I sat in a quaint white gazebo, lounging in the afternoon heat. The air was ever so slightly leaning toward being uncomfortable, but the shade and the persistent winds sweeping across the grounds kept me from entering that state for more than a moment. A minor annoyance to be sure, though not one that I would actually complain about.

Mainly because no one would care, but also because the only one who could do anything about it, I was reluctant to bring up the topic with her. What would I even do, lean over and ask in a pleading voice, "Kanieta, would you kindly cool me down? Pretty please, I'm too hot." Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. I would rather bake. Also, it wasn't like I didn't have distractions to occupy my mind.

I honestly didn't realize how many people were working within the estate. Or I guess it could be that people from outside the estate were being hired temporarily. Whatever the answer was, hundreds of individuals marched through the grounds.

Many were carrying crates, poles, barrels, or other miscellaneous items, taking them to who knew where. Though that was far from everyone. Different kinds of performers were setting out equipment in what felt like every patch of grass available. From what I could tell, with my admittedly extremely limited experience, the performers included fire dancers, acrobats, several types of sword dancers, and a few categories I didn't recognize at all, though I assumed they would be skilled.

Others were setting up tables, tents, and braziers in the largest areas, clearly meant for people to gather for food, drink, and music if the stages were any indication. Even if I didn't try, I could pick out the sound of nails being hammered into wood or the ground.

With all of that, I would have thought that would be the end of it. What else was there to do? Apparently, there was the maintenance of the grounds themselves. Teams of gardeners were marching around, holding their clippers, rakes, and stupidly small hand shovels like they were going to war.

Every colored rock that was out of place, they took the time to move back to its brethren. Blades of grass taller than their neighbors and branches of bushes that did not align with whatever creative shape the rest of the plant was supposed to be in were snipped. Snipped and carefully collected so as to not leave a single trace of the maintenance.

To me, that was going a bit far, but it was what it was, and it did make the paths look clean and well-maintained. What I found ridiculous was that the gardeners would shake bushes so that any loose leaves would fall, and then they would collect them as well. Every action was taken with the utmost seriousness, as if failure or subpar results would mean the difference between life and death.

Even if I wasn't the social outcast of the manor, the staff was far too busy to concern themselves with fetching me a fan or a knight to serve as my personal cooler. And I would have felt somewhat bad asking the obviously hard-working and busy men and women to do something so petty for me. And it would be petty, as I would only ask for the purpose of causing them problems.

"Green?" Kanieta asked, drawing my attention away from where I was watching a man pick leaves out of a pond. Turning my head and raising my eyebrow in question, she sighed and said, "I asked you, what are your thoughts on the appearance of the dark elf?"

I shrugged indifferently, then turned my head back to my idle examination of the workers, "What is there to say? We already assumed they were here. Now we know. Either some nobles are actively helping them of their own free will, or they are under mental compulsion. As of now, we can only warn others and wait for whatever their plan is to come to fruition."

"You aren't even going to try and stop their machinations?" Kanieta asked, sounding disappointed and reproachful. "Don't you care about your people?"

"What can I do, Kanieta? The inquisitor right there can't do anything. He didn't even know they were here, and from what I can tell, his organization is either incompetent or—

"Careful." Redgenald cut in, his voice hard as he gave a meaningful glance around. "I do not care what you say, as I know…" He sighed and looked pained at the admission, "that they are not without some merit. However, should your words reach the wrong ears, you will wish that they simply killed you."

"Anyway," I coughed, my throat suddenly going dry as I hastily glanced around. "I am one man. An elf commoner to boot. The greatest achievement of my life is the small amount of influence I have earned with your people. And most of mine cannot look past my race to view me as a tool that could help them gain influence with you. They can not comprehend that you would view me as anything but a useful servant. Pretty reasonable assumption, really, given what I have been doing lately."

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"Is that what you think? That you are nothing, and I am only keeping you around as a servant?" Glancing up to look at the foxkin, I found her back straight and eyes narrowed in anger, her left ear repeatedly twitching to the side. I opened my mouth to deny her accusation, as to me, I had been making an impartial observation of recent events. Nothing to get emotional over.

