Ok, we definitely have enough characters by now. You guys can start, or I'll start if no one's started by the time I get home from school today. 

Name: Aloise Cerus

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Appearance: She is Latina, with skin that is a shade of tannish-brown and thick black hair usually left hanging down her back. She is usually forced to wear makeup and dresses but sometimes can sneak away with more casual clothes- jeans and a T-shirt. 

Personality: She is a tomboy not afraid to speak her mind. Bluntly honest. One of those people who is always willing to bend rules a bit for her needs and the needs of others. Untidy and sometimes careless. Kind in her own way(which is not by any means up to normal standards). She loves adventure and freedom of any kind, and has been looking for a way to escape Noventia since she was eight years old, maybe even younger.

Background: She is the second daughter of the Emporer of Noventia(if that is all right), and unlike her sister from the start. Maria was always satisfied with the promise of becoming Empress later in her life, but Aloise always wanted to escape Noventia and explore the Sky. When she was eight years old, she first looked over the wall after climbing from roof to roof of the city. She was entranced and has been plotting to escape. Finally, let's say two days before this story starts, she managed to escape, and the "disappearances" became too much for her father. He is sending out search parties all over the Sky, and Aloise sort of lives in hiding. She is on Spark when the story starts.

okey dokey, I guess I'll be starting this.

Oh, and there seems to be some confusion on the era this is supposed to be based on... To clarify, Noventia is meant to be like Rome (I know I said Greece, but Rome fits better in hindsight) with some industrial elements to it. Noventia and Jetsam both have industrial age technology while Spark has more medieval technology because they have magic so they don't need tech as much. Wildersky is more tribal and has the most primitive tech out of all of them.

With that out of the way...

Corilis~

I woke up chilled to the bone. This was a sure sign of any that winter is near. Or maybe it was just a sign that I was sleeping on rock.

I fell asleep in the observatory again. Most sane human beings would gladly take a nice warm bed in their own private cottage over a cold stone floor, but in my case, the payoff was well worth it. This was the time of year that the aurora came out and danced in the Heavens like iridescent serpents. I can't even tell you how many nights I'd spent in past years sitting crosslegged on the floor, and just staring up at them in the sky through the paned glass dome. That, or squinting into the the eyepiece of our giant telescope looking for my favorite constellations- which, consequently, where also visible in the winter. But the cosmos, as fascinating as they were, were not my favorite part of this season.

I slipped out of my sleeping bag, which I had slept in for so many consecutive nights that I'd stopped bothering to bring it back to my cottage, and immediately shivered violently. Yep, it was winter all right. I quickly put on my cape and hood, tried to straighten my hair a bit, and headed out.

As I hiked down from Mount Arjus, I could see in the distance the preparations for what made Spark so lively this time of year. The Solstice Festival. It's hard to explain how wild the Festival can get without having experienced it yourself, but let's just say there's a reason why Mount Arjus is a bit shorter than its twin.

If I squinted, I could see the master Windtracers in the valley performing the Istari Incantation, one of the most advanced spells a Windtracer can learn. You see, Spark doesn't and never did have any need for airships; and stooping to the level of the Reavers by hijacking trade vessels was out of the question. So, when you throw a party and invite the entire Upper Tier, there has to be some kind of transport solution. That's where the Istari Incantation, freezing the moolecules of water in the air into a solid bridge that can stretch for miles, comes into play. Already there were four complete bridges, stretching in all directions to the nearest villages, and the master Windtracers, the ones who had decided to stay in Spark after finishing their training, were working on the fifth. 

As I neared the town center, passing under the Headmaster's tower, I saw something else in the distance. Something I hadn't exactly expected to see. An airship on the horizon. Was today a delivery day? Noventia, as much as it despised our city, still kept up trade, but that was limited to one exchange of goods per month. And this month's exchange had already happened. So what could this be about?

Fueled by curiosity and the mild dread that always rested in the back of my mind, I jogged the rest of the way to the town center, exchanging quick 'good mornings' to people I met along the way. I finally made it to the docks, where a few Windtracer scouts, most of them younger than I, were stationed. 

