I sit absently in the chair, centered in the warmly lit room, as Pascal runs a comb through my thick hair. I hadn't given much thought to a haircut; the past few days had been consuming every moment of my spare time. I felt a surprising amount of calm, considering this would be my first time speaking as a 'would be' king for these people. Unrest had developed as we prepared to launch our assault on the machines that replaced so many of these people's jobs. 

Where there was assurance, there was also doubt. The thought had waivered in the back of my mind that people wouldn't want to go back to menial labor jobs that the machines occupied yet without the lower impact of humans, we would never right the immense amount of pollution the lumbering giants poured into the air.

The labor came at a higher price than convenience; the fragile structure of our plans lay at the mercy of the shimmery orb that sat on top of every 'Artifice' operated machine. A constant vigil, we could not gain an upper hand with so much surveillance. It was time to step away and claim independence from the laws that banned my existence.

 "Have you thought about what you want to say in your speech?" Her words bring me out of my musings. 

To make me look more the part, a haircut was in order. It was nearing my shoulders, and while Verando enjoyed the length, I preferred a more clean cut. She knew me well enough to know I'd look back on this and regret forgoing the measure. 

"I'm more concerned about Landon fulfilling his end of the deal. I feel we're putting a lot of faith in an adolescent." She scans my face, and I offer the slightest hint of a smile. "I feel quite ready for this speech."

In the mirror, perched carefully on the dresser, I see the face of a much older man than the one who had started this journey. My face looked fuller, my jaw more developed and my eyes wiser in their dark hue. 

"History foretold that you were quite young yourself." She comments, appealing to my softer side. I wasn't typically so critical, yet I found that anything that threatened the delicate balance earned my full wrath these days. 

"I was," I comment, admiring the shaved half of her head. The short locks, hardly reaching her cheekbone on the offside, billowing in a tangle of feathered edges and pale colors. The almost almond-shaped eyes regard me quietly as she trims the length with a pair of new scissors. "I was also surrounded by good people, as Landon is. I'm not counting him out yet, I'm just cautious, as we all should be."

These past few days with Landon had been informative, I had to hand it to the young man that he was quite a bit more in touch than I was at his age. Landon was a young genius in that he had done what we had been failing to do even with the government's own technology at our fingertips. Landon had been able to successfully block out Artifice, the friendliest and most invasive device known to man. 

With his own device, Gospel, he had successfully kept Artifice from tracking his movements simply by holding it entertained. The Gospel program was capable of short-circuiting the chatty AI in a matter of minutes simply by maxing out its processing power. Even though Artifice was well-designed, it was poorly kept. 

The brains that had invented it nearly a century ago had long since passed. The amount of human interference in today's society was at a bare minimum, most people worked assigned jobs, and those jobs didn't include the sensitive mainframe that kept them all under careful watch. 

After Caspian's takeover of the company, society had fallen to its knees under the threat of convenience. Simplicity was deadly in its silent nature, crippling the world with citizens who could no longer manage for themselves and making anyone who dares interfere an illegal citizen. It was no wonder we had not been able to find out who was behind this as Artifice has skillfully been designed to distract from its creator. 

It was doubtful, according to Landon, that anyone even understood who created the AI outside of a company.

Artifice truly did see all. 

Our time spent in the medical ward at Legardo's home had even been stored in a separate file, kept for purposes that sicken me to ponder as a good deal of the material was not fit for public consumption. Much as I wanted him to, I forbid Landon from erasing the footage. It would only raise suspicion if Caspian had kept it; he surely would be aware of its absence in his files.

 Addresses, names, aliases, accomplices, and our lives were documented in tiny tiles on a screen. 

How could I possibly come behind something so invasive with anything less than a complete reboot? 

Would these people accept a lack of government or demand the heads of everyone in power? 

A blade of hair falling in front of my vision distracts me, and I realize that Pascal has been talking. "You have a look on your face. One that says you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders." She lowers her face to press her cheek to mine. "Did you hear a word I said?" 

