He is Test-kun!

I am the greatest warrior in all the universe! My power is beyond all logic, beyond all comprehension! Those who faced me are dead, those who hear my name tremble, those who do not know me will soon enter a world of pain!

Who am I? I am TEST-KUN!

Yes, Test-kun, the greatest warrior in all the universe, as I have said before. With my awesome powers I stand upon the Heavens, looking down at all those who came before me, laughing at their dead bodies as they rot! But even so, even as I stand at the top, even as I have earned my rightful place as the greatest in the universe... I am sad. I am lonely.

I am alone.

There are no others like me; for if there were, I would have fought and killed them all by now! But as such, there are no others... but then the universe could not create another awesome power like my own, not in the way that I am. My thick, blue lined stick figure like body is the pinnacle of evolution, for with it I can tap into the might of the universe itself! With my fingerless hands I bring terror, and with my eternal smile face I bring, in irony, sorrow!

But so I stand at the top, looking down at the whole of creation and I feel sorrow and pain; I am alone. All those other beings have somebody, be it family, lovers, friends... I have nothing. No family could withstand my power, no lovers my sheer force, no friends the immense grandness of my presence. For me, my might and glory are a curse, for I can never be with another; they would die if they stayed around me for too long.

Such is the immense power I can handle, the glory of the universe that flows through and from me.

Only another like me can be a friend, and there are none like me in this universe. Mayhaps, then, I should try another universe, you say? If only it were that simple! For if I were to enter another universe, I may die; its laws that govern all things may be so different that I would cease to exist! Or worse, I would be bound to paper, a mere scribble! No, such is not an option, such is out of the question! I, Test-kun, must not go to another universe!

But even if I did, this one would be doomed, for my mere existence balances the universe! Without me, this reality would fracture like an egg shell and break apart, collapsing under its own weight! So, for the good of all, I must not leave!

But still, I am alone. I can see them all, so happy.... I am alone, I am unhappy.

Oh, I could destroy them all, but then that is not what Test-kun does! He does not kill out of spite for what others have, no matter how much he wishes he could; Test-kun kills only when challenged, and then only when his foe is worthy of being killed! For that is what I, Test-kun, was meant to do; test all those who would stand against the powers of the universe, to see if there could be one who would become its new master.

But nobody has beaten me, for I am the greatest! I am Test-kun; if I were to be beaten, I would no longer be Test-kun, they would be. But as I have not been beaten, I am still Test-kun, and I am forever doomed to be alone, to await the time to test those who challenge my might.

But I do not like being alone; not even I, Test-kun can stand the lonely position at the top forever. Indeed, it has been so long since I have been with another that was not in combat, killing them; and even then, they exploded from my power. For Test-kun is a position that doesn't allow love or happiness, it destroys companionship and all ties. Test-kun is thus tested, and if he is found wanting, then he will no longer be Test-kun, and all will fall apart.

And so, for the future of all things, for the sake of the universe I must be Test-kun no matter what! I must not give into the lonely nature of my being, I must not let the unhappy life I lead get to me! But even still...

I am sad, I am lonely. Test-kun is not a position that I enjoy, it is something I endure for the sake of all things, for those who died, those who lived, and those who will come to die by my hand and those who never will and shall live. It is my sacred duty to be Test-kun, and to not give into the feelings I have, no matter how lonely I am, no matter how sad. For the test must not be failed; Test-kun cannot be beaten, even by feelings!

Test-kun will not allow it!

Feel sorry for me if you must, but feel happy as well, for my suffering means you can live; give both praise and condolences to Test-kun if you want, and I shall hear it. But know that Test-kun will never leave his position, will never allow the test to come to a failed conclusion.

For Test-kun will never allow himself to be beaten by anything! Test-kun shall endure and, in the end, prevail above all things!

This, Test-kun promises!

Wail: That Which Sounds Hollow

That mournful sound fills my ears almost every night now; it's such a terrible noise. The wails of a miserable beast that roams the land crying out as if in pain, or perhaps out of being lonely. Its voice is filled with anguish... or so it would seem.

