily found and cut the link to the central information networks of the country as well as a handful of private lines of communication that she would have been able to make use of within the palace, trying his best to not drown in those deep amber pools. Wild dogs apparently had wild eyes.

“We’re going, now.”

“And where are we going, exactly?”

“You really think I’m going to tell you that?”

“It was worth a shot.”

“Hmph. Put this on,” Seth commanded, reaching into the bag on the back of his waist and withdrawing an uninspiring gray cloak. She complied and took a closer look, noticing fine metallic fibers within the weave. She was almost certain she would be invisible to cameras and other surveillance. There weren’t even holes for her black-furred ears, which were forced to lay as flat against her head as she could get them. She contented herself by making note of her abductor’s mask and helmet as he donned his own cloak and led her to the door of her solar before speaking to what had to be one of his compatriots. The audio was garbled intentionally by his mask, a mask with no ears. Either he was of a species without much need for larger helmets or he’d gone through serious amputation in order to wear something that fit his skull so closely. “Whatever you do, do not stop, do not hesitate, do not look back, and do not disobey my orders. Do that much and I can guarantee you’ll live to see the sunset.”

“And beyond that?” She demanded as they slipped into the empty corridor and moved along a wall that led to the servant’s passages. He’d timed it perfectly.

“We’ll see.”

The wild dog felt her legs quake and nearly give way as they stumbled along yet another passage she’d never known about, her claws clicking and clacking against the stone along with his boots, every footfall echoing around them. Down and around they moved, never encountering another soul. Somehow even in the midst of a royal wedding and coronation there was enough room to spirit away the princess herself. She’d known the mnyama had been growing in strength for years, something she had every intention of addressing as matriarch of Alhamkara, but this was unprecedented. Kidnapping her right from under not only her father’s nose, but her groom’s as well on this of all days? It appeared the rumors of a particularly effective and particularly shadowy lone wolf mercenary were true, and that someone had amassed enough credits to employ him on this sort of job. The implications were...disturbing.

Wise ones, lend me strength, Keiko pleaded as her masked assailant led her hooded figure out of a small passage and into the anonymous throng of citizens awaiting the announcement of their princess’ union to the lord of the neighboring kingdom. It was a union to bring about peace and prosperity between nations and a chance to rekindle some of the glory of the time of humans. With every step through the crowding throngs she was spirited away from that world and into the dark underbelly from which this mercenary, this creature, was made manifest.

“Oh, and one more thing, my lady. If you try to scream or run, one of us will kill you,” he promised, fingering the onyx handle of a curved blade that rested at his hip. She kept her head down and tried not to weep.

-----

Keiko checked her lens and saw that it was now close to sundown. In a perverse way the mercenary had been right. She’d said nothing, kept her head down, and not tried to run, putting one foot in front of the other and wandering wherever the figure with the strange armor and mask led. Lo and behold she was still alive, though she knew not where she was. They’d passed out of the palace district and the market district long ago, ending up in a seemingly never ending maze of claustrophobic alleyways, broad avenues, neon signs, holographic displays, and a mixture of less well to do and shady figures going about their lives. The streets were clean and clear with trees and shrubs to be seen everywhere, lending a well manicured and gentle touch to the brick and mud buildings around them. She took pride in that, at least. It was so strange. For her entire life Keiko had always been attended to, always observed. She enjoyed her gilded cage but was wise enough to see it for what it was. Hearing about the city from her network of spies and informants was one thing. Walking the streets herself, stepping around puddles from last week’s rain, hearing the call of vendors and whores, looking every which way as no one paid her more than a passing glance...it was strangely thrilling. That was, of course, until she remembered the reason no one looked her way too long, the armored hand that guided her and the mercenary it was attached to.

He had remained silent since they’d fled the palace. Occasionally they would stop and he would incline his head, perhaps listening to whoever was on the other side of his network. Other times he would gently steer her into an alley, only to have a police or military patrol walk by a moment later. Every move was calculated and calm, never giving off an air of hesitation or panic, and certainly never indicating he felt any nervousness at having captured Alhamkara’s princess on her wedding day with nary a struggle. She didn’t fight him and he hadn’t harmed her. It was a temporary truce that had her heart straining against her ribs, wondering when the Sword of Damocles above her head would fall and end her life.

“My lady, if you would follow me,” the mercenary ordered, having guided her into yet another alley and up the worn stone stairs of a non-descript apartment building’s back entrance. For a long moment they stood on the stoop, gazing at the weathered metal door. Graffiti and banged up garbage containers were there only defining features of the back street. She couldn't see any cameras either. “Talon, Argos, we clear?” Seth demanded, the bloody glow of his armor contrasting with the flickering LED above the door.

