[Flashback] Clockwork Universe

[Viola]

The 'Viola flashback thread'.

Age: 231 years.

The castle air was cold, still. Moonlight beamed down upon the high balcony and into the open room, bleeding with the fires from below as they dispersed through the gaps in the stone ledge. No clouds sat in the sky, yet few stars were visible that night. Light shone from the raging inferno below, polluting that air in tandem with long grey puffs of smoke, leaving but a small crack above the river untouched, never able to taint the silvery celestial orb.

A shout echoed through the tiled floor, muffled, yet the violent intentions were clear even if the words were not. Two floors down. Perhaps only one. Viola remained tense, observing attentively with every sense she had available. Her feet felt the small tremors through the ground, each gradually increasing in size and volume. Thin wisps of burnt wood - or even flesh - met her fine nostrils with every little breath. She could almost taste it. 

Mismatched eyes stared down the barred oaken door. Waiting. Keeping a frail arm cast out to the side to protect her charge and prevent the girl from doing anything rash, she could sense magic swelling behind her, thick and viscous. In fear or anger, the strength of the princess fizzled to the surface. She was barely an adept. Nothing against a trained mage. She was destined to rule. Viola was tasked with protecting her, masquerading as a friend or distant relative. After all, who would expect a little girl to be the real powerhouse of the duo? Her two guards were just for show.

Rachael was fierce. The reality of the situation was not lost on her near-adult mind. Servants. Soldiers. Bakers. Tailors. Blacksmiths. Innocents. The old lady who had given her flowers by the side of the road. The dirty boy who had swept dust and autumn leaves off the pavement to clear her path. The couple who worked at the large tavern she'd waved to on the way to the castle. The maid who had shown her around the castle. All dead. She scowled, then shivered, her teary eyes glossing over two corpses by the side of the room - near a broken lever.

One traitor, and one victim.

More screams ricocheted through the halls, followed by another splintering crack and a stampede of stomps. One door, five soldiers, two royal guards, and Viola. That was all that stood between her and her demise.

"Hold your position." Crystal clear. Viola's gentle voice flowed over the cacophony that sprung from the approaching chaos; its unique - yet constant - pitch distinguished it from the other dissonance, letting her order reach the soldier's ears. Both the royal guards nodded, accepting of her authority; each brandished a halberd. The pointed tips were held high, positioned to skewer the heart of an unlucky foe. The other soldiers, all of which were positioned by the door and protected only with their more decorative lightweight arming swords, spared a glance at each other. A small chorus of 'ayes' followed, out of sync but not lacking enthusiasm. One last stand.

With a crack and fizzle, four cerulean blades hissed into existence, swirling by Viola's side. She gritted her teeth, aggressively pointing all four floating swords at the door. Not today.

Thud.

Rachael jumped, almost letting out a small squeak. Waves rippled through her long golden hair.

Thud.

Viola stepped back, calmly reaching out to the side and curling her small fingers around the princess's sweaty palm. Tugging gently, she tilted her head to the side, making eye contact with the taller girl. "Breathe," she assured, "stay with me."

Thud-creeeeak.

The wood buckled under the strain, splinters exploded into the small hall, mixing with the faint smoke and casting patchy shadows over the floor. Two soldiers stepped forward, struggling and grunting to share the burden with the thick oak bar.

Crack.

The central panel ruptured, a thick metal-tipped log was thrust through the gap and quickly pulled back a moment later, only to slam back into the thick door slightly lower down. Phantasmal orange waves shook through the air, focused through the hole. An explosion of magical energy spawned from battering ram.

Mages.

Enchantments never lasted long, so one had to be close by.

Reaching out with her mind, Viola scanned the mana residue, taking it in. Absorbing it. Reading it. Tasting it with her mind's eye. She knew that signature...

Kra-kow.

Another thunderous strike, smashing the door off its hinges and tearing the bar clamps from the wall. Time seemed to flow in slow-motion as the shattered hardwood tipped, arcing down to the floor. Before it could land, one of the allied swordsmen roared, sprinting into the breach. Steel pierced the throat of an unexpecting foe, then tore out to the side spraying a vivid brushing of blood, like an artist attacking a canvass. Slightly more prepared, the next opponent parried a strike with a loud clang and kicked out. The allied troop stepped to the side, then swivelled his blade to stab down, cleaving into a flap of flesh in the enemy's shin.