"What's... that?" I asked breathlessly when I reached them, my hands on my knees. "Noventians?"

One of the younger scouts turned to me and shook her head. "No.  Reavers." She handed me her telescope which I looked through and found that, indeed, the airship's envelope had been painted electric blue, a sign that it belonged to the Reavers. I could still see some specks of Noventian scarlet peeking out, though. Sloppy painting job. If you're gonna steal an airship, at least do it right.

I gave the telescope back to the scout. I didn't particularly enjoy trading with the Reavers either, rowdy folks, but they showed up from time to time and  presented us with things that ended up being more interesting than useful. However, we and the Reavers did share a common enemy.

"What do you think they want?" I asked the scout.

"Guess we'll find out soon enough." 

(Terrence's age is 21, and he has blue eyes.) 

Terrence Whitlock-

The crew knew that Terrence could only be called Morningstar.

It was no accident that Terrence derived the name from a certain fallen angel, and no accident that His helmet for flying looked like some ungodly hybrid of a bird, a ram, and a glassy-eyed snake. The hatch bay opened with a hiss of hydraulics as he stepped out, a line of crewmen snapping to attention as he passed. His second in command, nicknamed Azazel, fell into line behind him, her scarab-like helm a garish orange with streaks of blue.

That was another rule. Everyone wore helmets, but only Morningstar wore one the color of his own eyes, the color of the portion of the sky just before it met the clouds obscuring Subtropos. A crowd of gawking Windtracers and Sparkanians spread out like citizens before a dragon.

Terrence reached into his cloak and pulled a map from its folds. It was folded lopsidedly, crumpled. He raised it to the crowd of onlookers, and the motion was punctuated by the hiss of hydrogen from his airship.

"I have guns," Terrence said, voice rich and commanding. There was an audible ripple of fear and whispers in the crowd. Terrence knew what they were thinking: why would a hijacked Noventia airship have guns on it unless Noventia were increasing their own armory?

"Noventia is, in all likelihood, planning a hostile takeover of every island in the Heavens. Plans intercepted by my Reconaissance Head Ba'al--" Terrence nodded a head toward the man dressed in a black helm shaped like a crow's head, streaks of blue limning its feathers. "--state that the city of Noventia is preparing to take Spark first."

The crowd is dubious. Azazel stepped forward.

"Lord Morningstar will impose martial law over Noventia to prevent this attack until a more suitable leader can be found. Now is the time to act," she barked.

Some Windtracers nodded their heads. Terrence smiled under his mask.

Noventia's reckoning was approaching fast. They simply needed a bargaining chip, something that would let their ships into the city. Aloise, daughter of the Emperor, would make a perfect ransom.

"First," Azazel said, pointing to the man who'd drawn the map, "The Reavers need a navigator."

The boy blanched. Terrence smirked.

"Come into my quarters immediately. We have an open position." Terrence opened his arms mockingly.

The boy wanted to protest, but Officers Ba'al and Lilith flanked both sides.

"I don't do mercenary jobs." he said. Terrence raised an eyebrow under the helm.

"I'm sure." Terrence said. Ba'al and Lilith began to "guide" the navigator-Corilis, that was his name-toward the ship.

"I don't!" he said, more insistently. Morningstar broke stride and spun around, staring Corilis down with a dark-eyed mask.

"You do." Morningstar whispered.

Corilis looked like he was going to protest. Terrence slowly leaned in.

Corilis paused, mouth open. "We're just... discussing?"

Terrence sighed. "Correct. I'm not just kidnapping you. I wouldn't kidnap someone who didn't deserve it, would I, Officers?"

"No." Azazel, Ba'al, and Lilith said in unison. Corilis looked the slightest bit shaken, fidgeting on his feet as though considering running.

Terrence walked up the ramp, the others trailing behind him. The hatch shut, crackling with a small pop of wayward magic.

There was a pause inside before Terrence started laughing. Corilis looked on, confused, as Terrence removed his helmet to reveal his oh-so-scary 21-year-old face.