“Affirmative, Seth. No pursuers.”

“And the building?”

“Zero activity in the annex.”

“Good.”

Keiko looked up at the mercenary with hesitation as he extended his arm and something in the door’s security system recognized him. The lock clicked open and he pushed the door inward. Her ears twitched as creaking metal and a dingy, poorly lit hallway greeted her. The terror inside grew stronger and she breathed heavily to steady her feet, which she now realized were aching after half a day of walking around the city. At his insistence she moved forward over the threshold, shuddering as the door closed behind her. Trapped like a rat.

“Sybela, sitrep,” the merc continued, leading her up a flight of stairs to their right.

“What do you think the sitrep is, you goddamn monkey?” The lagomorph shot back over comms. “The whole damn palace guard, police, and military are trying to find you without alerting the entire country to the fact that their princess has gone missing, to say nothing of Torando who got left hanging at the altar. Did the prick who ordered this job realize there was a non-zero chance of re-igniting a fucking war? One that would deep six every mnyama that’s finally grown a pair and stuck its nose out of the shadows?”

The mercenary paused for a moment and regarded Keiko as they rested on a landing in between floors. She watched as carefully as she could without letting her fear turn to bile or tears. There was something so off about this man, so strange, she could barely believe something like him existed. She didn’t even know what he was. Keiko’s eyes widened with surprise. Is he...laughing?!

“You must be quite the woman, lady Keiko. The face that launched a thousand rockets…”

“What’s going on? What’s happening back at the palace?!”

“Maybe we’ll talk. Top floor. Move.”

With frustration mounting and crowding next to the despair within, Keiko climbed the remaining stairs to the fourth floor, waiting as the mercenary passed her and repeated the same process in front of yet another unremarkable door. She tried to ignore the smell of rot and peeling paint. His modified voice brought her back to reality.

“Inside, now,” he ordered, almost pushing her over the threshold before squeezing in behind her and shutting the door. As he turned and engaged at least three separate physical and digital locking mechanisms, Keiko surveyed the room, her jaw dropping as she did so. Wherever they were it was clear they’d not arrived by accident. The walls were clean, pristine even, covered with red wooden lattice and some sort of translucent material, behind which soft LEDs lit the space. The light wasn’t a typical artificial blue, but a light that mirrored the setting sun over the dusty red plains of her country’s arid regions. She found herself wondering if the morning would be equally pleasing to the eye. Silhouettes of baobabs, gum acacias, and candelabra trees added to the strange motif of a small shrine situated in the middle of the grasslands, the birthplace of her species. Hanging from the wooden beams of the ceiling were paper lanterns that lent the space even more light. The floors were made of tatami, split into rectangles by a deep brown wooden frame that lent the entire space a pattern. Against the far wall a futon could be found, perfectly made up with a comforter depicting a sakura tree in bloom.

“So, what do you think?” Keiko shrieked and almost jumped out of her fur, having gotten so caught up in the small sanctuary she’d just walked into that she’d completely forgotten how she’d arrived there. The synthetic material of the mercenary’s armor gripped her shoulder softly. He’d divested himself of his cloak. “My apologies, lady Keiko. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“F-frighten me?” She squeaked, feeling a sudden spark of anger roar into all encompassing flame as she proceeded to yell at the top of her lungs at him. “Frighten me?! You’ve done much more than that, whoever you are. You abducted me, stole me away from my life and my duty. You led me through the streets of my own capital like some alley spawn and worst of all you have the nerve to treat me like you're some sort of gentleman when the only possible reason you have for taking me is to sell me off to the highest bidding mnyama boss so I can be raped and broken. And don’t act so surprised behind that oni mask of yours. What are you, some sort of human culture fetishist? I know girls, women. I’ve taken them into my service once your world chewed them up and spat them out with unwanted children or broken bodies.” She lunged for his knife, precipitating a squabble that had her quickly disarmed and pinned to the floor, her arm behind her back and his knee pressing painfully against her kidney. The tears finally came. “Just kill me, please. Let me be free,” she cried, feeling her eyes cloud with the salted heat of tears.

The mercenary said nothing as he knelt above her, though he did lessen the pressure against her arm and back as she heaved and sobbed after hours of trying to maintain the strong demeanor of a noble princess. Slowly he returned his knife to its sheath on his belt and stood, offering her his hand and adjusting something on his mask with the other.