... Only for an axehead to snap through his neck. 

Shouting, two allied soldiers filled the gap their friend left, slashing in a wild frenzy. The action brought them some space while the frontal enemies dragged their wounded man back. For a moment, the forces stared at each other. 

Rachael squeezed Viola's hand tightly. Her mouth opened, letting out a faint cry before she looked down at her friend. Her eyes hardened with fleeting resolve. Without a moment's thought, Viola's swords shot past the friendly soldiers, weaving overhead and piercing through the front of the enemy ranks. Bodies fell to the ground, slowly piling up as the razor-sharp aether-blades spun, turning the hall into a blender and making the enemies look like paper mache. Yet, more filled their place within seconds, crossbow bolts fired from further back to support. Two more allies fell from the first volley, with one of the bolts almost reaching Rachael. With a silent grunt, Viola had torn the steel-tipped spike from the air with her magic, casting it over the balcony.

During her dip in focus, two heavily armoured beasts ploughed past their comrades, hulking in stature. Each armed with a steel shield, the punched into Viola's blades, shattering with a mere bash to the handles. Her swords bounced off them as if the blades were made of rubber. Left out of the combat for precious seconds, the last of the allied garrison fell, trampled, beaten, smashed down into the quaking cracked ground with unnatural force.

Wordlessly, Viola turned around and ran, dragging Rachael with her to the balcony.

Valiantly, the royal guard fought back, slowly retreating to join their liege before holding their position by a set of two steps, using the raised position and narrower entrance to their advantage. 

A blue runic circle appeared beneath one of the monstrous men, instantly exploding with small fragments of rock and disintegrating the floor beneath him. He fell, unfortunately standing just on top of the overhang. There was no surviving that fall.

Meanwhile, the halberdiers thrust at the other, using the focused explosion of magic to catch him off guard. The armour was thick, but one point stabbed through the beast's shoulder, finding a small gap in the steel sheets. He grunted, then stumbled to the side to join his ally down below after a small wave of magic shoved him to the side.

Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty-five. Men flooded into the tower summit.

Whoever the aggressors were, they weren't sparing any expense. Near fanatic in determination. All to assassinate an heir to the throne, Viola assumed.

"Lend me your magic." Viola didn't leave any more warning, or ask for confirmation, although Rachael didn't resist. Gushing like a waterfall, her mana flowed straight through Viola's veins, willingly fueling her with everything the princess could muster. Power welled at the stronger mage's fingertips, distracting her from the clashing of steel, and then the tearing of flesh, as she weaved her spell.

Both guards fell from numerous wounds, unable to hold back the tide, leaving both girls exposed and vulnerable to the enemy force. Coughing and sputtering out clumps of blood, a barely-conscious guard scrambled and clawed, desperately obstructing their murderers as best as he could.

It was too little. Too weak. They never stood a chance.

Swords and axes swung forward, closing in, millimetres from Viola's unmoving flesh-

[Viola]

Direct continuation from my last post. (Age: 231 years)

Reality shattered, a vibrant wave of blue swept through the tower, encompassing all and reaching high up into the heavens. Steel corroded, flaking away in a passing breeze. Stone crumbled, and clumps of rot crawled through wood like infinitely fast little bugs. Flesh died, shrivelling to the bone before that too turned to dust.

Viola tugged, pulling the taller girl into a hug, and looking away from the carnage she wrought. Thousands and thousands of years passed in an instant, yet perceptions of time remained unchanged allowing it all to pass in a few blinks of the eye. She'd never forget that sight. The young turning old, wrinkling before disintegrating in the breeze, always reminding her of the one thing she never had. Could one truly be considered living without death? Desperately hoping she had her magic under control, Viola squeezed as tightly as she could manage, afraid Rachael would wither away in her arms. Even as the floor gave out beneath them both, bringing them into a sharp plummet, her grip didn't relinquish until the princess returned it, screaming.

The fall brought a sudden sobriety to Rachael's magically drained mind before immediately being engulfed by a wave of panic.

Like a tsunami, the magic stretched out beneath them, crashing through the city and rending it all to rubble, and then nothing. Bricks from the tower deteriorated before they could touch the ground, while all the fire and smoke simply evaporated, swept away, almost leaving the clear night's sky entirely dark and empty if not for the crescent moon and twinkling stars.