"You're hardly older than-"

"Of course. I just seem older because I scare the steam out of people. My real name's Terrence." he said, extending a hand. "Now, what do you want? I'll have Bee-Bub make it. Tea? Coffee? Drinking chocolate? Bee, get the man some drinking chocolate!"

Corilis looked on, face slack, as a prefectly normal-looking blonde girl sat up from a chair, drunkenly, winked at Corilis, and set about making cocoa.

"Now, onto discussion!" Terrence said. 

I don't think I described Iesha's job very well. She's more of the leader of a giant widespread mafia organization. They run many of the criminal activities around the islands and a lot of them hide in government positions. Because of the corruption of the main government, they have had much success. Her organization is usually referred as the Jetsam Mafia, probably because that's where a lot of the activity is supposedly located at.

Iesha likes a job to be done well, so she hates to let someone else do it for her. She prefers doing it herself when she cans.

Also, I really hope Brookeira's post doesn't interfere with mine since it hasn't posted yet. I kinda need to go soon so I have to post this now.

* * *

Iesha blew smoke off the gun, looking around the room with quiet contempt. This had to be the time she wasn't carrying a silenced gun. Iesha sighed and calmly took his amulet from his body. Inspecting it, she realized with disdain that it was a fake. What a waste.

She could already hear hurried footsteps from the hallway. Iesha put a chair under the doorknob before she cautiously looked out the window. It was not a jump she could survive, that's for sure. Oh well. Straightening her ponytail and lifting the cuffs of her shirt up, she started muttering soft incantations under her breath. She hated to use magic--It's sloppy and usually leaves evidence-- But killing all of them would be even worse.

The papers around her started to fly off desks. As Iesha wondered why it was taking so long, the door in front of her break. They were trying to break it. Worriedly, she whispered the incantations again. What was happening? It's as if something is blocking her from getting out...

The magical barrier around the house. Of course. It's Spark for crying out loud. Iesha knew she wouldn't be able to chant herself out of this one. Abandoning the spell, Iesha desperately searched through the closets, trying to find any sort of secret passageway or exit.

The door was chipping away...

Iesha yanks out books from the bookshelf, feeling for a switch or at least a key.

A hole began to form...

Iesha looked under the desk, pulling out drawers frantically.

They were shooting through the hole at this point...

She finds a small wooden key in the 2nd to last drawer. Searching, she realized one of the bookshelves was scratched on the bottom as if pushed around a lot. She pushed it to the right and it revealed a locked door.

The door finally gave in. The Soldiers pushed through, aiming their guns straight at Iesha... Or at least, the place where Iesha had been. As they searched the room, they saw a bookshelf broken on the floor, and an open door leading into a crawling maze of stone walls. Iesha's echoing footsteps were already inaudible. 

She would later get on her ship, and tell one of her inferiors to still go on with the mission. A few days later, the largest library in the Sky -- The Noventia Government Library -- would be burnt to a crisp and practically all of the books would be sold to independent collectors. Iesha Merl. The biggest boss in the entire Sky.

Orson Kyo, 20 (Noventia)~

The Moon Bird looks down on the human city,

Longing to play and laugh with the people who seemed so content

Staying on the ground. 

The boy looks up to the Moon Bird,

Longing to fly where the air is free of dread and judgement,

And far, far away from the people who were far too selfish to love.

The Moon Bi-

"Hey, Orson!"

I jump at the sudden intrusion of my peace, and fumble my parchment. The poem flutters into the water, shrivels into a husk, and floats away. I scramble to reach for what's left of my work, but it's already too far away.

"Cadia, could you please be less startling next time?" I say, holding back my frustration, as I turn to face the intuder. Cadia Dolvengarde, just a couple of years older than me, has been the Kyo household's live-in housekeeper for more than a year now.

"Well, it's not my fault you choose to write in the garden, under the one tree that's next to the pond," Cadia argues without hesitating. She runs over to a patch of trees near the southwest corner of the garden, waving her hands flamboyantly like she's trying to sell them to me. "Look at all these trees, mister! Prefectly nice trees, no? Why don't you write under these trees instead? Much higher quality!" Cadia continues jokingly, talking in an outlandish accent.