“I will not kill you, but I will not allow anyone else to kill you...or your spirit.” The voice modulation was gone, though the mask remained. But Keiko had something now, something to go with the conflicted brown eyes that lay behind the synthetic onyx material of the mercenary’s faceplate. His voice was low and clear; it reminded her of the snow-capped Mount Antares, rising proudly above the grassy plains and sandy deserts of her nation. Her golden pools searched his eyes, hoping to discern something, anything, about this man. “For now though I require your aid, lady Keiko.”

“I...excuse me?” She whispered, accepting his offered hand and getting a good long look at his plantigrade legs as she rose to her feet. They looked slim and strong, powerful without hindering the movement of their master. His abdomen and chest followed the pattern, easily discernible under the suit that fit him like a second skin. This was no brawler. This man was one of agility and subterfuge. What is he? She wondered anew, taking advantage of the proximity to inhale deeply, to attempt to place any sort of organic scent lurking behind the smell of the streets, military grade protective alloys, oil, and magicka residue. There was something there, something faint...sweat.

“I need your help, lady Keiko. While I very much intended to abscond with you today, I did not intend to start any sort of broad armed conflict. That would be very much against my interests...and yours, I would assume?” He explained.

“Torando believes my father is behind this?” She guessed. He nodded, crossing an arm across his body and examining the fingers of his other hand.

“Or some other palace elements. However I believe this presents an...opportunity, if you will. Tell me, lady Keiko, what do you know of the mnyama?”

“Why should I tell you about your own employers?” She shot back, taking a step away from the shimmering armor that reminded her far too much of blood.

“A fair question, but one we do not have time for. So let me tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to bind your hands and lead you back out into that hallway. A perfect, nondescript, untraceable background, don’t you think? After all, these slums go on forever.”

“They do not!” She bit back, somehow offended at the evaluation of the state of her nation.

“Perhaps,” the mercenary admitted, “but they do seem to multiply with each passing year, do they not?”

“Something I’m more than willing to place squarely at the feet of you and your precious mnyamas!” Keiko shouted. He waved it off, clearly unconcerned about the soundproofing of the room.

“Do not presume too much, my lady. Now as I was saying, I intend to distribute a picture of you bound and captive across all of Alhamkara’s networks...along with a handful of additions of my own choosing. Sybela, you have those Trang’aul assets on hand?” He asked, leaving Keiko yet again with more questions at the mention of one of the smaller, new mnyamas to have risen to national prominence, not to mention whoever this Sybela was.

“Is that who hired you? Those barbarians?” She demanded, earning a nod from her captor.

“Barbarians indeed. No sense of tact or class. They love their spiked bats and shotguns when one bullet or a well placed knife will suffice. But what do you expect from a bunch of hyenas?” The mercenary tisked, looking up and away from her as something played across his ocular implants. “Rest easy my lady, they did not hire me. But I intend to make it so they wish they had.” With a glance of his eyes he activated a projection function in his mask, showing Keiko how she would be revealed to the waiting world. She saw herself flanked by two massive hyena anthros, one holding a brutal looking magicka shotgun and the other holding a chain sword, a truly abhorrent weapon that the gang had used to gain prominence and reputation in lieu of numbers or connections. She was too close to the camera of course, so it looked ridiculous in the moment, but she knew that out in that dark hallway her kidnapper would have a perfect fake.

“Why?”

“Will you cooperate or not?” He demanded, completely unyielding to her request. Keiko felt her tail bristle with indignation as she extended her hands, her wrists crossed one over the other. “My my, you surprise me, lady Keiko.”

She hated that too, how he so casually used her name as though he’d known her for years. Her fur stood on end as he touched her, fitting a simple pair of zip ties across her wrists and escorting her back outside once he’d undone the locks. It was all over in seconds. She’d been forced to her knees, glaring at the camera, and the next second he was kneeling before her and cutting her bonds, his eyes moving rapidly behind the mask as the image was doctored and sent to whomever his network professional was on the other side. He did not speak again until they were safely inside.

“Mmm, already? Keep me posted, Sybela. Well my lady, it may be presumptuous of me to say this, but the nation of Alhamkara thanks you for your service.”

Keiko remained silent, looking at his hand. Perhaps she was looking through his hand, he couldn’t be sure. Gears were turning behind her brilliant yellow eyes. She had no answer for him. The mercenary cocked his head but allowed sleeping dogs to lie, sitting in a slim, unremarkable bamboo chair and activating a wall panel that folded out into a network access terminal. Three separate images eventually resolved themselves, but they were scattered and useless static when Keiko looked at them. There was clearly something happening within the mask that allowed him to translate the images. His voice was modified and garbled again.

“Argos, Talon, we’re done here. Inform him that the mission was a success. He’s dumb enough to be taken in by that Trang’aul mock up and I’d rather not be disturbed this week. It’s been too long since I was allowed to make use of this safehouse. Sybela, the blood dragon works like a charm, even deflected the princess’ magicka straight from the source. The credits are on their way. Don’t blow it all on jaguar dick this time, alright?”