Trees and shrubbery grew and died, only to be replaced with more, that in turn repeated the process. Even little hills and deformities in the land grew and morphed, the very dirt churning beneath the ground. The river swerved, rushing violently away from its pristine calm curves to that of a wiggling snake, arcing through the newly grown hills, wider, and with little floodplains and a small marsh near one of the flatter bends. Almost as far as the eye could see, a forest spread through the previously cultivated land, shifting rapidly but eventually gaining control before finally dying off some miles away.

Panting and gasping for breath against the rush of air, Viola's magic flared again, although much more softly. She released Rachael as they spiralled during their weightless plunge, although the girl had returned with her own grip, much more crushing in strength. Working as best as she could, her magic wrapped around them both as they reached the treetops. Forces pushed against them sharply, stabilising their decline while a lilac bubble formed around them.

Coughing, panting, and spluttering, the duo hit the floor with a much more gentle thud, followed by the bubble popping silently. Rachael landed on her feet, shaking, yet able to stay standing. Viola would have fallen if not for the taller girl holding her firmly enough to carry her.

Awestruck, the princess eventually lowered Viola to the ground, then span around, admiring the new scenery. Tallgrass squashed under her feet, reaching half-way up to her knees. Big oak trees surrounded them, with many white flowers blooming underneath where they could get their share of light. Their colours blended with the silvery rays of the moon. Peaceful, tranquil. As if it was a completely new world from the one that suffered the combat prior. "How- wh- what did you do?"

Viola didn't say anything, letting the situation speak for itself. It was common knowledge that she knew basic time magic. That she'd gone further and found other natural abilities was a more secretive fact. The princess likely couldn't grasp the sheer magnitude of the spell. Under normal circumstances, she would have been dead, only by using her magic and directing all her willpower had Viola been able to stop the faux-time taking its toll.

"It's all gone. The city. The castle. The tower. And all of them. H-how? How can you do so much?" With mostly silhouettes contrasted with moonlight to go by, Rachael had a hard time seeing the new land in much detail. The small groups of flowers were like beacons, illuminated through the gaps in the trees like second moons.

"Time." A simple answer. Time healed everything. Mended everything. Destroyed everything. She had little else to say. It was the world's most precious resource and the creator of all. 

Seizing the opportunity, Viola followed up with another comment, knowing how to influence her charge. "I can answer questions on the way. You need to get home."

"I don't know the way... It's dark, and I'm safe with you. Can't we camp out in the... forest." Rachael's eyebrows furrowed.

"No." Cold and plain. Using the shadows as cover, Viola was able to clasp Rachael's hand before she could accidentally stray further in her little exploration - not that it would have mattered if the princess actually wanted to force herself away from the small mage. "It's still dangerous." She'd sensed a familiar magical signature before, one that may have survived. It wouldn't be the first time. "Eldurhest is ten miles east. I can use the stars. The town has a guard outpost."

"Oh-oh! The one with Sir Laurence?"

"...yes." Viola shook her head, sighing.

Humming, the princess looked up for a moment, then clenched her bodyguard's hand and practically dragged her through the foliage, filled with a sudden burst of vigour. Viola's body was limp, simply letting it happen.

"I said east, not west."

"R-right!"

[Viola]

Age: 474 years

The ornate oaken doors swerved open, revealing the large hall. Sandstone pillars supported the arched roof, with rows of guards acting like a wall joining them together. Viola took a deep breath and stepped forward onto the velvet red carpet. It had been smoothed down and was either well maintained or placed there just before her arrival. While the poorly tiled floor was sandy, the path provided for her was pristine.

It was a better welcome than she had expected.

"Ambassador," a brash voice with a notable tone of nobility called out to her. The speaker was tanned, but his facial features signified he clearly didn't come from the same land as his men. His chin was pointed, and bushy black eyebrows sat almost horizontal on his unblemished face, the edges of which were slightly thicker leading to them looking like a shallow upsidedown trough. The man's other features were sleek and refined, with slender toned arms and a pair of small ears plastered close to his skull. Two chains jangled, adding weight to his words in conjunction with the large jewelled golden crown on his head.

Cold black steel connected each of his hands to the neck of a kneeling, barely-clothed, woman on either side. Notable red lashings were visible on their arms and centre chest, with one sporting a black eye that looked to be covered up with makeup. While their eyes wavered, both were silent, backs straight, and heads held high.