Innocently, I shrug one shoulder. "Sorry. I'm lost in thought, I suppose." I missed the silence of a court and the respect for allowing a king to gather his bearings. Perhaps a few years under a monarchy to restart things wouldn't be such a bad thing, this society was in desperate need of manners. 

As quickly as it comes to mind, it slips away. I could not possibly rule the entirety of the world, and there was no one else I trusted in a position of such power. Not even myself. 

Helen was scheduled to arrive today with our New  York branch, it would have to be enough to launch the full-scale attack that I was planning to unleash upon the public sector of our stronghold. We would officially step into 'dark mode', with the government's help to keep power, water, and plumbing operational. 

"You know, you really are quite handsome." She comments, causing me to blink back into reality. Ruffling my finished hair, she removes the smock from my shoulders. "Focus. We have more to do today than just a speech."

"I am focused. You keep distracting me." I remind her, adjusting my coat as I examine myself in the mirror. I feel underdressed in the oversized jacket coupled with the sweater layered over my thermals. Bulky, unfit for a king, but perhaps just suitable for the image I was trying to present. I consider my well-manicured hair and sigh as I brush my fingers through it to give it more volume and allow it to fall naturally to the side. "Do I look like someone who could understand what these people are going through?"

Pascal shrugs. "You look like someone who cares. I think that's going to have to be enough."

As we enter the pub, I make my way behind the bar and snag the Irish Creme to dump a shot or two in my coffee. Harrison, the pub owner, rolls his eyes, his gaze fixed on the television that almost threatens to drown out any idle conversation from our growing group. 

It pleases me to see our resident hacker, Landon, is not with him, indicating he's either working or resting. 

As I scan the colorful labels of the multiple alcoholic drinks, I spot a framed picture hidden behind the bottles. The dust covering it makes it difficult to make out, and I brush the bottles aside to pull them out, the aged frame catching my eye. Setting down my mug in favor of a dishrag, I wipe off the aged glass and tilt my head as I make out the two men drawn on the heavy canvas. 

"What do you have?" Lotta asks, her voice low, warning me to put back whatever I'd seen fit to grab. I glance at the government official, only to realize I'd pilfered through someone's belongings without asking.

"I-" I don't know why I felt it was my place to take it. Harrison holds out his hand though he doesn't look as upset as I imagined he would. "I'm sorry, it wasn't my place to look through your things."

Harrison grumbles as he takes the hem of his apron to wipe off the glass. The door to the pub swings open as Ryan and Sulema enter with Helen and her family in tow. "Papa Nic!!" The high pitched voice startles me, I can't believe they would bring children yet I know that this will very soon be my own life. 

Where else would the children go? 

Silvia runs to me, and I extend my arms to lift her and hug her close to my chest. She smells of strawberries and youth, her hair bouncing in big, heavy curls.

As she pushes away, her expression becomes solemn. "You don't look like a king...?" She wrinkles her nose at Helen accusingly. 

I happily accept the second hug, almost unwilling to let Helen go. 

"Well, the store was fresh out of robes, unfortunately." I attempt, kissing Helen's cheek as she returns the gesture. 

Tyler does a half-hearted bow, "Your Majesty." He greets with a grin. "Seems like we're finally going to get some action." 

I chuckle genuinely, "What were we doing in New York? That wasn't 'action-packed' enough for you? " 

The overbearing feeling of dread had begun to lift with their arrival. Legardo appears, Briley close to his side, holding onto Xavier as he pulls in the remainder of their luggage. 

I set Silvia down to hurriedly approach, my hands almost trembling with anticipation. 

Legardo's light eyes meet mine, and he looks so much like his father that I feel physically ill from missing the man. Briley hands over the baby, who looks to have tripled in size. His pale eyes are open, losing the dark blue and turning almost crystal. His hair is sooty, trending more towards black than gray. I strip out of my coat as quickly as I can manage while still defensively holding the bundle that felt so fragile and yet so sturdy. 

"He's not here, is he?" Legardo sounds disappointed. 

I greet Marcello with a nod as I think of the words I want to say, kissing the small head repeatedly. It surprised me to see our retired veteran, we hadn't heard much from him since he'd been forced to change. The scar on his neck made me shudder at the memory.