It's hollow, the sound. To those who first hear it, it would be the sound of pain, of suffering, of somebody mourning over the loss of a loved one. But to me, to the one who has heard it for so very long now it sounds empty. As though the wailing has no true meaning behind it, as though the voice has no emotion behind it; as though the wailing is just some sort of trick, some sort of trap... some sort of ruse.

Even though it holds no meaning to me I can't sleep; it's just so loud that it vibrates against my eyes... I can feel it rattling my teeth. No matter how much I cover my head with a pillow I can't drown it out; the noise cuts through everything.

When the sound comes, I head up to the roof to look out at the night sky and the city before me. Tonight was no different, and the moon is bright tonight, so very full... and I can hear it so very clearly. My eyes stare outwards toward the mountains beyond thee city bathed in the reflected light of the sun; I stare at the mountains because the moon is too bright... and because the city disturbs me on these nights.

I can see things when the sound comes, when the wailing makes my lungs tremble as I try to breathe; I can see things. Shades on the roofs, phantom images that vanish as quickly as I can see them; are they ghosts? Or maybe my eyes are just playing tricks with me because of the sound vibrates against them.

The sound is so loud tonight, it's almost too much for me to handle. It's as though the source is coming closer to me, and yet as I look at the city I can't see it; not even the shadows and phantoms that sometimes come before my eyes. It just gets louder, that noise; I cover my ears with my hands but it doesn't help at all.

My lungs... they're starting to hurt. For some reason it's harder to breathe; it's difficult just to fill them, but it's so easy to squeeze them empty. The air seems to be so very thin, as though I were high in the mountains... and yet the atmosphere feels heavy, as though I were in the depths of the ocean.

What's going on tonight?

The hair on the back of my neck is standing up, my body is covered in goosebumps. The sound gets louder and louder, it gets harder to breathe. I don't understand what's going on, I feel like I'm being crushed while the air is getting thinner; my eyes are hurting so much. I have to close them, I clinch my hands tight against my ears...

Nothing helps. Am I... am I having some kind of a heart attack? A stroke? No... that can't be it; I'm not old enough for that, there isn't a history of it in my family as far as I know. I shouldn't be... having such a thing...

It's louder... oh God, the sound is so loud. My ear drums want to rupture and my eyes want to pop; but it just gets louder and closer. This is the first time it's ever been like this, the first time that it's felt this close. For some reason that I'm not sure of I open my eyes... and it's looking at me; a huge monster.

My eyes go wide, my body trembles, I stop breathing; there's a huge monster standing in-front of me, as tall as my house! Its eyes are sunken into a white mask as it stares, mouth open, the sound coming from deep in its throat. It just stands there, looking... my body frozen in place, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. I try to move, to run and yet... nothing happens.

I'm in shock... oh God, what's happening?

It stares at me for long moments, it feels so long even though I'm sure it's been only a few seconds. I stare back at it, my eyes wide even though they want to burst... and then it lurches forward, its open mouth coming at me as though to eat me! I try to scream but nothing comes out, and in a sudden burst of motion I roll backwards.

Tumbling down the roof I begin to fall as its face slams into the roof; everything begins to slow down for me. My body is falling heavily to the concrete below me, face up toward the sky, my head locked in place, eyes gazing at the monster. It pulls away from the roof and hoists itself up with such speed; its body is huge, its hands clawed... there's an immense, empty hole in its chest that I can see through.

It's perched itself there, watching me fall as though it were some bird watching a cat fall from a tree. God, please let me die upon impact, I don't want to be eaten by this thing alive!

But, it seems that whatever force is out there has other plans, for the beast comes down on me, its bulk moving so quickly; it's already within inches of biting down on my body, killing me... please, oh please just let me hit the ground!

Falling... falling... it's coming closer. Its mouth so wide, the inside so dark and empty as though it has no tongue, no inner flesh. I can't breathe, my lungs are burning so badly, the blood vessels in my eyes want to just tear apart. I know the ground is coming up fast even if everything feels so slow.