Their king shifted, the irregular swaying of the swinging chains threatening to disrupt their pose. He leaned forward on his golden throne, hooking one of the chains onto the armrest so that he could lay his chin upon his palm. He was clean-shaven, yet gently pinched his lower cheeks none the less, sliding his pointed fingers over the smooth skin. His nails were long, yet they never quite touched his face.

"I suppose, you have come to negotiate terms of surrender," he scoffed.

Viola continued to walk forward, her hard shoes tapping softly on the carpet. Dull eyes and a blank face. Two long tails of hair swung back and forth beside her, like pendulums. They resonated weakly with her pace, the tips curling up and swirling more chaotically.

"And who do they send to do it? A child. They sent a little girl - not even of nobility - to talk to me. I have half a mind to send her head back to... what do you call yourselves now? The Alliance? Yes... I think sending them your head in a nice wooden box would make quite the gift." He straightened his back, twirling his wrist.

Staring blankly, Viola stopped. Two guards crossed their primitive spears in front of her chest, keeping her a fair distance away from their king. Far enough to strike down a grown man with a sword before he could reach their ruler.

The moment the cloth-covered wooden staffs brushed together, the king threw back his head with such vigour that is seemed impossible that his crown would stay on his head. Hearty laughter escaped his lips. Viola caught a brief glimpse of his body flinching, whereby the chains were yanked shortly after. Steadily, both the guards and his slaves chuckled nervously.

"Ah ha ha... Where are my manners? It would be awfully rude to do such a thing without at least hearing you out first." His wrists twisted, inciting silence. "Perhaps," he curled a hand towards Viola, "you have something to offer?"

"Peace." Viola's lips parted clearly, although her near-mute voice was almost lost in the open space. The echoes of the ruler's almost masked her own.

"Oh? But I was rather enjoying this little war between us. How are the folks at Vassily, by the way? I hear your rulers hold the claim for those lands now. I'm sure you'd be delighted to know that Dragon's Point has a very diligent workforce. They just needed a little persuading..." He clicked his fingers. "Perhaps, little girl, you might be able to persuade me. I'd hope you're not dumb and mute."

She said nothing, holding his gaze despite the harshness. It almost felt as if his blood-red were boiling her skin. Fitting for the desert king. A stained window sat behind him, focusing the sun towards her weak flesh. She had magical charms to prevent burns from the sun, but that did nothing to protect her from the heat.

"Let me give you a little hint," he spoke condescendingly. "I have an army." His men stomped the butts of their spears onto the floor, kicking up some wisps of dust. "I have power." He curled his wrist, small scarlet flames swirling around his fingertips. "I have wealth. But-"

Weak. He was weak. Barely an inkling of mana sat beneath the quasi-mage's skin. Perhaps, he might have been stronger than many trained sorcerers. Proficient. Skilled. But even he couldn't touch her. Viola released the breath she'd forgotten her lungs were holding, allowing her own magic to once again flow naturally beneath her veins.

"-there are always places in my comp-" He hesitated, eyes widening. Intense shudders coursed through his bones. Fear.

With barely a moment's thought, Viola shattered his skull.

[Viola]

Age: 474 (part 2)

Ripples spread through the king's skeleton, his own passive magics nothing compared to the child before him. Like a hollow gelatin shell, his skull compacted, falling in on itself with such force that smaller fragments of gore and muck sprayed outwards with such force that some painted the walls of the hall. His brain squelched, oozing through the cracks in his cranium like mincemeat. Speckles of blood floated in the air between his corpse and the ageless mage, emulsified in the small translucent patches of blue magic that caught them before they could tarnish her appearance.

The limp body slouched back onto the throne, and all at once the floating lifeblood fell, landing with a rapid series of pitter-patters. Viola spun, her two long tails of hair twirled gently around her as if tempted to form a cocoon. Two cold magical swords fizzled behind her back, initially crossed in an X before carving outwards, one swinging to each side like a pair of scissors decapitating an invisible head. They spiralled and pivoted, moving like invisible wings as each handle remained in place relative to her shoulder blades.

With a hot burning snap, they arched backwards, snapping off the tips of two threatening spears in perfect sync. Meanwhile, two more aetherblades materialised in front of the mage, held parallel yet asymmetrically. One with a handle on the left side was held above the other, each facing opposite directions. 

