"I need to take you to the safe house now, Dimitri," Ser Garret said with firmness, fear, and concern of a friend.

But his father didn't seem to mind. He nodded then turned to Gris. "I know you will not come with me. Be careful... son."

"I will," he said and sprinted from the room as the King and his escorts quickly left for the safe house.

At top speed, Gris ran through the West Wing and took a short cut into the North Wing. The sound of chaos grew louder as he passed nobles and officials running for their lives. As he approached the kitchens and dinning spaces, slaves waved weapons in the air. They tore draperies, banners, and paintings off the walls and ignored Gris demanding them to stop. Thick smoke drifted from a hall leading to the Kitchens. Soldiers shoved pass him with buckets of water to put out the fire.

"No this can't be happening," he said and exited the North Wing by an entrance into a courtyard. There he stood, frozen in place, jaw dropping to his feet. Within the courtyard itself, it looked like an invasion or a war.

Screams and explosions pierced his ears and the smell of burning stones and wood poisoned the air. Hell fire had devoured two sections of the West Wing's Slave Quarters which he instantly recognized. His chambers and the slave dormitories. By the thick black smoke rising around the area, he knew the fire was spreading fast. The purple color of the night sky had dissolved at some point, leaving behind a dull black color that made Gris sick to the stomach as the smoke blended in. Everything he had worked on and worked for was gone. Everything he had illegally bought and inventions he had produced over time were now gone.

Slaves, his slaves were everywhere, some with weapons and some carrying torches of fire, yelling angrily at the top of their lungs. Palace security and fireguards were scattered about, some chasing or fighting slaves, while others carried buckets of water into the West Wing entrances.

He spotted Anobas and grabbed him from his group of rioters.

"Have you lost your minds?"

"Sorry Gris, but we've had enough of this!"

"Who started the fire?"

"I don't know, but we all got the message," he snarled. "We are not Strange. We are Fair!"

"Okay, but where's Limp?"

"Going to your quarters, last I heard," Anobas said and yanked away. "Find someplace safe Your Highness. Not all slaves liked you."

Gris stared at him in disbelief, praying this was just a dream. But the hunchback held up a sword he took from a fallen soldier and gave a victor's cry.

"Don't kill anyone," Gris said but the hunchback was already gone.

Gris took the inner pathways towards the northside of the wing until he came across people forming a line, both slaves and security and even some officials.

"Pass it quickly! Pass it quickly," shouted Polni, the Captain of the Royal Fireguard. He and his people easily ignored chaos to focus on the hungry fire. Already they had a system unfolding, passing buckets of water into the building.

"Captain," Gris said.

The captain did a double-take and gave him a firm glare.

"You should not be here, Your Highness," he said and before he could respond he put a hand up for silence. He turned to a knight in the line. "You Ser, escort the Prince away."

"No," Gris said. "I'm here to help."

"This is no place for a prince."

"This is my home too," he said.

"Ugh. Very well, but you must stay within my sight," the captain said as if to take the responsibility of his parent, but Gris knew he wasn't going to obey.

"Are the water tunnels being used?"

"And the water wheel, but the fire is a hungry one."

"What's the plan then?"

"I've sent word to give up on the Slave Quarters," he said, and Gris trembled. "It's lost, Your Highness, but I still have my people there to make sure it doesn't spread to any of the farmland and the outhouses. Our priority now is making sure the fire doesn't reach the main halls leading to the Justice Wing. The last thing we need is to lose the courts and the Throne Hall."

Forget the court and damn throne hall, he wanted to say, but a dark feeling overwhelmed him. His friend wasn't okay. He had to find him to set himself at ease.

"Have you seen or spoken to Rasheem?"

"No. Haven't seen him but-,"

Gris didn't wait for him to finish. He sprinted for the door, ignoring the captain ordering him to come back. He entered the palace, following the line of people. When the line began to shift towards the lower half of the wing, he redirected himself back into the Slave Quarters. The smoke was heavier and blacker in this area and stung his throat. He grabbed a cloth from the floor and wrapped it around the lower half of his face.

"Limp," he shouted hoping to see his friend pop out of nowhere.

He then spotted Mira, face covered in soot throwing a bucket of water onto a wall turning red. "Mira," he said and fell into a horde of coughs.