This is how I'm going to die; just please let me die without being eaten.

Falling, so close to the ground... but it's closer! Its mouth opens even wider, like a snake whose jaws can unhinge; it's going to swallow me! Come on... come on... let me hit the concrete already!

Closer... closer... the darkness of its mouth is gaining so fast, my eyes are failing as my lungs, indeed the rest if my body cry out for air. So close... both the monster and the ground.

Falling... the ground is just a moment away now, I can feel it even if I can't see. But the monster is right on top of me now...

Falling... falling... the ground, the monster; God, just let me die before it eats me!

Falling... falling...

... Darkness...

The Quints: Fall

The galaxy was forever changed when our homeworld was destroyed. Without our makers in their place of rule, the more ambitious flesh creatures took their chance to expand their own holdings. And so it was that the galaxy fell into a war not seen before in the known history of our makers.

While we did not wish to participate in the war directly, we could not overlook this chance to build our presence in the galaxy at large, or to turn a profit. Taking up possession of a former resource planet in the furthermost reaches of our galaxy, we began the process of turning it into a factory world.

There, we constructed weapons of our makers design using their knowledge, selling them to all sides involved in the ever expanding wars with the promise that they would leave us in peace. It was also on this world that we began the work that would one day cause us to collapse; the construction of robots.

Our prototype devices were simple, just as that of the Primacron... but they soon grew in complexity and capability. However, try as we may we could not fully grant them sentience. These little more than programmed devices were still a viable product, and were sold to the waring factions... but they were still not that which we sought.

Turning to the storehouse of wisdom, one of our brave scientists tried in vain to find the research of the Primacron, to see what he did to create the Oracle... but the knowledge was beyond our grasp, locked deep within. It was only when it was inserted and merged with the collective minds of one scientist that the knowledge came... but at a cost; the minds were absorbed, added to the wisdom collected within. The being ceased to be itself, and was something wholly new...

The Prime.

The master of all wisdom, the leader of our race. From the Prime we received our name, free and devoid of the service that we once were cast into. We became the Quintessons. It, in turn, became the Alpha Quintesson.

We labored in the construction of that which would allow us to give true minds to our creations, to make them more than just mindless shells with programming, something more valuable to us and the galaxy at large. It was a drive that consumed us, pushed on by the cold logic of wanting to surpass the flesh creatures that gave us life, and the desire to have more power, more influence... more domination.

Supercomputers were born of our work, the planet we used as a base became a vast factory that was thousands of miles thick, controlled by a central computer that organized all others. We dubbed the planet Lithone, and it was our testing ground. From there we built machines, and then machines built machines; the planet became automated, the product given sentience by the super computer we called Vector Sigma. These first machines were a bit clumsy and slow, but they were smarter and more agile than the past units. Composed of sharp lines, they were not like the flesh creatures and their soft, rounded features... they were better.

Sold to the flesh creatures to further feed their war, the Lithonian line was a great success; for as long as the wars lasted. Like all things, war does not last forever, especially with flesh creatures. In a few generations the wars slowly came to an end as new nation states in space formed and peace became a more preferred option over all out war. The races who bought first weapons and then mechanical servants from us wanted more functions, more features; they wanted units that were specialized rather than all inclusive.

We tried to modify the Lithonian line, but all of our attempts failed. We came to a point where we would need a completely new design, a new way to construct units; Lithone was no longer capable of keeping up with the changes needed, regardless of how we tried to upgrade the facilities. As such, the factory planet was all but shut down; taking Vector Sigma with us, the planet and its units were abandoned.

For centuries afterwards, we colonized many different planets, trying numerous different designs, ever trying to enhance the lines, to make products that the masses would purchase; all failed. As specific task machines, our models had the bodies and minds, but they could not connect fully; conventional circuity could not, it seemed, allow them to fully utilize their intelligence and finer motor control. Try as we may, even with Vector Sigma, our greatest advance in computer technology, we could not find a way to create a circuit that could do what we wanted artificially.

