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On the 15th of May; the continent was still in mourning for those who died. The AHA’s Downfall was a sad and immoral event. Death counts, as reported by the officials were in the forties. Families cried and wept, lovers fell into despair, children lost fathers, mothers, and some even became orphans. Emperor Sultria VI was quick to jump on national television. He explained in greater detail all the while being very sympathetic to the ones hurt. Manipulation at the highest degree, ‘those who did hurt to our people shall have the hurt returned ten-fold.’ A normal thing to say when things seemed to be this bad, false promises of revenge and all. ‘My words are not in vain; I promise to find the culprit and have them brought to justice.’ A bold promise to which bolder actions needed to accomplish said task. The easiest thing to do would have been blaming the situation on a villain. Said thought did creep around the mind until the idea of Justice grew important. The matter at hand was far greater than keeping appearances.

‘What a fool,’ the scenery changed from rural to urban. From the rocky peaks of Marrowy to the concrete jungle of Melmark – the railway from above was as if the lines ants made when walking. Orderly and without anyone trying to outpace another. The building in question; 40 floors high with a view over the main-plaza close to the middle of Melmark. Behind said building stood others, they were of lower but larger size. A squad of monologue figures without limbs and arms – an army of torsos. The impression; eerie.

“Master, we’ve reached the given location,” said éclair in the loud hovering helicopter.

“Good,” sipping the last bit of whiskey, “-is there a place to land?”

“Yes sir,” said the pilot, “-the backwater from the wind makes her harder to land.”

“Must be the higher buildings,” commented Staxius.

.....

“No need to worry sir, I’ll have her land without trouble.” As confident as one possibly could, he made good on the word. The metal bird landed without much trouble. It was said as if to promote how good of a pilot he was.

“Here we are, sir.”

“Good work, be on stand-by,” peering through the black-tinted glass, the waiting party didn’t seem amused.

“éclair, give me the name of everyone who stands there.”

“Yes sir.”

A black and grey colored box for glasses rested on the back. The insides of the bird were one of luxury, a model made for transportation only. It explained why the back held seating for 4 arranged in a two-by-two manner. At the center, a table; for lack of a better word, hovered. On it was where the box rested. Engraved with C.Reinhard; it opened to show a thin clear round golden-rimmed glasses. ‘The visual interface for éclair is here.’ Carefully, he placed the frame atop his nose. The face and persona changed instantly, he resembled more of an idol, a fashion-star, than a scholar, which was the intent. The long white-crimson hair matched with the glasses, the eyes which peered out; crimson and stoic, were amplified. By the Alphian standard, not to under mind one else, Staxius fit their criteria for what was viewed as being handsome. In what felt like an hour; the door slide menacingly. The rotors were long silent. The white-chopper striped with gold, yet another addition to Phantom’s inventory of crafts. The particular model was a clone of the U93-1, named U93-2. Slimmer, faster, less obnoxious than its predecessor, and equipped with the AFR, a massive improvement on the first model. Phantom’s laid upon the door.

“Mr. Haggard?” came a man rubbing his hand.

“Yes,” returned he glancing at the various individual.

“Master, I’ve linked myself to the glasses. You should have a live-feed.” By that, he meant, anyone Staxius stared would have their information revealed in detail.

‘Very convenient,’ thought he being escorted to the higher floors. Inside, the layout was similar to any high-end office building. The people gave courteous smiles to those who dressed the part. *Ding,* and up they went.

Half-way across, on floor 20, the lift opened to an empty corridor.

“This way.”

*Le Court’s Restaurant,* the faint mumble of people chatting, the vague aroma of food – one could hear the sizzling with enough attention. ‘Interesting.’

“There’s no information available on the restaurant, master. It’s secretive and I assume, for high-end people.”

“Please, follow us,” a step inside showed a bar on which rested expensive drinks. The counter, inlaid with multiple drawings, was reminiscent of the style used at the Kreston churches. For being secretive, whilst walking beside a few tables, the people were very much expensively dressed. It was the definition of what one would imagine as being ‘upper-class’.

“éclair, scan all those people, I smell foul play.”

A double-door with guards arrived at the end of the walk across the floor. The curtains were shut; no way to see out and admire the greatness of being high. Instead, the décor opted for an introvert, almost seclusive approach. ‘Didn’t lady Gaso said they were low in the pecking order?’

“We’re here,” said the guide who paused.

“I suppose we part ways here,” nodding blankly, he entered the closed area.

Pillars wrapped with beautiful living flowers; a round chandelier in the middle, a private bar to the side. The table on which two people were sat, rested at the center after a few steps into the room. For some reason, it was built on a lower level than the rest of the room and barricaded by a pentagram of steps. Opposite the bar, cutting across the table, curtains were finally parted to allow the light of day.

“Mr. Haggard,” stood the both.

“Mr. Elix and Mr. Endo,” they exchanged handshakes.

Not that they would say it openly, him knowing the name had them on edge. Especially since no prior information was given.

“Would you like to order anything?” asked Elix with the gelled back hair, square glasses, and silver earrings. The face was sharp and very angular.

“What does the chef recommend,” smiled Staxius.

“I’ll call on him,” nodded Endo with his more fleshy and chubbier face.

A man in a white outfit came to give multiple explanations on the food. Quick to take in the information, Staxius ordered the ‘special’. As for drinks, “-Mr. Elix, forgive me if I’m wrong, isn’t that God’s ale?”

