Huge arches giving way to the outside view from three walls flanked Xanthy and her friends as they followed the Precar past an expansive court room void of benches. Carpets muffling their footsteps were spread at the whole expanse of the room. Damn, these must be a pain to wash.

The wind blew outside, shaking the multicolored canopies largely dominated by green. Fog muted every color and turned the air heavy and wet. The sun had started to set and Xanthy, without risking a glance at a timeteller out of sheer respect, guessed it must be between the third quarter and the second hour of the third quarter. Just a few hours left and they'll enter the second sphere.

Another day gone. How were the brownies holding up?

Xanthy shook her head. Focus on what's coming.

Indeed, what's coming commanded attention of every kind. An ornamented chair was installed atop a decorated dais and on it sat Ezril wearing the same outfit and the same stony face. A circlet with an emerald piece decorated the High Priestess' brow, glinting against the scant light in the courtroom.

The Precar in front of them paused, put his hands together, and dipped his head. Xanthy glanced at the floor and realized that they're just a few steps from Ezril's throne.

Six people dressed in formal coats, skirts, and trousers flanked the High Priestess on either side. Xanthy studied the array of silver and blue hair, the slew of men and women, and all kinds of weapons that they bore. The Rekshais.

They were in the middle of an argument with Ezril caught in the middle of it.

"You know those cursed Imperial fairies won't spread an inkling of their help," the man with bright, silver hair said with his eyebrows meeting together. He reminded Xanthy of the self-righteous Nobles but not in a bad way. They just have a similar stance and the same manner of speaking. "As it is, High Queen Sylkrana doesn't even care about us."

"You think too much, Reksha Ryul," an old man reached out and patted the fuming Reksha on the shoulder. Xanthy knitted her eyebrows. She thought fairies never aged? How come this banshee looked like he's been here for a thousand years? "Perhaps this is just a trying time for us all."

"Not a valid reason to deny us help," the woman with blue hair crossed her arms. A curved sword glinted at her side. "High Queen Nevrin didn't even grant us access for personal contact. It's just that damned witch of an assistant telling us that the High Queen is indisposed at the moment."

"What's wrong with her, anyway?" the man with the staff asked. He looked like he was just Xanthy's age but his deep voice told her that this man has been around for quite some time. "She's becoming less visible these days. The crusades even stopped."

"She's sick, or as the rumors say, she's going crazy," the woman with the ponytail ran a hand on her scalp with a tip of her head. "Either way, the bottom point is that Lanteglos can't help us. Not today. We're on our own."

The Precar in front of Xanthy and her friends cleared his throat. "Highest, the guests you have requested."

The Rekshais froze and almost as one, whirled to Xanthy and her friends' direction. Ezril motioned to the tall man who was in her immediate left. "Reksha Ryul, start us off."

The tall man nodded with pursed lips. He turned to the Precar. "Thank you for guiding them. You are excused."

The Precar bowed deeply before fishing a soul port from his robes. He vanished with a flash of light. Reksha Ryul cleared his throat.

"Pilgrims," he said in a voice that's enough to calm a dagrine and at the same time command it. "You stand in front of the Holy Council of Carleon. In the Name of the Great Goddess Pidmena, what is your petition?"

Cyrdel bowed before stepping forward. "Rekshais," he regarded each adviser with a leveled gaze. "I come here bearing the crest of Alkara. I am Cyrdel Sonasson, the Crovalis of the Alkaran Court."

The prince raised his head and touched his chest with a hand. "Someone attacked my people and robbed them of their shadows. My earlier plea with the High Priestess was met with grand conditions but right now, all I wish is your oath to help us after we help you with your present plight."

The Reksha with bright blue hair and shrill voice gasped. "Who told you of the Princess's schemes?"

"Rekshais, if I may," Reeca joined Cyrdel a step farther from them. "The High Priestess told us of it. If we get to the point, tell us how we could help you."

"Are you implying we're helpless?" the woman with the ponytail narrowed her eyes at the varichria. Xanthy stepped back, readying herself to bolt away the moment the first chance presented itself.

Reeca shook her head. "You have not seen the size of the army Kymalin has built," she jerked her chin in Ezril's direction. Was that even proper? "Ask the High Priestess about this. She's the one who showed us the map. Just earlier you're arguing about receiving no help from the Imperial City."

The Rekshais' faces darkened but they remained quiet. Eerily quiet. Like a predator stalking its prey.

"That doesn't matter," Cyrdel spared a glance at the varichria before turning back to the rekshais. "Promise us you'll help the brownies as soon as this is over and we will gladly help you with this problem."