"Alright, alright. I get it. But I worked on that poem all morning, and-"

"Orson," Cadia interrupts, strolling back up to me. "I think what you have to worry about right now is your hair, it looks like a dead bush." I reach up to feel my hair, embarrassed. Was it really that bad? I search for a hair tie in my bag, but she interjects yet again.

"Here, I'll do it." Cadia steps behind me and starts to pull my hair into a bun. I don't protest, but I still scowl, annoyed that Cadia is so much less serious about my writing than I am.

"So did you come out me just to make fun of my hair?" I ask her. Cadia laughs.

"I would, but your father actually wanted to speak with you," She replies.

"Is it about The Garrison?" I ask again.

"When is it not about the Garrison?" Cadia answers, struggling on a particular tuft of my hair. I sigh, she's not wrong there. "But this time it seemed like it was serious or something." I tense up.

"Serious? Serious how?" I question nervously.

"It's like a secret he wanted to tell you. I dunno, he said something about a plan and the Garrison, and it seemed important," she explains. I start to worry about all the things it could be, but my thoughts are cut short by a ribbon tied tight around my hair.

"There, ready for battle!" Cadia exclaims jokingly. She steps back, proud of her work. I hastily stand up and start towards the side door of the house. Cadia extends an arm to stop me.

"Listen, there's nothing to worry about, alright?" That only makes me worry more. I respond with a nod and hurry into the house. Serious? I knew it was the Garrison and all, "Defend the honor of Noventia", stuff like that. But, had my father ever talked to me about something truly serious before? 

Whoa, I really like Terrence. Sorry if I fail at emulating his personality. Alright, here goes...

Corilis~

Morningstar. I'd certainly heard of the man, him being an alumni of the Academy and all. In fact, he had quite the infamy around here. But I never thought this would be how I'd meet him.

And I never thought I'd be standing up to him. 

"No."

"What was that?"

"No." I tried to make my voice as steady as possible, but it still came out shaky. "Wherever it is you want me to go, I'm not going there."

Terrence folded his hands on the table. "I'm not sure you quite understand your circumstances, Corilis." 

"It's Co-RI-lis," I said. "You're putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable." 

Terrence's face twisted into a grin of disbelief. He looked at my map, my name printed in the corner, 'Spark Standardized Map of the Sky: Courtesy of Corilis Asterlon'  A name that so many people had read, but very few knew the face of.

"Oh, don't tell me," he said. He turned to his subordinates in the back of the room. "Have I been saying his name wrong this whole time? Why didn't anyone speak up?" They looked at one another, not sure how to respond.

"No matter," Terrence said, turning back to me. "The point is, Corilis," he overemphasized the correct syllable this time, "We're on the brink of war. A war the likes of which has not been seen for a long, long time. I know that you know Noventia like the back of your hand. If I've heard anything from the Tracers flying into Jetsam recently, it's that, if there's a secret passage, you know it. And to refuse the call to action for something bigger than you, bigger than me... a smidge selfish, don't you think?"

The blonde girl brought me a cup of hot chocolate and set it on the table. I didn't touch it. 

"It's not selfish to not want to become a martyr," I countered. "You know I haven't actually been to Noventia. All those details? On my map? They're just based on reports, rumors, and the Sky's largest telescope. I wouldn't last a day out there and you know it."

Terrence folded his hands and gave me a death stare. I'd be a liar if I said he wansn't one of the most intimidating people I've met. "You're going to have to last," he snarled. A lump formed in my throat when I heard the sound of weapons being brandished behind me.

I took a deep breath. I knew things were never going to blow over well if I refused. So I decided to make a promise I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep. I raised my hands defensively. "Alright. Alright. I'll... I'll do it. On one condition."

Terrence leaned forward, and put his chin in his hands, smirking. "And what might that be?"

"We wait until the Solstice Festival is over."