 "He went to Spain to recruit more people. There's a vampire coven there that we think could have a lead on more magic users. We've been holding down the fort here." 

Seeming to accept this, he gestures to Briley to help him with their suitcases, and Tyler rushes over.

Helen tickles the nose of the little boy over my shoulder, her smile gentle. "He's a good baby. Very quiet. Likes to watch everything."

"Rowan was like that." I sigh. "Just like their father."

It appears I'm not the only one who has aged. Helen, somehow, looks more mature. As if running things on her own has aged her. While her large eyes still hold wonder and innocence, she lacks the girlish hue of timid reservation. There's a quietness about her, she reminds me of my own face from this morning, the weight of the world square on her shoulders. 

"I've missed you and Papa so much." She rests her cheek against mine from over my shoulder, and in a very lycan way, she leans on me in the 'pressing' I often see her do to Tyler. It's an affectionate thing, a bonding process. I welcome the warmth happily as I observe the half-sleeping baby boy. 

"We have both missed you. Not a day goes by I don't think about you. How's it going? Have you made progress?" Her eyes cloud over with discomfort. "That bad?"

Slipping away from her grasp on me, she brushes her hair back and folds her arms to hug herself. "It's not that. It's going well... I.. think I'm good at this." 

Patiently I wait, rocking Xavier as I brush his cheek with the back of one of my fingers. I had dreamed of this moment for so long; I'd hold him until it was impossible. 

"It's Tyler. I feel so selfish even thinking this way. I feel like..." Quickly, she makes sure he's occupied with her family; he chases Silvia around the table as she squeals and giggles. "He doesn't take this seriously. He doesn't take me seriously."

I wish my marital problems were so simple, yet I can see her pain. Verando had never expected to carry my weight; if anything, he was too ready to allow me to defend myself, much as he'd like to protect me from everything. 

"It's not selfish to want to be treated with respect. Solomonari are supposed to be peaceful; Tyler is a bit more traditional than you're used to." Her lips parted, and I offered her my best sympathetic look. "It's not an excuse or an apology. I know firsthand what it is to need something you can't explain." 

Her face smooths, accepting this as a 'we will talk later.' 

Legardo lingers as she returns to the group to introduce herself to our new members, like a good Alpha. I feel like I've been missing this: the bustle of multiple minds coming together to form a solution. I had felt so painfully alone in this since Verando left for Spain; as the pub began to fill with more and more of our members, our odds seemed to grow exponentially. 

We could do this, we could beat this.  I could hear the voice in my head: we could not allow everyone to stay here. We would need to find a secondary shelter. 

"Johnathan Campbell is arriving with the second wave of our people. I can't believe we're about to do this." It's Grayson who speaks, my least favorite of the twin pair. Pascal was so much more redeeming than the electrical mage. My eyes were trained on my son; I hadn't noticed him.

Clutching Xavier closer to me, I force myself to compose myself. "Do not disturb me, Grayson. I don't wish to speak to you." 

In a swift motion, I catch Pascal's attention, and she sighs as she approaches me quickly to remove her brother. His hands raise in innocence. 

"I'm just debriefing our future king." 

I don't believe that for a moment. He half bows; my skin crawls as his eyes scan me. 

"Do not leave my side," I command Pascal firmly.  "Put a watch detail on your brother immediately, warn Lotta the next time she comes close, do not allow him to be without a guard. He's up to something."

 Ignoring the shock on her face, I do not want Grayson to stand over me in the middle of the night. 

"Finish his debriefing; what have you learned?"

Her expression tells me that she knows very little. She's been too busy catching up socially to know what to expect from the movement of our remaining members. "I-"

Disappointment clouds my face. "Just because Verando is not here does not mean I'm allowing protection and promptness to slack. If anything, it is more important now than ever. We are mobilizing today; we can not afford this type of mistake. Put everyone to work immediately, get Lotta on secondary housing for these newcomers, and start pairing people on a rotation to keep watch. Artifice will pick up all this activity; we should expect a counter-attack."

"You think he will attack us?"

My lips pull into a thin line, "Pray he does, for it will prove he is losing control."