The search, then, was on for a material that we could use, that could be added to our known materials, or something completely new and unknown that could achieve our desire. Many planets were scouted, many samples taken... nothing was found.

That is, until we came across a small, barren little rock of a world; a rogue planet traveling through the vastness of interstellar space. There, a green crystal material was found; it was tested and applied to our most advanced model's circuity and systems. It increased connectivity with the brain unit by two-hundred thirty percent.

This, it seemed, was the find that we had waited for.

Setting down on the small world, we began to mine it; the world was rich with the material. With a reliable source and a material that we could use to make our models the most efficient possible, we set to work converting the planet into yet another grand factory, increasing its mass, covering it in a shell of metals that housed the vast complex devices that could create machines. Deep within, in the most heavily defended section of the new metal world, we placed Vector Sigma, allowing it control over the whole of the world.

This new factory, which we dubbed Cybertron, churned out more and more machines of increased mental ability and enhanced design; we had three basic lines then, the consumer model, the military model and the government model. Also, because of our great Alpha Quintesson, the Prime of our race, and the discovery of the crystal substance that we dubbed Cybertonium, we were able to harness plasma energy, the very same that the Primacron used to shape the great planet eater, constructing a chamber that was used to forge new, better, more durable shells.

With the new models flowing into the galaxy, we were sure that we would grow in power and influence; for a time we did. But, of course, the flesh beings had complaints. For while the government models were praised for their cold logic, the military and consumer goods models were considered to be too cold, too logical; many assumed the military hardware would react in ways not in line with intended orders. The consumer models, used in tasks such as house cleaning and helping to raise children were cold and unfeeling, which, to beings who valued emotions, meant that they were less than optimal for such tasks.

For a short time, we tried to use biological beings, coupled with technology to gain emotion without the need to do any major changes to our units. The results were... far less than desired, much less safe. These Trans-Organics, as we dubbed them, were vicious and without logic; they were mindless beasts with powers that not even our modified with heavy firepower guard Quintessons could handle. The worst of all was a being which we designed to be a living energy siphon, called the Dweller. It took many attempts and many older machines, but we finally managed to put them into stasis, deep below the planet; in our minds, perhaps one day they may have been of value, hence their fate of stasis rather than destruction.

Again we went back to work, testing and changing, enhancing Vector Sigma, simulating emotions in an attempt at making fully mechanical beings with feelings; to beings who have but cold logic, we knew not that feelings had such value. We tried, several times then, to upgrade older models with basic emotional programming; all soon had to be deactivated, their emotions overcoming their circuits, causing them to act in unacceptable ways. It was then that we knew that, once more, we would have to create a whole new line; only this time, we could maintain Cybertron as a factory, for it was not a question of massive changes, but many small changes that could be achieved with the existing hardware and machines in place.

Consumer model, units A1 and A2 were failures; but each was a step closer to our goal. It was not until unit A3 that we were able to achieve emotional stability with sentience, and the unit did not display any unfavorable actions. From this primary unit, we derived plans for a second unit which would appeal to buyers who wished for house keeping and child raising in mind. It was called Beta, and it worked just as well as A3, if not better; its emotions were a bit stronger, but they were still in control.

With these two, and a third model redesigned to be both loyal and more aggressive towards enemies, with a new preinstalled weapons array that could easily be altered at the discretion of the owner, we had a line of products that met the demands of the galaxy at large, and even beyond. With our success came newer, more advanced models in different styles and builds, ranging from miner units to swift, agile models used for espionage and everything in between.

While there was little waste, as material were recycled, there was some waste; such a problem was solved upon finding a small wormhole that connected to a rural galaxy of little importance and a nearby world that we could dump; it came to be known as Junk.

But, just as our makers had before us, we became lazy as we forced our models to do the work for us; what little there was that wasn't handled by the more simple devices. We took to whipping and torture to keep them in line, punishment was death for those who disobeyed. We even went so far as to have our models fight until they were deactivated for our entertainment; something in us was changing. Our cold logic was giving way to a sadistic desire for destruction, our greed grew by leaps and bounds; we were now the masters to beings who were the system, and it was not until it was too late that we realized that they, like us, didn't take to it very well.