Terrence's grin vanished. "Oh, the Festival. Now I remember why I left this wretched city. You Sparkies never change, do you? Well, in case you didn't notice," Terrence stood up, now visibly angry. "When all you idiots are gathered in one place drinking and singing and doing anything but looking out for trouble, that's the perfect time to attack. Anyone with half a brain could tell you that Noventia is going to attack during the Festival on purpose. It's the element of surprise. It's basic strategy. We need to leave now." At the last word, he slammed his fist on the table.

I don't know what possessed me at that moment, but I stood up too, just as quickly. The hands of the subordinates in the room shot to their weapons, but Terrence raised his palm towards them, not taking his eyes off of me. "Let him speak."

I gulped before tentatively talking again, my little burst of confidence almost gone already."Then... then what are we fighting for, huh? If we aren't fighting for our right to have festivals, to live our own lives, then what are we fighting for? I wouldn't expect someone from Jetsam to respect the importance of tradition, but here in Spark, we do. And, in case you didn't know, I came here to get away from Noventians." I touched my scar.

Terrence didn't bat an eye. "Are you finished?"

I sighed. This guy just didn't give up, did he?" "Look, if you really want my help, there's no reason why you couldn't just play defensive for a bit. You call in a few more of your ships, station them around Spark, take care of any Noventians that show up, the Festival goes on, and when it's over we head down to the capital and finish the job. Everyone wins."

"That'd be brute forcing our way through," Terrence said. "I don't do brute force. I do strategy. Brute force can't beat the entire Noventian fleet." 

"Well, maybe you could use your strategy to remember that this is a city of Windtracers. If the element of surprise was really the only weapon Noventia had against us, then you got rid of it the moment you told everyone about their plans. You see that?" I pointed out the porthole at one of the ice bridges. "Imagine what that could do if it was a weapon. A few well placed guards during the festival, and we'll be fine. Heck, an ice projectile or two could sink the ship we're on right now. In fact, I'm surprised that hasn't happened yet."

As if on cue, there was a flurry of shouts and thumping noises from outside. The ship suddenly rocked violently. My mug of untouched chocolate slid off the table and shattered.

Terrence cursed, quickly putting his helmet back on and running out the hatch, closely followed by his subordinates. I brought up the rear, smiling to myself.

When we got outside, half a dozen Reavers were on the ground dazed. The entire ship had been frozen to the dock, Spikes of ice encasing the side of it. Terrence opened his mouth to yell something, but the air caught in his throat when he saw the man standing directly opposite him.

Standing in the dead center of the parted crowd, he wore a pitch black overcoat that went down to his knees, fringed with light-brown wolf fur. A simple purple scarf was wrapped around his neck, and the flower of a single crocus was pinned to his shirt. In one of his hands was an ornate cane, intracately carved with an amethyst gem embedded in the handle. In the other was a small thermos. He stood studying Terrence, looking like any other aging man, as if he had not been performing advanced magic just a few moments earlier. His unwavering eyes, steel grey, were not unkind- just experienced, and his lightly creased face radiated wisdom. His silver hair, medium length and combed back, blew slightly in the wind. He was the winged wolf. The North wind. Among other names. The Headmaster of Spark Academy. Nix Galligan.

Galligan thoughtfully scratched the stubble on his chin and took a sip of coffee. "Top of the morning, Mr. Whitlock. Care to explain yourself?"

Evelyn~

Mara and I were scouting when the ship landed.

Scout duty was the most hated task for anyone training to be a windtracer, especially so near the Sositice Festival, even though it would only last for about an hour. Almost all airships that arrived were expected tradeships, and the occasional surprise usually turned out to be a ship that had been set off course. But there were very occasionally surprises.

Today was one of them.

One of the mapmakers arrived while me and Mara, and the other scouts were watching the oncoming ship, a ship belonging to Reavers.

"What's... that?" Corilis- that was his name, wasn't it?- asked. "Noventians?"

"No. Reavers," I said, handing him my telescope. After looking for a moment, he handed it back to me. 

"What do you think they want?" He asked.

"I guess we'll find out," I replied. 

And once the ship had docked, we did. A man stepped out, his blue helmet the color of the a cloudless morning sky. And what he said was even more frightening. I turned to Mara.

