Cill, the very girl whose words had pursued the mediora sage Toma, sat quietly in her study, grading papers and skimming through some documents. Most students did terribly, not a comprehensive thought put to ink. Instead, they regurgitated whatever their teachers were feeding them like sheep.

There was a time when to be a student of a sage, you had to master the ability to soak up knowledge like a sponge and put it into practice in a way that nobody else but that very person could have come up with. An identity, that's what was lacking in the current-day roundtable mages and knights. Lifted to their ranks for no more than a family name, the student and even the minora sages were nothing but puppets to the upper sages.

'The queen's death will send the kingdom into a downward spiral into chaos. Both the roundtable mages and roundtable knights will tussle for more contracts in each other's domain if the sages don't round up their act.' Though her plan was to put Glyea in front of the public as the potential queen, Cill was no stranger to the politics that come from trying to claim such a place. 'We have the royalty in our palms, but some are bound to defect.'

Dipping her quill in an inkwell, she kept signing the papers with a flourish. A flurry of final strokes, and her task was done, but her mind wouldn't let her rest, for there was plenty for her to think about before the savior of Luminos arrived at their doorsteps. Setting the quill down, she adjusted her nightlamp to be slightly dimmer.

Finally at rest and alone in that quiet, she leaned forward with her chin resting on the back of her hands. Her eyes narrowed, and she kept circling back to one little problem in her entire plan.

"That girl doesn't have a family, just a brother…" Pursing her lips, she glanced at the oil lamp as it crackled while burning some grime caught in its wick. "Natural causes don't fit right; we need something more heroic to push her forward."

Staring into the dancing flame, she smiled to herself.

"Great, now I just need to get her brother on track." Sifting through papers, Cill separated Glyea's brother's paper from the rest. Placing it on the side, she quickly bound the other before returning to his sheet. "A thorough examination would do."

Taking her reading glasses out of one of the drawers in her table, she began re-examining his sheet with an obtusely critical eye. Marking him down everywhere possible, and even erasing his answers with a clarifying magic and then writing gibberish on the sheet herself.

With one hand, she wrote and marked–the other she moved over to the lamp. Undoing the lamp's cap, she pressed her arm against the circular mouth and let a burn form on her skin. Shifting angles to make it seem more natural, Cill bit through the hurt until her skin was sufficiently bruised by the flame.

Retracing her hand, she moved it around and took a good look at the now wrinkled skin. It was hurting as if a brand had been pressed against her skin, but the burn was a small price to pay for what she hoped to get out of the situation.

"Now then, time to burn a manor…" Looking to her side, she eyed a maid standing in the dark. Nodding her head, the woman opened her eyes for the first time since she'd entered that room that day. "See if the Glintsmiths had any properties outside the capital–a holiday house maybe. If so, have one of those Mercenaries burn it to the ground, then have another group murder them. But make sure that the second group doesn't know what the first one's mission was. And I shouldn't have to tell you this, but the murder should happen in the city and must look like a natural feud between the two groups."

Nodding without saying a word, the maid walked over to the wardrobe and used her key to open it. Opening a safe inside with another key she held, the maid took out a pouch of gold and locked everything before leaving.

Watching her in silence, Cill breathed a sigh of relief. What better servant could she have asked for than her own mute sister, who didn't dare question a word? However, her loyalty wasn't due to their closeness but rather their march towards a similar goal–a goal that not even the Saint Majora knew of–a goal that could…

'We will topple these degraded systems. Then, she will be happy with us, sister, just you wait.' One step at a time, and the tower shall crumble, swept away from right under their feet without them ever having a chance to even realize it. 'Great grandmother, a few more weeks and–'

Crumbling her thoughts into a thousand pieces, a knock echoed from her door. Turning in her chair with her expression contorted, she leaned forward in her chair and called out to the person on the other end.

"Come in."

As the door opened, standing before her was none other than Sage Mediora, Toma Pletiean. Scarcely dressed in a faint white veil that left almost nothing to the imagination, the sage walked inside her room while Cill was still struggling to comprehend what was happening. Visible through the thin film of fabric, the person's skin was fair as a maiden's. And yet where there should've been genitals, there was nothing, and as for the top, it had feminine features along with feminine charm as well.

"Minora Cill, I hope I didn't wake you up."

"No… You didn't," with a nervous gulp, Cill rose from her chair and stood straight. "Please come in. I will get the door."

"Very well, we have lots to discuss after all…" Smiling an eerily still smile, Sage Mediora made her way deeper into the room. "Pardon my attire, they restrict my movement and my strength–I often prefer to be this way when I'm on my own."

Taking a seat where Cill had been sitting, Toma watched the minora sage closing the door. Then, while she was returning, its eyes turned to the papers on the desk and the lamp that reeked of charred hair.

"What do we have here?" It muttered, picking up the brother's paper and taking a better look at the magic-altered sheet.

'Fuck!' Having not expected it to show up on her doorstep, Cill began to panic but refused to let it show on her face.

Even so, smelling something foul, Toma turned her head and asked.

"Care to explain this, or shall I pick your memories myself?" Extending its fingers, Toma unsheathed metallic nails long enough to pierce Cill in the chest and come out on the other end. "Sit and talk, I'm not too fond of waiting, Miss Losso, neither is the Sage Majora."

Cill's heart stilled as Toma patted her lap and caressed its thigh, urging her to sit on it and explain everything while its fingers danced right by her head. Gripped with fear and yet steadfast, the sage nodded with a smile and surrendered herself to whatever fate she brought upon herself.

'You won't die here, Cill. It's too soon!' She promised herself, but whether she could hold it or not now depended on how well she could convince sage Mediora.

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