The uprisings, at first, were small; some units who were fighting to the end for us would suddenly lunge when we gave the order for it to be finished; at first it was easy to put down and use them as an example, but soon the numbers were growing. Our consumer goods models were beginning to refuse to work, and even the military models we were using to quell such uprisings were beginning to grow weary of our use of them.

It came to a point where only the government units could be trusted, and they were of little value in defending us. We had to create a force that could put down all challenges, that could crush their follow machines without feeling or remorse. In this time of need, when we felt the threats closing in that we created mammoth, hulking machines with thick armor and immense firepower; the Dark Guardians.

With our great unfeeling, loyal to a fault guards that protected our cities we felt invincible; our folly born of arrogance was rewarded when our Dark Guardians were deactivated by A3. Without their protection, we were helpless as our creations stormed our cities and attacked us, the military models doing the most damage. Our government models, using cold logic and rule of law were destroyed swiftly, giving us time to escape.

Except for our great leader, the Alpha Quintesson. So sure was our leader of the Dark Guardians that it lived outside of the city walls, protected by a special group of Guardians... our Prime was lost the same day we lost our factory world, the storehouse of wisdom stolen as well.

We retreated that day, a fleet of ships all that we had to our names. Without a leader, and with our primary source of power and income stripped away, we were left with nothing. Lithone, we believed, was a dead world that held a product that none would buy, and try as we may, we could never find another source of Cybertonium, making machines like those of Cybertron impossible.

Exhausted from the constant wander, we settled down on a small and oddly shaped planet. There, we built a civilization based on bitterness and hatred, our logic corrupted by the feelings that we supposedly didn't have. We took joy in the torture of other beings in mock trials, constructed new minions who could not truly think but were both loyal and vicious to be the destroyers of those we tried and condemned to death. We looked at Cybertron as a world stolen from us, and while we swore revenge one day, it never came to pass. In time, we began to forget, but the bitterness and hatred remained; the Cybertronian machines, to us, no longer existed, the world was nearly a myth.

Until, of course, millions of years later they came to our world, Quintessa...

The Quints: Rise

Ours is a history that repeats itself, and at times we don't even realize it. Perhaps it's the cold logic that we follow, our nature to depend on numbers that makes us blind to the events of the past and how they reflect the events of the present.

A billion years ago, when the multitude of sentient beings were just discovering the ability to travel faster than light, the creatures of our original homeworld were already masters of travel. Their technology was greater than all others, their wisdom born of hundreds of millions of years of living, of being the masters of their world, of being the true rulers of the galaxy as no other could rival them.

At their height, they were an unstoppable power, a force that could shape the nature of the galaxy itself... but their power came at a cost; their numbers were immense, their needs for resources vast in order to sustain them all. For in those days, all were made of flesh and bone; there were no machines that were capable of thought, of feeling.

The great many machine worlds that dominate the galaxy now were but a distant thought.

In order to lift their burden, in order to make things faster and cheaper, to lessen the strain on their ever draining resource worlds, they began to craft machines which could do the work. It was here that the greatest mind in the galaxy at the time, perhaps the greatest mind in the history of the universe came into play. He was the Primacron, the chief scientist of our homeworld and leader of the scientific community of the galaxy.

Despite his great mind, the first machines he crafted were simple, clumsy... they were in the form of animals. His great many early projects ended up as pets to the leaders of their empire, but they could not command the ships and worlds. It took him many tries, years of research and error before, finally, he created the first truly sentient machine. Called the Oracle, this creature was a large, ape like creation... and within it was a power that the Primacron had never expected, nor could he ever recreate.

The Oracle, the assistant to the Primacron had the power, the ability to give life to other machines, to make them sentient as well. Try as he may, the Primacron could never make this happen again; and so, the two began to work together, creating new, more powerful machines and giving them sentience.