"Somebody should go get the Headmaster." She said, her eyes wide with worry. I nodded, and we duck through the crowd unnoticed, then began running once we've turned the curve, accelerating our speed with a Celeritas spell. And in no time, we've reached the famed Nix Galligan.

"Reavers-bringing news of an attack- on Spark- no time to lose- took Corilis on board-" I gasp, struggling to suck in air. The Headmaster is not one for running. He waves his hand, and whatever spell he was working on instantly fades. And then he walks- a brisk walk, but a walk nonetheless. Perhaps he is feared for his unwavering calm, an almost deadly calm.

We stay back while he walks through the crowd, people parting for him. He reahes the front just as the Morningstar and Corilis exit. "Top of the morning, Mr. Whitlock. Care to explain yourself?"

Terrence-

17 years ago, when Terrence was three:

Noventia has an underclass.

It's somewhere between the upperclass and lowerclass: poor as the man who drives the ox-cart, with the name of a rich and lengthy family strapped to the back like a dead mule. Terrence didn't ever learn that until he was older, but he knew something was wrong when his parents sold all of the shiny things in the house and cried every night when they thought he was in his bed. 

The cake was small, but fluffy: his father's hidden talent was baking. His father and mother had smiled as he giggled, cake smearing over his face.

Then someone had knocked on the door and Mommy had opened it and it was a man in a very nice shirt and Mommy started to curtsy but then she was coughing and there was red everywhere and the man in the nice shirt had a knife and he went up to Dad--

"Watch this, little boy," the man had said, smiling at him with patronizing eyes, "watch what happens to people who say mean things about the Emperor!" 

And there was red and a bang and Dad wasn't moving any more and then Terrence ran really really fast and then he climbed into a ship and ran and ran and fell down in a gutter one day and a nice nice man in purple had picked him up and smiled and said his eyes were good for magic...

Memories of young children are blurry, rushed things, aren't they?

Terrence, now-

The man was handsome as ever, wind sweeping through his hair, eyes like gunmetal in his face. He smiled humourlessly as Terrence kicked up, pulling a ripcord. The bundle of dirty canvas on his back unfolded into two batlike wings as a few in the crowd screamed. Terrence sent up a wave of scattered ice as he flew straight to where Nix Galligan stood, dropping into the snow. Sure, he could have just used his Windspark the whole way, but this was easier. And faster, he noted, smirking as Nix looked just the slightest bit impressed.

"Care to explain myself? Funny, I think you should explain why you've welded my ship to your dock." Terrence said, crossing his arms. His cloak shifted around him. A hydraulic in his mask clicked. His wings folded quickly back into their position.

"You first. You know that this is out of line, even for you." Nix said.

"I won't explain what's obvious. And no, you most certainly don't know what I'm capable of." the crowd didn't hear the last part. Terrence had dropped his voice. No use making them all flip out.

"You were very capable, as a student," Nix remarked, "talented. I remember we were friends, once. And I do know you, Terrence. I've known you since you were four."

"You weren't in my head."

"Your emotions were written on your sleeve, then."

"They weren't."

"You remember when you were eight, don't you? You wrote me a Valentine's Day card." Nix said, just loudly enough for Terrence to hear, a grin quirking his lips.

"I swear to god, half of my crew has a clear shot." Terrence said, face red under the mask.

"You've taken someone." Nix remarked, calm as ever. Terrence beckoned backward. He heard a yelp as Ba'al pulled Corilis (co-RI-lis, Terrence noted, before hushing that part of his mind). 

"Oh, really? Goodness, I'd nearly forgotten," Terrence replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He put a hand on Corilis' shoulder.

"This man's coming with me. He'll be returned safe. Now could you please unfreeze us?" Terrence was growing impatient.

"I'm not coming with you." Corilis said. Terrence turned toward him.

Nix raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't sound like he wants to go."

Terrence scowled under his mask, yet schooled his voice into a cheery tone. "Alright, Co-RI-lis! Why don't you explain to Mister Galligan your genius idea, why the school's safe from Noventia!"

Corilis gave Terrence a look before, haltingly, explaining that blah, blah, blah, ice and wind magic, blah blah blah, machinery is no match for the windspark.