Viola walked towards her shadow, the sun setting behind her, its rays shining through the colourful window and onto her like a spotlight, leaving its dead king in the shadows beneath it. Blue water-like ripples shone in columns around her dark orange silhouette, curving in time with her blades.

The guards faltered, but a stuttering foreign yell that soon broke into a more aggressive cry pushed them into motion. The duo Viola had previously disarmed glanced at each other, before drawing a short sword - much closer to a dagger in their hands - from their boots. Whistling arrows shot from the sides of the room, following shallow parabolic trajectories with little fear for the bulk of their own men. Yet, due to the step-like benches each of them used, they were able to get a clear angle at their target, despite her being much shorter than the forces in their way. Eleven twanks had rung out, no synchronicity between as each had tried to be the first to fire a shot. The elite.

Light shimmered, and Viola took a step forwards impossibly fast. Nothing like a dash or hop, just a normal step. Time had bent around her in the brief moment. The arrows, missing her completely, pierced into the ranks on either side of her former position, slaying three of their own men and wounding two more. A twelveth archer lowered his bow before drawing two curved scimitars and barging his way through the barely-moving forces.

By the time Viola had made her fourth step, the spearmen had closed in from the front, the long ranks coalescing into a mob blocking her path.

"Disperse."

A dead word escaped her mouth, as she neither grimaced nor grinned, face cold and emotionless. Her eyes were glazed over, appearing unfocused to the soldiers as her irises looked solely towards the door she couldn't see behind them. 

The men weren't stupid. None charged as her swords gently clinked together, dancing by her sides and breaking formation based on her analysis of her opponents. Her body clocked at one speed, but her mind ticked at another. They stood in a three-quarter-circle, spears pointing towards her throat. Two weaker links were behind her, armed with their toothpick blades. Almost comically, dual blue swords fluttered, disarming the swords in an instant as she pushed forward. The metal clattered to the floor, leaving the two men unarmed. With nothing better to do, they fell back, dragging away a wounded companion each and allowed more spearmen to fill their place. Viola didn't acknowledge them and continued her steady walk to the door. Metal tips approached her throat from the front, but with her swords at the ready, she pushed on undeterred.

Feeling lucky, a soldier on her right lunged, trying to close the inches between himself and victory.

[Viola]

Age: 474 years (part 3)

Jagged wrought iron impacted against Viola's bare neck, yet bounced off harmlessly and soundlessly as if being pushed away by an invisible wall. Never sparing the man a glance, Viola gently curled her fingers, raising one hand and waving dismissively - like a princess rejecting a cup of tea or forced to attend a public event and making a vague attempt to uphold her image. While the other soldiers simply stared at her apparent invulnerability, oblivious of the complex magical spell that had countered his strike, one of her right-most blades shimmered. Air rippled above the cerulean sword, a magic-spawned heat haze brought forth by undetectable energies.

Slower than the other swords, it swung outwards sloppily, retaliating to the mortal that dared strike the undying mage. A dull swoosh reverberated through the air, making the might behind the enchanted blade clear. Viola remotely swung it with ease, but any soldier could tell how heavy - or powerful - it felt to observe.

Her target's training almost saved his life. Unlike some of his comrades, he wasn't stupid enough to try and block so much force, especially when it was heading towards his neck. Thinking quickly, or simply acting on instinct, he jerked his head back, leaning partially to the side furthest from the strike and taking a step at the same time.

A small sigh escaped his mouth, and a faint paint of exertion escaped Viola's. He staggered, reaching up to the throat he thought he'd protected. Blood dripped through his fingers, spilling and pooling in waves even as he plastered his palm over the phantom gash. His form crumpled to the floor. The kill was clean - in a more literal sense than the figurative one. Viola was untouched. Neither she nor her weapons bore a spec of blood.

Disorganised, three spears thrust towards her as she tried to take another step. None made it close. Faint ripples of blue mana swarmed through the air. The weapons disintegrated to ashes under her disinterested gaze, leaving their holders unharmed for the moment. 

Viola's left wrist swirled in a similar motion to brushing the dust off an invisible desk. After an inconsequential delay, a harsh wave of magic shunted the trio to the side, faint lilac-blue coating their bodies yet offering no protection from the forces they supplied. Two cracked their skulls cracked against sandstone pillars, either slaying them instantly or merely shutting down their minds. The third, whose collision was made softer by one of his comrades, slumped. Weakly, his muscles twitched, but his ragdoll body refused to leave the floor.