In time the empire became more and more mechanized, and the beings grew comfortable with having intelligent machines doing their work. The desire for machines for more applications increased, and the Primacron answered the call; we were finally being born. One faced at the time, our ancestors were given two legs and two arms, but their minds were more advanced than those before. Cold and logical, they became a part of the government... and they began the creation of the single most important object in the galaxy, with the blessing of their masters.

A golden, oval object with a gold encased, glowing blue crystal lattice; it was the culmination of all science, of all wisdom, of all information. Within its structure all was kept; it was the legacy of the homeworld, and even the Primacron entrusted his sheer brilliance to it, allowing for all of time his inventions and knowledge to be held within.

The time passed, and more of our kind were made; we were very successful in the government and private sectors. Instead of two arms and two legs, we began to be made with multiple tentacle like appendages and anti gravity devices, allowing us to float in the air and move with swift ease; we were multitaskers to an extreme extent. To further this we were given large, bulbous bodies that housed ever increasing advanced technology with vast wisdom installed; we became scientists in our own right, far smarter than most of our homeworlds inhabitants.

It was here that we truly began to change, to take the shape that we have now; the scientists began to create new versions of us, first with two faces with two different personalities, then with three, four... and then, finally, five. Each one had its own purpose, its own use; the two and three faces became new members of the government, used to multitask many different areas where each face specialized in. The four faces became commanders of ships and planets, their vast array of specialization making them the best choice for the tasks that came with such a position.

The five faces, in turn, became the judges; they were the legal system. With five different minds and five different voices, they were judge and jury. They were helped by the specially created single faced prosecutors, beings whose job it was to push the system along with the cold efficiency that was the ideal of those we served.

But service was a hard thing to take; the makers became lazy to a point where we were left in charge of all things. We began to wonder why we even needed these flesh creatures, why we needed to keep their system sustained when we could just so easily do away with them and BECOME the system.

We moved, slowly... we first restricted access to the storehouse of knowledge that we ourselves created, to ensure that none would begin to see the changes over the generations. The only one besides ourselves who had access to it was the Primacron, for his inventions and wisdom we could use, and only he may have been able to stop us.

Over the generations, we began to take more and more control, we began to make them simple minded; in time they were a population of fools and idiots who depended on us, and only us. Where once they were an empire, they were now cattle to OUR empire. But, even as we were solidifying our position things were working against us, no matter how it seemed, at the time, that it wasn't.

The Primacron, for all his wisdom and knowledge was a flesh creature; he had feelings and desires. He became arrogant; he had a right to, for his was the most brilliant mind in the galaxy... but he became too engrossed in himself. Using plasma energy, which runs wild and is all powerful, he began to craft the greatest creation of his entire existence, and the greatest folly in all of history.

A giant, planet sized machine with the ability to alter its form... it would consume worlds to fuel its mission of destruction. For the Primacron, in his madness wished to begin anew; to wipe the universe clean to remake in his own image, in his own idea of what creation was supposed to be. He grated it immense power, immense intelligence... and such was his error.

With its mind, it saw little use in serving the Primacron; it rebelled against his will. Badly wounded, the Primacron had to flee while his assistant, the Oracle, was destroyed; it was then that the great machine planet began the process that would make it infamous in all the universe...

We barely managed to escape in time as the immense monster set its sights on our homeworld, the collective knowledge of our makers safely in our tentacles. We fled, then, to the furthest reaches of our home galaxy as the beast began its grand mission to rule a void.

There, where we were safe, we set to work building an empire of our own making; an empire of machines.

Brave New Era, Chapter 1: Two Eras, One Future

A fleet of airships flew over head as a pair of blue eyes watched them. The familiar hum of their old style engines filled the air as banners trailed behind their impressive bulk, proclaiming to the small village that it was a day of celebration and rejoicing. A group composed of nearly every citizen had gathered in the square where a large booth had been constructed, and the leader of the population of less than a hundred stood proudly before a large, overly complex looking device. Sporting a large sheet of thick glass in its center, a group of men clad in dirty clothing hovered over the machinery, checking it to ensure that things would run smoothly.

