October, Year 483
Battlefront
Auro
North

Corey had started to wonder what the point of it all was—the fear, the planning, the anticipation—when everything could be decided by the turn of a hand. His father's hand, the hand of a man-made god.

He still remembered the panic that had seized him a month ago when he had gotten news of Nicia's annihilation. His world had come crashing down. Five years of work rallying the people to his side, reduced to ashes in just one moment.

He had been on verge of loosing his mind. He had nearly cried.

Then to make things worse, The Order had dismissed his request for them to send priests to placate the masses and had instead encouraged those infidels preaching about 'the new end'. The information was sourced out of nowhere, and despite it being neither scriptural nor factual it was enough to whip all who heard it into a frenzy.

It took Corey all he had not to storm the New Order residence and track down his father. Instinctively, he knew that there was no way the brewing rebellion had nothing to do with his father. The tired old man seemed to have nothing better to do than to toy with his children's lives and watch the world go up in flames.

Knowing that damage control was not one of his strong suits, Corey had decided to ignore public opinion about his indifference. Instead of starting what could have been the beginning of the end for him and his career as minister, he wisely chose to transfer all the load, as well as all the blame, to his very willing vice minister.

Till now, Corey was surprised that Gideon had been the first to see through his facade as an incompetent ruler. He had always been sure of the general's capabilities both on and off the field, but he still had confidence in his own acting skills.

Logically, Gideon was too proud to take time to analyze his behavior and come to such a conclusion even if he had a hundred years to observe him.

He had to have gotten help.

Corey had no doubt his father had provided it but the why of everything still confused him. His father had set plans in motion to destroy North yet he also gave Gideon a reason to interfere, why?

The vice minister had handled the situation with The Order like he always did—with the practiced ease that came with experience. Till now the remnants of the populace were unaware that they were all that was left of North.

Missing friends, spouses and relatives were readily accounted for, excuses given when contact was attempting. The civilians were either too trusting or too gullible to not believe it.

Deceit was the only thing about Gideon's methods that rubbed Corey the wrong way, but he couldn't deny that it was effective. At the very least, it wasn't something he could have done himself.

Any other situation, he could handle. Not just that particular one. Not just Nicia being wiped out.

The way his calm had slowly crumbled the moment he started to process how to tell Dawn that the man she loved was probably dead, buried under the rubble of his own research, still scared him.

He was the minister of North, a single death shouldn't affect him to the point that he couldn't carry out his duties, but even now he couldn't help but wonder.

Had Elton been in Nicia when it ceased to exist. If he hadn't been, where was he now? Was he still alive?

Corey didn't want to think that he was dead. He couldn't.

If Elton was dead what was the point of all this strife and manipulation? What would the future look like without his best friend secretly guiding his hand?

Without Elton, Corey lost sight of the future? That was why he had been so eager to obtain the Book Of Revelations. Maybe with it, he would be able to carry on. Maybe with it he could find Elton's location.

If he did nothing to fight back, wasn't he simply dancing to his father's tune? Corey knew how vast his father's mind was, how many possibilities he took into account for just one course of action.

Elton's brain had been capable of matching that. It gave Corey the upper hand.

Was Nicia targeted on purpose? Just to kill Elton? It was plausible. There was nothing Julius Roya couldn't do.

"Blast him."

Since he made the decision to keep Elton away from the capital, Corey always had a lingering fear that Dawn would hate him. Right now though, he was certain that she would hate him for what he was about to do.

"Blast the both of them."

"Minister," the sound almost made him jump, and he would have if there had been any space to move.

Corey bit his lower lip and his gaze fell to the buttons blinking beneath his palm before he started to think of what to say in reply.

The Chain is still on, he reminded himself. At this point, he could only hope that no one heard what he had said. He wasn't known for cursing and he done do twice tonight.

"Yes?" Corey turned in his little cockpit to get blood flowing into his stiff joints. He knew that his FCM would not follow the movement without him touching the buttons scattered around the joystick on the dashboard.