More yells rang out, but before the ranks behind her could get any ideas, two of her swords swivelled to block them off, spinning around like propellers. Reaching her would be like jumping into a blender. Charred black scorch marks were cut into the dusty red carpet, with some tears running deeper to the shabby foundations. Flanks guarded, Viola allowed her eyes to flicker over those who remained in front, crossing her two remaining swords symmetrically and close to deal with any stragglers who might obstruct her exit.

Infiltrate the palace. Kill the king. Return alive. That was her mission, although collateral was not frowned upon. Some of her commanders might have even encouraged it, had they been privy to the operation. It was necessary. Cutting the head off the snake to end the war sooner. She was saving lives... not that it would matter as the centuries passed. Ending existences early was nothing in the grand scheme of things, it just felt different when she was the one doing it. Protecting herself was one thing, as was protecting Rachael all those years ago, but this was a direct act of aggression. She was slaying a ruler to incite a civil war, potentially fueling a deep hate towards the alliance for generations. While her true foresight rarely extended beyond a few seconds, she could almost sense the famine and suffering her actions would bring to these lands.

Viola wasn't sure how to feel. Any internal conflict was hidden by her inexpressive outwards demeanour. Blank and emotionless.

Time belonged to her. She could muse for years without a second ticking by, but nothing going on in her head would change the future she'd already carved. She was not omnipotent.

Relaxing her magicks and allowing the world to progress as normal, she became idly aware of something hot making its way through the soldiers. A person. A mage. He spoke in an alien language just like the others, giving orders with confidence.

She cocked her head as the men parted for him, taking away any remaining wounded or dead and fleeing to the edges of the room.

He was young. Not like her, but the boy couldn't have been older than seventeen. He held one scimitar lightly in each hand, each gave off a warm hue. Like the setting sun. 

Viola didn't stop and maintained her forwards trot, each small step announced with the small tap of the hard soles of her shoes.

Repositioning into the doorway, he made no effort to prevent her advance. His skin was smooth, and his dark chocolate hair made small curls above his bushy eyebrows. He lacked muscles, but was lean and carried an air of discipline about him. Unlike his king, he kept his magic active within his body, preventing Viola from targetting him directly. Regardless, she still had her swords. His two against her four.

"You, child. Stop. You pay. Make... erm... right. You make right." He sheathed one sword to place a fist on his heart, before extending the limb outwards to her. An invitation. Something to shake. "I forgive you." His speech was broken, and but despite the thick accent, Viola got the gist. Her spinning aetherblades drifted to a halt, yet still levitated protectively nearby. Similarly, the two crossed in front of her spread, yet could readily be snapped back together should the need arise. 

She stopped moving, eyeing up the lingering hand. Waiting but saying nothing.

"You young. You learn." He shook his head gently, before bending his knees to put his head level with hers. "I teach you be good. Killing bad."

Viola blinked, knowing there was a misunderstanding between them. Regardless, she found herself listening to his efforts, unsure how to react.

Fumbling, sheather his other blade, then unlatched both scabbards and cast them to the sides. They landed with a clatter. Defenceless to the time mage before him. "You understand? I Damien." He gently tapped his chest with his new free set of fingers. "Damien friend." His lips curled up into a forced smile. It was warming nonetheless.

Twang.

Viola caught a crossbow bolt with her magic, fired from a trigger-happy soldier sensing an opportunity, or perhaps it was part of Damien's plan.

The man visibly recoiled, speaking in his mother tongue once again. Clearly distressed. He gave Viola a brief look of sadness, then instinctively reached for his weapons expecting his 'efforts' to have been turned to nought. Panic.

As he scrambled to the side, desperately avoiding her inert blades, Viola calmly walked around him. Placing one foot in front of the other, she left him behind. It was time to head home.

[Viola]

Age: 232 years

The palace courtyard was cold in the morning winter sun. The sky was bright blue with growing grey patches approaching from the west and a darker set of clouds stewing further north, nothing obstructed the eastern sunlight. Yet, as expected of the time of year, it was distant and empty, casting elongated shadows from even the smaller shrubbery. 

Tranquil was the general theme. Peaceful and isolated. A welcome escape from politics. A place Viola and Rachael relax within the warmth of their own protective charms and each other, away from... everything.