Keiko hadn’t heard much, but she definitely heard the unintelligible screaming that had her captor recoiling and reaching to remove his mask, only realizing at the last moment that he had no option but to remain concealed, lest he reveal his identity to the princess of Alhamkara. She gave him a sly smile as he suffered on the receiving end of some tirade or another, though the smile faded well before he’d returned the terminal to the wall and stood before her. It was just the two of them in that silent, beautiful room.

“You must be hungry, my lady.”

“I’m not your lady.”

“I am a citizen of Alhamkara. You are my princess, my lady.”

Keiko had nothing left, nothing to say. This was it. This room was her life until this strange man told her otherwise. Would it be a day, a week, a year? She had no idea. She was done with this ridiculous man and his smooth talk and mysterious mask. He followed her as she slumped to the floor.

“You must be hungry,” he tried again. She didn’t bother denying it. He reached behind him and withdrew a metallic band from his belt, a custom set of bindings.

“So you’re going to tie me up now?”

“Your arms, my lady. It’s part of the job, I’m afraid. I can’t have you sneaking out on me. Wouldn’t be worth much as a mercenary if I let my marks run all about the district, now would I?” She sighed but complied, exposing the mottled black, brown, and white fur of her forearms as he gently allowed the band to expand over her hands before collapsing snugly around her wrists. He looked her in the eye.

“If you approach the door, this will hurt you. If you do not, you will not come to any harm. None of the devices in here can be accessed by you and none of your own electronics will be able to reach the national or local networks.

“Do you really need to do this?” She pleaded.

“I do.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“You already asked me, my lady.”

“Will you answer me this time?”

“To get paid. Would that satisfy you?”

“You’re unsure.”

“About a great many things. But I do know I intend to use you for my own reasons. Not sure if that makes you feel any better.”

Keiko felt like she’d been hit with a ton of bricks. What in the name of humanity had she gotten mixed up in. Within the last six hours her assailant had captured her and sown the seeds of Trang’aul’s destruction. She was more and more willing to consider that money had nothing to do with this, nor even her body. Her brain was working again. She was hungry; she needed fuel for it. Her heart beat quicker as she steeled herself to try to play his game.

“Instead of worrying about the shady mnyama boss who hired you, I have you. At least you I can see and touch and…smell.” She could detect his sweat again, clearer now. There was more mixed in with that scent. She made her decision, to ask the question that had been gnawing at her for at least the last hour. It couldn’t be, they were all supposed to be gone, but somehow it was the most logical explanation. “When were you going to tell me you’re a human?”

Seth sat back on his haunches, unable to avoid what he knew was a look of shock and awe in his eyes. Even behind the mask it suddenly seemed like her auric gaze would bore right through him. The wild dog sensed his trepidation and snarled back. “Just how stupid do you believe women are? You have plantigrade legs yet you aren’t built like a bear or a wolverine. Your gloves contain no space for claws and every species I know of with retractable claws is digitigrade, like me. Your mask and helmet have no room for large ears. You sweat...and you’re immune to mackiga based weapons.”

“My lady is sure it’s not simply the latest Kinagusa armor model?” Keiko barked furiously at his question, snapping her teeth at him.

“You really do think I’m stupid.”

“Excuse me? I meant no offense, my lady.”

“The underground is a constant battle for supremacy, survival of the fittest. Every armor is eventually countered by a new firearm or ammunition type and so on. No one mnyama or manufacturer ever holds the high ground for long. And yet the rumors always persist. My little birds would oft sing to me of a mercenary whose armor can always take a lethal hit, a lone wolf in constant demand, killing for the highest bidder. I think it’s more than clear what you are, to say nothing of your scent. I’ve never smelled anything like it, smoke and water. I don’t know how it could be but here you are right before my eyes, talking down to me and tying me up before dinner...human.”

The mercenary looked at her for a long while, his eyes roving from her own up to her white-tipped ears, down along the slope of her neck, along her golden shoulders, and up her patchwork arms. Eventually he spoke. “You know much about the world, my lady. Parts of the world you shouldn’t know.”

“Which is precisely why a future queen must know of them,” she declared boldly, challenging him to tell her that she would die before that day came. He stood instead, his armor creaking against itself as synthetic materials were wont to do.

“What would my lady like for dinner? The neighborhood we find ourselves in is known for its oriental flavors.”

She narrowed her eyes and bared her fangs, taking some small liberty in the knowledge he seemed intent on not killing her just yet. “Meat."