I can only hope that it triggers our in-hiding heroes to step up and become functioning members of our team rather than lurking in the shadows. We could use all the help we can get.

"Get Fadri and Avril to start sorting through magic users and assemble our human cohorts for the conference tonight in front of the grand tree."

She bows, stress clear on her brow. "Anything else?"

"Protection for the children and nighttime patrol. Utilize lycan ability at a premium, but do not rely on it. We've got to start doing more for ourselves."

Harrison clears his throat, patting me firmly on the back. "I'll take care of the children. I gotta safe bunker under ma pub."

As hospitable as Harrison had been, leaving my son with him was something I wasn't entirely sold on. "That's very kind of you, but..." I glance at the now sleeping boy, more protective now than ever. How could I trust him with anyone but me and his father? 

Obviously, we had Legardo, but he would need to protect his own children. 

He hands me the picture, his expression gentle. "Long ago, you were lotted with one of ma kin." The two men are drawn quite expertly, though it's done in sketch style with simple colors. Verando and Tomas, the Irish man bearing a sizeable goofy grin and my favorite look plastered on my warlord's face.

 "It'a been some time, for sure, but I'd say he was twelves time mah grandsire. He started this pub before ta drink found 'em. He passed it down for generations, long with the resistance deep in mah bones as anyone else who follows the drink. We're not banditi, but as I said before, where there is liquor, there is usually a friend. Tomas and Penelope started that resistance, along with a man named Acer." 

I had always imagined that Penelope and Tomas would have stayed in Romania, thinking back, it didn't make sense that they ever would have come to France but the longer I dwell the more the truth begins to settle on me. Tomas and Verando were best friends, and at one time, Penelope and I were as well. We had both 'died' here, and my home had turned into a dictatorship; it would make sense for them to flee to a place where they could be close to us. 

My breath catches in my throat. The past haunts us, a continuous cycle of meeting ghosts. Looking at Harrison, I don't even see a resemblance to Tomas save for the aged hair that might have once been red. "Do we know what happened to Rowan?"

Harrison makes a face, "Yer askin' about someone I woulda never known. It's not safe for yer enemies to know yer kin. It was never recorded that Tomas and Penelope had children, yet here I stand, a descendant twelve generations past. You'd be wise to remember that." He eyes Xavier, and I hold the boy firmly to my heart as if to shield him from the air itself.

 "There is one more thing I need to tell ya." Placing the picture on the counter, he flips it over and carefully removes the frame's backing. 

I wait on bated breath, terrified his rough hands will damage it. "The line ends with me; I have no one to pass this on. Verando, your husband, instructed Tomas on a Nordic tribe of lycans or shapeshifters out in Iceland. It is one of the last holdouts; almost all communication has been cut off. If this goes south... if there's nothin' left..." 

He hands me the faded, aged piece of paper. It feels so brittle in my hand; I trace my thumb over the quill ink.

Shaking my head, I hand the paper back to him to put it where it belongs. "If this fails, there will be nothing left. The unicorn will die; no life can survive without the balance the unicorn brings. There will be nowhere to run."

We've gained some attention as the entire room has gone quiet; everyone stares, unashamed, as if the information is new to them. One never gets used to hearing such a statement. I will be giving more than one speech today.

 "Our friends from the past speak to us in the form of their blood, carried on into this time through tradition and sacrifice. This cause did not begin here; this has been building for as long as there has been magic and a fear of it." 

It seemed so hopeless, yet the battle had survived the sands of time. Good always triumphs over evil. "Today, we declare war on discrimination. Today, we declare war on the demonization of anyone who dares stand up for their right to exist. We will dismantle the Artifice program. Starting today, we will be more than tiles on a screen. 

Everyone needs to prepare themselves; there will be vengeance. I do not doubt that Caspian will be beside himself," 

The thought alone threatens to make me chuckle. If anyone deserved to have unrest, it was that foul creature. 

"But there will also be victory. We will make history, the day magic users and humans came together to end this plague on our nations."

"Honor the Good King," Ryan responds soundly. 

"Prepare yourselves." I challenge them. "Today, we fight back."

"Honor the Good King!"