Terrence nodded. "Thank you, Navigator Corilis! And now..."

Terrence turned to the ship and barked out a message.

"Dante! Drake, port, fifteenth and sixth!"

A woman in a lynx-like mask saluted him and climbed into the hatch. Terrence turned back to Nix.

"You sit here in your rustic little villas ignoring the other islands, isolated as a rock in a raging river. You sit here with your wind and ice magic, never wondering whether there are other elements to be tamed. Technology can tame them."

Corilis took a step back. Ba'al kept him firm.

"You think:'my, that was easy, what was Terrence thinking, bringing the weakest of Noventian ships? Let's all go grab lunch, he's such a nearsighted man!'"

Shouts came from the crowd who backed up, watching as the airship's sides pulsed with yellow light.

"Welcome to the real world, Nix." Terrence said.

A line of yellow flame screamed out of the side of the airship, obliterating the ice completely. Nix blanched white as the flames roared, devouring a nearby ice bridge in a matter of seconds. A group of Windtracers tried desperately to repair it, only to be nearly scorched before Nix stretched out a hand and pulled them back with desperate wind.

"Welcome to Noventia's weakest warship!" Terrence whispered, "Care to meet one of the stronger ones?"

Orson~

My mind was racing with possibilities. Cadia said what- a plan? Was that right? A plan for what? Was the good or bad? How serious was serious?

I take a deep breath. Calm down Orson. You need to stop overthinking everything. Overanalyzation was not the ideal trait of a soldier. Regular analyzation, maybe. That might've been what got me ahead of everybody in my Garrison squadron. 

I close the garden door behind me and climb the stairs to my father's study. I stop halfway up and think. What if this was the wrong thing to do? I've always been a blank slate, yeah, but now I'm really conflicted. The Garrison has always been just an option for me. Well, probably more than that, but if this plan might mean dedicating my life to some military plan my father has set out for me? I shudder at the idea.

No, he wouldn't do that. He's not controlling. He's- passionate. Patriotic, that was the word. Oh, if there was ever one word to describe my father. I arrive at the landing in front of my father's study. I take a deep breath, and knock. 

After a few muffled foot steps towards the door, it opens to my father- beaming? He wraps me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground an inch or so.

"Oh, my son, you've put on quite the bit of weight," he chuckles. I stare back- almost in awe of my father. Had I ever seen him so excited for anything? I'm so suprised, I must have looked taken aback by the weight comment. "In pure muscle of course," my father jokes, escorting me into the study and closing the door.

"Y-you wanted to talk to me about something?" I stammer, still bewildered by my father's attitude.

"Oh, yes! I almost forgot!" My father-Kohaku as he's better known, takes a seat, and motions for me to do the same. He takes a few seconds of hesitation, and speaks.

"Orson, you know how well you've been performing in physical and mental tests, correct?" My father inquires in a new, oddly serious tone. I think for a moment.

"Father, if you need me to go on another scouting mission, you don't need to ask. It's really not an issu-" I respond, only to be cut off by my father.

"This is bigger than that, son. Somebody very important wants to speak with you," He explains.

"You mean the General?" I assume, thinking back to the one other time when I met the General. General Tygellus, commander of the Noventian fleet, second only to the Emperor himself. I remember him vaguely from long ago- 4 years ago? He presented me with the Novention Junior Garrison Award for Excellence, or something along those lines, after I graduated from the Noventian military training camp.  He was the first who came to mind, but even so, I couldn't think of any obvious reason he would want to see me in particular.

"No," My father said calmly, "Emperor Cerus."

It took a while for me to process. "Are you messing around with me?" I asked in disbelief. My father smiled and shook his head.

"He has a very critical mission, and it's extremely confidential, so Emperor Cerus chose only a handful of elite and dependable soldiers- you're included in that handful, Orson," I didn't know what to say.

"He's meeting all of you soon, so you'd best get ready. We'll meet at the palace gates in no more than half an hour," my father finished, standing from his seat to stretch. He walks to open the door, then looks back at me and grins. "I'll give you a minute."