The large, armoured robot was too much of a hassle to control through telekinesis alone and the configuration of fine movement took ages to learn, that was the only reason why FCM pilots were so sought after.

As the sound of his voice fell away, a white screen projected along the glass that domed the cockpit and the face of Lord Maudlin scrunched up in disgust filled the space between the minister's eyes.

"Tell me again," there was a pause followed by the crinkling sound that came with the decryption of a high profile line, "what the mother-loving Code we are doing here by four in the morning?"

Corey sighed and minimized the screen with a single thought. It shrunk down and filed itself to the side of the screen as he narrowed his gaze at the thermo-scans that had now popped up in front of him.

After three hours he had finally managed to get rid of the anxiety that ate at him with each second that passed as he waited for Rhea Lee to step into the capital, he didn't have the strength to deal with the council.

For every minute it took for his father to call back and update him on Dawn's condition, a part of him withered away and died.

He needed to do something, fast. A makeshift plan began to form in the midst of the thoughts juggling between controlling the FCM and ignoring the nobles that had access to his feed.

"Answer me, dammit," Lord Maudlin said, his irritation carrying through the static.

The minister recoiled at the screech that blared through his speakers, eyes focused as his hands flew over the buttons on the panel in front of him. "Watch your radar."

It was only the two of them on guard duty tonight. Even though the camp was relatively safe, there were still little skirmishes going on where soldiers wandering around the perimeter got pulled out of the shields and into the surrounding fog. Those men were never found again.

That was all the proof they needed. The enemy was still out there, silent and watching.

Corey knew in his heart that his true purpose for being out here was to find  an excuse to breakaway and rush to the skeletal remains of the capital building. His veins itched to raze the already-burnt structure to the ground and scorch it's enemies with azure flames. He wanted to end this war now before it escalated to a level that was beyond his control.

But that was not only reason that Corey had volunteered to scout the area for enemy agents. His soul had been praying for some action ever since he allowed himself to acknowledge that his prized kingdom was falling, and yet it seemed that things were moving at the slowest pace possible.

Despite being out here for four hours, nothing had happened. He and his team had circled the perimeter over a dozen times yet not so much as a pebble had shifted in that time.

He was just about to announce that it was time to return to base when he spotted something along the periphery of his scans.

Before he could investigate or warn the others, his FCM was smashed backwards, hit by a large unknown object that had leapt from the damp, dreary fog. Immediately, Corey's thoughts went to Dawn like it always did when she wasn't nearby and he found himself in sticky situations.

Lose the capital and I kill her. He still remembered his rage when he heard those words pour out of his bracelet the moment the line to his father had connected. He had almost damned the Code right then and there, damned his father too—to him they were the same thing at this point, one being.

How stupid of me to ever have trusted him. Pulling back on his control stick, Corey's fingers smashed into the keys in front of him, instinctively knowing that the FCM wouldn't work without the combination of both actions and telekinesis even though it had been almost six years since he had last touched such a beautiful, well-tuned machine.

"Richard," he titled his hand to the side and his machine skidded to an easy stop. The night was illuminated by the pulsing blue light that emanated from the giant metal contraption. "Watch your six."

"Blast you."

Corey chuckled and flexed his fingers, letting go of the FCM's controls as it was juggled around by an invisible force. It was easier to go along with the attacks than actively block them. The FCM had enough shielding to withstand such light blows.

He wasn't worried. Yet. "I never knew you to curse."

"Just because I have 'Noble' in my title," the Lord's heavy breathing poured through the speakers, the grating of metal in the background almost overpowering his next words. "Damn it. . . Corey, I'm surrounded."

The minster's eyes landed on the small monitor above his head and the moment he accessed the situation, he powered down his FCM and let it fall. The impact of the machine on the ground formed a deep crater and displaced soil, but that wasn't enough to interfere with the scans.

The red dots that surrounded Corey didn't lie.

"Bless the Code."

He was about to be taken prisoner.

†