The man with white eyes raised a quiet hand. It's as if a blanket of hush spread across the room as soon as he did that. "How long has it been since the shadows were taken?"

"Two days now, High Lord," Cyrdel dipped his head again. Xanthy knit her eyebrows. Where did he get that term?

The white-eyed man coughed in his fist. He sounded feeble and weak. Was he alright? "How can you say this battle will only last a day? As far as you are concerned, sieges last for as long as the structure stands. Your people will have died at that time."

"Then we'll propose to you another way," Cyrdel raised his head. "If you're willing to lend us your ears."

The Rekshais muttered among themselves. Ezril raised her hand again and they snapped to attention. "Hear what they have to say," Ezril instructed. "Reksha Perrien, kindly keep that frown off your immaculate face. Reksha Janos, I invite you to impart your wisdom into their plan."

Reksha Janos, the white-eyed old man, nodded. "Let's hear it."

Reeca cleared her throat. "We'll raid their camp," she splayed a hand in the Rekshais' direction. "I'm sure the thief is still among their ranks. I believe Kymalin's attacks and the thief's actions are connected since they work together."

Reeca glanced at Xanthy. It was a glance Xanthy understood. They were treading on dangerous ground. Let them hope that the Rekshais wouldn't ask how they came to that conclusion. The fewer people that know about Cardovia and Synketros, the better.

"Tonight, send us to their stronghold to get the shadows back," Reeca continued. "We'll have plenty of time to return before the siege begins."

Reksha Janos held up his hand again. Xanthy held her breath. "The varichria and the half-blood will stay here. The brownies will be the ones who will go to the camp."

Xanthy choked. "What?"

Reksha Janos raised his non-existent eyebrow, making the lines on his forehead more prominent. "You three are the best at vanishing. You can sneak into the camp unseen and undetected by whatever defense they have. Do you agree, Virtakios?"

The word echoed around the room as the Rekshais stared at Xanthy. She never felt so small as she stepped back. Come on, grow a spine! Xanthy coughed. "Um, must I go with them? I can be of help here with my magic."

Reksha Janos waved his hand. "Brownies aren't accustomed to battle," he said. One glance at Cyrdel and Ravalee told Xanthy enough that even the brownies themselves agreed. "It could get violent in here and you're the only one who can protect them as the Virtakios."

Xanthy shook her head, scoffing. "How do you even know everything about me?"

Reksha Janos smiled with his thin lips. "I see not with my eyes. I see with my soul. Believe me when I say the readings are clearer through my soul's windows."

The man with the staff swept it in front of Reksha Janos. "You and your strange ways. That is not how our synnavaim works."

Reksha Janos touched the crystal ball at the tip of the reksha's staff. It glowed green at the old man's touch. "Reksha Perrien, your mind is closed to certain things of this world. That makes you unable to see the beauty in things. I'm blind yet I see your soul. You're with sight yet you can't see what lies in front of you."

Ezril snorted. "Janos, we've strayed from the point," she turned back to Xanthy and her friends. "Kindly explain your ideas to Xanthiene."

Reksha Janos scratched at his thinning hair. "As I was saying, you brownies should sneak into Kymalin's camp tonight. Retrieve the shadows. Apprehend the thief if you can. Come back before the first light. Don't get into troubles that you can't get out of. Protect each other."

Xanthy nodded. Sucks that she couldn't sleep in until tomorrow. Reksha Janos tore his attention from them and turned to the varichria. "Rikavien," he started. "Reksha Ashryn and Reksha Keryth will attend to the matters regarding the defenses. I'd like you and June to help in any way you can."

"We need to get the evacuation done before the explosions start," Reksha Ashryn, the ponytail woman, jerked her chin at Reeca's direction.

Reeca nodded. June just stood there with an icy expression. His hand was resting against something on his hip.

Ezril brought her hands together on her la, her wide sleeves pooling atop her skirts. "I shall activate the barrier shortly. Tomorrow, we will march out to apprehend my daughter."

The Rekshais bowed as Ezril stood up from her throne. Xanthy and her friends did the same.

"And Crovalis," the High Priestess paused on her way off the dais to regard Cyrdel's still dipped frame. The prince drew up to meet Ezril's eyes. "Pray that we survive in a day before it's too late for your people."

With that, the High Priestess and the Rekshais walked off to another soul door behind the throne. In a flash, they all vanished. Xanthy caught Ravalee's eye and her half looked away.

A sigh escaped Xanthy's throat as the Precar that got them in was now striding towards them to guide them out.

Tomorrow's going to be a long day.