“Oh yes,” smiled he smugly, “-the highest grade. 20,000 Exa per bottle. Legality doesn’t affect us who are above the common folks.”

“Impressive,” said Staxius uninterested, ‘-you got scammed, it’s nothing more than blended alcohol.’

“Would you like some?” asked Endo holding an obnoxious smirk.

“No, I’d prefer to have Whiskey,” to which a waitress approached.

“Do you have Whiskey from Airy-Sel?”

“Airy-Sel,” inquired the bartender astonished. “I apologize for the outburst,” walked to stand at the table, “-Mr. Haggard, it’s rare to see anyone know the name Airy-Sel.”

“One must know those who are worthy of praise. The small brewery based in Sel has taken my pallet strongly. I very much enjoy each sip of their blend.”

“We sadly do not have Airy-Sel. Though, I’m happy to see influential people enjoying our blend.”

“Are you perhaps, Einstol?”

“How did you figure?”

“A hunch,” smiled Staxius ignoring the other two. A conversation with the bartender felt more interesting. “So, you are the maker of Airy-Sel.”

“Yes. I took on the formula from my father and created a new version.”

“Very interesting. What else do you recommend?”

“Derivu.”

“Another unfamed brand.”

On that, orders for food and drinks were given. What remained was the conversation.

“Mr. Haggard, as you know, we’re from the Patek Dynasty.”

“And?”

“We’ve come to make an offer.”

“About what?”

“An offer to purchase Meldorino.”

“Denied,” returned he, “-the company is now privately owned. Only I have a say in when people are to buy.”

“May I ask the reason why?” inquired Endo.

“Would you sell off thy child for profit? I suppose you would, people from the Patek’s have less than admirable reputation.”

“Mr. Haggard, you best not overstep the boundaries.”

“Could we stop this fa?ade already, what is the reason thee called?”

They stopped eating; the aura sunk into one of danger. “Suppose trickery isn’t going to work with you,” sighed Endo.

“Look at that, Assassins from Patek, what a lovely sight,” said so to mock they who had badly acted.

“You’ve walked straight into our trap, so much for being smart,” winked Endo spouting countless tentacles from his back. It sharped to catch the reflection of the outside sun.

“Mr. Haggard,” winked Elix,”-we’re not mere assassins,” guns came to his palm, “-we’re the angels of death.”

*Whoosh,* the walls cracked, “-angels of death?” snickered he savoring each bite.

Two figures crashed to leave an impact, “-w-who a-are y-you?” the words barely formed; they were strangled with utmost rage.

“How dare you point weapons at our master,” gritted Intherna, “-Gophy, are you going to kill them or should I?”

“May I have another drink poured?” asked Staxius nonchalantly to the bartender.

“R-right away,” scared beyond belief, the man went to fetch the drinks. The hands trembled but he made sure to not spill any stray droplets. The waitresses stood in a corner cowering at the sight.

“Y-You’ll p-pay f-for this.” *Boup,* the heavy sound of they falling ended as he sipped the last drink. “We’re finished here,” to which the ladies returned.

“Einstol, tell the leader that the meal was succulent. Next time, do a better job of disguising the assassination.”

“How as the meal, sir?” asked the pilot starting the engine.

“Breathtaking I’d say,” the metal-bird headed to Tale.

‘They must be desperate to try having me assassinated.’

*Warning: Unidentified Projectile detected.*

*AFR: Toggled,* the turret turned to shoot the incoming projectile. The culprit stood with a rocket-launcher. “Master, we have trouble.”

“Is that so?” the door slid.

“Sir, please hold on tightly, I’ll get us out of here.”

“No you won’t,” laughed he, “-they sent more than assassins,” carelessly staring back, a squad of fighters stood on the 20th floor. “Give me a second,” he leaped, wings sprouted, a single flap followed by him landing inside. The floor cracked on impact, and the people who fired a few moments ago laid beheaded in their own blood. “Adete, come out and feast.”

.....

The invitees earlier were nothing more than fighters in hiding. A search of their identity revealed so. Sat with one foot on the counter and the other on a stool, he watched as Adete devoured those who dared to strike.

*Calling Lady Gaso...*

“Hello?”

“Greetings Lady Gaso,” said he joyfully.

“Mr. Haggard, what do I owe this pleasure?”

“The rumors you heard about the Patek’s wanting to speak. I attended said meeting. I don’t suppose you know why they chose to attack. The elaborated plan to kill was nothing but the worst acting I’ve ever seen. Care to give me information on who was responsible?”

“Listen, I told what I heard through the grapevine. I’m not responsible.”

“Well then,” the phone hung. What laid before was a large hole and a hovering helicopter. The pilot was visibly scared of what was to come.

Thus, the assassination attempt ended in a slaughter. No bodies were found, the explosion was reported to the Public service. The emptiness and lack of evidence had shivers down the back. Especially Larson, the evidence was a hefty weight on his shoulders.

“Master, I’ve received an encrypted message for 02.”

“What does it say?”

“Cimier are going to have a meeting with the Jefferson’s in two days. Phantom’s involvement in Tale has had them act fast. They don’t want to be left behind. Only mediators will be attending the event.”

“Good. Take us to Tale, there’s planning to do.”