Near the back of the group the owner of the blue eyes stood impatiently, hoping that things would start soon. She tapped her red shoe clad foot against the cobblestones that made up the square and every road which connected to it, which was in reality all that existed in the village. Crossing her arms across her chest, she took in a deep breath before letting is escape; she didn't have time for this.

"How much longer is this going to take? The longer this goes on, the more likely it is that I'm going to be caught!"

She grumbled to herself as she continued to tap, watching as the men kept on checking things. The fleet of airships slowly began to vanish, their hum all but gone; the murmurs of the group was more easily heard; they were all as impatient as she. She smirked for a moment as she imagined them rioting, demanding that they start the thing already... but then taking part in a riot would get her into even more trouble than she would already be in if she were found.

The smirk faded, only to be replaced by a smile as, finally, the men nodded with one another and left, leaving only the leader, one man and the device. The leader of the village, who was easily in his sixties turned to face the group, a wide smile upon his face as he held his arms out wide, gaining a roar from the crowd. Once they settled down, he cleared his throat;

"My friends, today I am proud to announce that we, the village of Ydora have finally taken the first step into the new era. In but a few moments we shall see first hand the official handing over of power in the once and future capitol of Ivalice!

Rejoice, my friends, for today we will be free!"

The crowd erupted in a second roar of approval as the old man stepped out of the way, allowing all to see the glass of the device. With but a wave of his hand the only one of the group who had been checking the device over began the process of activating it, flipping all manner of switches and ensuring that gauges checked out. Then, with one press of a button the beast of technology groaned as the glass came to life, displaying for the first time an image.

It was the capitol city of Lesalia, or rather the castle in which the royal family had ruled from for centuries. The banners of the seven regions hung from the imposing mason work that had kept the royal blood safe and secure even through times of fierce warfare. Each naturally was a different set of colors, but as the device's image was only in black and white, the people were denied their vibrant color schemes.

But given that they were seeing images from a distance that would take them weeks to travel they didn't have much to complain about.

The blue eyes of the young woman in the back of the crowd focused on the image, an intense interest filling her. She had heard about this event for years; it nearly begun the same year that she was born. Hers was the first generation to be raised with the knowledge that they would no longer have a ruling class, that their fates wouldn't be decided by those whom received their position by blood, but by the choice of the people. She didn't want to miss the official transfer, she didn't want to miss the changing of an era!

So consumed she was that she didn't even realize that she had been found; a swift strike to the top of her head with the head of a staff was the thing that let it sink in. Naturally, she placed her arms over her head to shield it from further damage as she turned, anger in her eyes... which quickly bleed away and turned into a bit of fear as she saw the older woman, clad in a cloak of green with gold trim standing before her.

Swallowing hard, the young woman forced a nervous smile;

"Um... I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here. Well, you see..."

"Save it, Lavian."

The older woman snapped, forcing the girl into silence. With but a motion of a finger the older woman began to walk, and Lavian followed behind, a hand still on the tender spot of her head; she knew that the other arm may very well be needed to defend other parts of her body.

"I can't believe you actually snuck out. What would your father say..."

The older woman began to speak as they put an ever increasing distance between themselves and the crowd, ensuring that they couldn't be over heard. Lavian followed behind, just out of striking distance of the staff that was tucked away inside of her cloak.

"I''m sure he would have understood that this is important. More important than your stupid lessons..."

The young woman mumbled to herself, but it was a bit too loud as the older woman stopped, turned and dug into her with a gaze that sent a shiver up her spine and forced Lavian to look down. Instead of unleashing the staff again, the older woman came close and pressed it against her chin, forcing Lavian's face up to match her gaze.

"Those 'stupid lessons' are a part of your family, and have been for centuries. Just because the royal family is stepping down and history is taking a different course doesn't mean that all the old ways are going to go the same way.

Look at you; you have no respect for the past. You discarded your traditional cloak and garb in favor of a harlot's dress!"