Tensions had risen and speculation run amock throughout many circles of scholars, even common folk. All had heard of Yoma, the city erased from time itself. If not for artwork and memories, many would be certain it never existed. The magical residue from the miles of warped space was detected by mages on the other side of the continent. While few knew the cause, there were rumours. The alliance had been pressured to reveal their 'weapon', while others were so sure it a rogue faction. Be it a dark network of evil agents testing their doomsday device or an army paid for by one of the desert kingdoms. Would the alliance really destroy an allied city just to wipe out an army? Was it a test of a secret prototype? 

No one knew, but Viola was suspect to some. The ageless mage. Classifications on information pertaining to her - unlike the public database for adult mages - only made things much more suspicious, even if it was hidden behind laws and regulations preventing information on children being released. A loophole made possible her apparent age. The intentions were for every child to have equal opportunities in the magical world, for any selection bias based on background or even training history to be pushed aside. Yet, this was often neglected in favour of a bit of coin.

As a result, the time mage was forced to lie low and find ways to entertain both herself and her charge, preferably without being forced to try on every dress in the palace.

True magical training was prohibited. It was shown to lower the caster's lifespan, ironically. That didn't prevent Viola from suggesting light sparring practice. At least once a weak the duo would find themselves on the tiled patio, Rachael armed with a practice sword and Viola holding one with her magic.

"You're too fast," Rachael spoke between pants, her voice taking on a light exaggerating tone. "And you can see the future. This is unfair." She twisted her body awkwardly, trying to keep her feet in place while turning around at the same time. After holding it for a moment, she let her hips spring to their natural position, using the motion to power a quick step as she stumbled towards the nearest bench, spinning another half circle in the process and hopping back over the armrest. She fell, landed on the seats with her legs hooked over the edge. Pulling her knees in, she kicked, her butt skidded over the smooth wood as she sprawled out over the furniture in a very un-regal fashion.

Viola wasn't responsible for managing the lady's habits, only her protection. "Fights are rarely fair. You defended well, be proud." If Viola's expressions weren't so dulled, she would have smiled. Instead, she calmly walked over to the bench, gently leaning her sword against the back and trying to find a way to slot herself on the seat with Rachael's legs in the way. 

Preemptively, Viola sighed, knowing both from experience and foresight what was coming next. With surprising speed, the princess swivelled and lunged forwards, grabbing the smaller girl, whirling her around, and pulling her into a hug from behind. Viola flopped, just letting it happen as Rachael heaved, swiftly shuffling to fix her posture, pulling the weak girl onto her lap. "Gotcha. I win!"

"Good job," the time mage spoke in complete deadpan, already feeling one hand start to toy with her hair while the other hugged her waist. She wasn't... aversed to the attention, as demeaning as it might look, but there was only so much coddling she could take.

"Aww... Don't be like th-"

The moment was interrupted shortly with a loud slam. A man in business attire escorted by two heavily armoured guards burst into the courtyard. While the noble maintained some grace despite the noise, the soldiers clunked along next to him making no effort to move uniformly - not even in time with each other. Neither had visible weapons, however.

Fumbling, the man pulled out a scroll. "I am here to request an audience with Lady Viola. Alone." His nose was curved and pointy, perfect for looking down as she showcased the most stereotypical behaviour possible for an aristocrat. It was made very obvious that he was silently scoffing at their position. He glanced at Viola, then Rachael, presumably considering them both to be children.

However, before Viola could give any answer of her own, Rachael spoke for her. "Court is closed." She continued to fluff odd strands of Viola's long hair, rearranging them back into position afterwards. "Come back tomorrow, the royal guardian's presence is required by my side."

With a clang of metal, one of the guards began to step forwards, his gauntlet-covered hands curling into fists. Still at least ten paces away, with his movements slow and clunky, Viola would have had adequate time to prepare. She made no effort, however, already knowing the outcome. At the noble's gesture, the hulking man stopped. Rachael was unphased, but raised an eyebrow, confused by what could easily have been seen as an act of aggression against the royal family.

"That is quite fine," this stick-ish man asserted. "I am prepared to wait." Without asking permission, he strolled over to another bench, one adjoined to an adjacent side of the quadrangle than the one the girls had chosen. The guards followed. Viola disliked him already.