She approached him and literally slapped him in the back of his head.

"Ow," he cringed.

Her hands quickly signed in frustration. You stupid boy. You should not be here!

"I know. I'm fine. I'm here to help."

She shook her head and signed. No, you are a prince. You should not be here.

"I don't care who I am. I am helping. End of story. Now where is Limp?"

Tears fell from her eyes, and she shrugged. Last I heard he was in your chambers.

Gris gasped fear growing in his soul like a plague. "Have you seen him since?"

No. I've been looking for him too, but no one's seen him.

"I need to find him." He went to take off, but Mira grabbed him and shook him hard.

"Have you lost your mind?" she said with a cracked voice which caught Gris off guard. Then he remembered how Mageia's sacrifice had healed everyone. But before he could acknowledge her voice, her hands returned to signing. The Slave Quarters is gone!

"I will be okay," he assured her.

Without waiting for her to rebuttal, he shot way into the darkness. He prayed Limp was far from his chambers when the fire started. He then wondered who was the first to start the riot and the fire? And why the Slave Quarters and not the Royal Quarters? It made no sense, but he had no time to think that through. He had to find his friend or help with something.

Coughing for air, he stayed along the walls and kept his body low as he canvassed the halls. He approached a few slaves and helped them by pointing out the safe way he had come. When he asked them where Limp was, they all said his chambers. If only someone told him that they had seen him putting out a fire or something, it would put him at ease. But now his anxiety was pouring sweat into his eyes.

As he stumbled around a corner, he ran into Dargany and felt almost overjoyed. The soldier was with fireguards, soldiers, and slaves, hauling barrels of water from a wheeling system connected to those on the ground, perched on a shattered window. Two at a time hauled the barrels into adjoined rooms consumed in smoke and the flickering light of fire.

"Dargany!"

The man looked shocked to see him. "Tell me I'm dreaming. Why the fut are you here?"

"Looking for Limp," he said. Instantly, the guard's face fell guilty. He coughed to clear his rusting throat. "What's wrong?"

Dargany pulled down his smoke mask. "Gris you should not be here. It's too dangerous. I heard the Royals has been summoned to leave."

"I know. Have you seen Limp?"

"I'm sorry, Gris."

"What'd you mean?"

"I was put to guard your chambers before Limp came. He wanted to remind us that your banishment was lifted and..."

The soldier's brown eyes widened, reading that he did not want to continue.

"Dargany?"

"I let him go in along with a slave boy and called my men off the front doors."

"Okay..."

"He didn't want me to stay, but I told him I could help. Then a soldier came in..."

Gris waited for him to continue and read confusion crawling onto his face.

"What happened?"

"I never seen him before," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"He wore the Hiilaan escort armor and sigil, but I've never seen him on royal grounds before. Usually, every soldier wears their knight's rank, but this one didn't. He looked like he was up to no good."

"Up to no good, Dargany?"

"Yeah, he kept smiling. This weird grin and his eyes were...weird."

"Weird? How?"

The color in Dargany's face drained. "They were so blue... But I don't know maybe I was just tired."

Gris gasped. "Wait blue? Did he have blonde hair?"

"Yeah."

"Oh no," Gris said recalling how the soldier and his companion disappeared after ruining his speech with the slaves.

"Gris, he told me the Commander wanted to see me at the Front Foyer where he was giving new orders. Something about riots in the cities and doubling guard. I wanted to question more, but I don't know... I left him with Limp and the boy. By the time I got to the Foyer, the fire started, and I returned. The hall leading to your chambers were on fire."

"And Limp?"

"Nowhere to be found. No one could go inside," Dargany said. "Maybe he's somewhere around here. He could've left before the fire.

"Not unless the soldier hurt him first..."

Dargany's eyebrows shot up into his head.

"Dargany. That same soldier came into the Mess Hall and taunted my workers about riots in the cities. Then he disappeared and an escort from my father told me he'd summoned me."

"Okay..."

"But that soldier had already told me I was summoned. It was weird, but I didn't think anything of it," Gris said, and horror iced his veins.

"What does this mean?"

"Something's not right about this fire, Dargany."

"You think that soldier set it?"

"Yes, in my chambers," he said. "With Limp still inside."