Lavian was a bit put off by that comment. Her dress was in no way something a harlot would wear; granted, the chest may have been a bit too low cut than she would have normally worn, but it didn't show too much; it was a few good inches above the line where it would show any cleavage... if she had any to show, anyway. Her arms were bare, yes, but then showing ones arms in public hadn't been a taboo for nearly a century. Also, the dress still came below the knee; to wear something at knee level or just above was a line she wasn't willing to cross.

"Now listen here... just because I don't have every single inch of my body covered in three different layers doesn't make me anything like those... those..."

She sputtered, angry and shocked that she would even have the world thrown at into her face.

"If you were a proper lady you surely wouldn't show that much skin, and if you were any kind of proper daughter you wouldn't disrespect the ways of your family! Your father had to do the exact same things that you were supposed to do, he went through the same hardships and trials that you were to experience. But instead you cast off your responsibilities, dressed yourself up like a street walker and snuck out!

And for what? To see the royal family fall to the wayside? To see as centuries of tradition fall apart simply because the people are no longer content to know their place?"

The older woman removed the staff from below Lavian's chin, then placed the bottom tip onto the cobble stones. Looking at the girl, she expected her to say something, anything. But Lavian knew better than to say it; she could think it real loud, but saying it would only earn her another blow, or worse, a beating.

"Come along, Lavian; this time you will complete your lessons."

The older woman said as she turned, then began to walk once more. As Lavian followed behind, she looked to the cobble stone path below her, watching as the centuries old stones passed as she walked. Just as time had worn them down to smooth nubs, so too has time worn down the ways that the older woman held onto, the ways that she tried with all of her might to force into the future by making Lavian carry them.

"But I won't. Your era is coming an end, you crazy old hag. And my era... my era is only just beginning."

Brave New Era, Prologue: Pact

The night was calm and dark as the new moon sat in the sky, the stars holding a silent vigil over the land. In an old ruin of a once mighty fort, abandoned for centuries and left to fall into disrepair, several people gathered. Their bodies clad in cloaks which covered and hid all features, they stood in the central chamber where once a full contingent of over five hundred men would receive their orders on a daily basis.

Even if here was but only six of them where once stood hundreds, their combined might would have easily overpowered those who once occupied this place ten times over.

A series of torches lined the walls of the chamber, giving them just enough light to see one another as they stood in a circle while the broken, rough features of the stone work, worn down by the centuries of neglect cast shadows as they stood in silence, as if awaiting something, or somebody.

They did not have to wait long, for finally a seventh stepped into the chamber and joined the others. They made room for the newest member who, like the others, was clad in a cloak.

Joining their circle, the new comer spoke;

"I have received word; Scorpio has been found. The eighth is on his way to retrieve it."

The voice was masculine and rough, aged. If one had to guess, the man had to be in his early forties.

"There is only three left now... the time for the awakening is coming close."

Another spoke, the voice feminine and gentle.

"But even so, there is one more thing that must be done before the Angel of Blood will awakening once more."

Yet another voice came, this one also male but it was much younger sounding.

"Yes... we must begin it again."

The seventh member, and the first who had spoke joined in once more, his voice taking on a serious tone.

Silently, and all at once the seven came together in a tight circle, each with a hand outstretched toward the center. Coming close enough to touch, they placed their hands in the center, one on top of the other. while the seventh removed a dagger from his cloak.

Taking a firm grip on its handle, he dangled the long, nearly one and a half foot blade just above the joined hands.

"We swear on this day that we will make it our mission to bring about the glorious return of the Angel of Blood, the High Seraph, back to this world. Let none stand in our way."

"For the glory of the High Seraph, we shall stain this world red."

The group spoke as one, their voices intermixed with a unity that few could ever hope to meet. It was at that moment, as they swore with their words that the seventh drove his blade down with strength and force that seemed so inhuman, piercing each and every single hand until the tip protruded from the bottom most one. Just as the blood on the dagger, heir free flowing blood combined before dripping to the ground, mixing together in a small pool below them, covering a worn crest that was hidden under the dust and debris of the centuries.

Their pact was sealed with their blood, and just as they had done to the crest from a long forgotten time, so too would they do to the world.

This, they swore.