But the woman didn't let me speak as she continued, "Green, you need to understand, you are not a scout anymore, even if you have yet to discard the title. You are no simple Olimpian. You could be far more important than even I originally thought. The first person capable of truly reshaping the world in millennia. Yet, with all of your hard-won skills and potential, you are trapped by your own insecurities. Open your eyes and see what is before you. Stop demeaning yourself, and by extension, me and the Kin. Because no matter how interested I am in working together with you and discovering the truths of the world by doing so, I will not risk my people's future by relying on an individual who insists on limiting himself by claiming to be a servant. Take some pride in your actions and abilities, and grow a spine."

Having finished speaking, Kanieta stood and strode away. I said nothing as I watched her fiery hair and back recede. Honestly, I couldn't say a word due to the overwhelming embarrassment and shame. Her words held the air of truth to them, and that meant that they struck me all the harder.

Turning to Redgenald, I saw him scrutinizing me, his face blank. "Got something to say?" I asked, my voice clipped.

"Yes, actually," the man responded. "Normally, this wouldn't be my place, and I wouldn't give a shit, but we are in a unique position, and any disturbances could spell disaster for us. You are making unnecessary disturbances. I don't know what makes you special to the Kin, but I know that something does. Even if you hide behind being an elf, eventually, other people of note will discover your secret, or at least that you have one, as well. I would suggest that you stop hiding and making a scene, because the more people who know your secret, the less valuable it becomes." With that, the reaper also got up and started walking along one of the paths leading to this gazebo, leaving me alone. Or so I thought.

"He has a point." Franklin rumbled, climbing over the railing and plopping onto the seat next to me. "Pretending to be something you're not can only bring anxiety and sorrow."

"The fuck did you come from?"

The Kin shrugged, "Saw you three leaving and thought there might be food, so I followed. Then I fell asleep while waiting for it to arrive."

Choosing to move past his comment, I said, "Well, if any was going to show up, it isn't going to now."

"Yeah, I figured as much. No one seems to be willing to serve you outside of the sight of someone important. Same goes for me."

"You know what, I could go for some food. They have to be making something in the kitchen for tomorrow; if we show up and make a nuisance of ourselves, the staff will probably give us something to get us to leave."

"Hmm," Growled the badgerkin, "now you are speaking my language, lead the way."

Chuckling to myself, I got up, and we began moving through the garden paths, annoying the gardeners as we ruined their efforts. They were frantically raking the dirt paths in their attempts to make them appear nearly but not quite perfect. The former implied someone spending a lot of time to make it just so, while the latter made it seem like you had just hired a knight terra to cast the ground. It was stupid, but I was getting used to it.

As we walked, Franklin and I fell into an idle conversation about the best food that we had experienced since arriving. The badger even surprised me by going into quite some depth with the layering of flavors from the different types of delicacies he had sampled. Really, after he started discussing how a specific wine perfectly complemented the braised lamb we had yesterday, I was lost. But it was interesting enough that I lost track of time, at least until we arrived at the front courtyard of the manor.

The large circle with a road leading off the side heading toward the stables was nothing I hadn't seen before. Up until the whinnying of horses sounded, and a carriage thundered its way up to the house. As I watched, the coachman pulled back on the reins of the lathered horses, causing them to rear up while still sliding forward.

Not that any of that seemed to matter to the occupants of the carriage, as before it could come to anything approaching a stop, the door slammed open, and I only caught a blur of motion heading toward the front doors. Without warning, an explosion of dust filled the center of the driveway, and the blurr shot off to the side, where it came to a stop feet before Senator Ponpti.

I didn't know what help I could be, but my hand dropped to my sword hilt, and I took a step, only staggering to a stop a moment later as I processed the blur of motion had turned into a decidedly disheveled high lady. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with makeup, either from sweat or tears, and her clothes looked as though they were fraying, probably from their recent experience at insane speeds.

Other than the apparent show of power, I would always have assumed she was a high noble, as that air of born supremacy and authority was not something you could mimic with ease. Before I could make up my mind to continue approaching or slink off to the shadows, the woman dropped to her knees and wailed, "Victorus, you have to stop them! Please, you have to stop them!"

The Senator looked baffled as he stepped forward and leaned down to help the woman to her feet. Though he did not shout, I was close enough to hear him as he said, "Vanessa, what is this about? What has gotten into you?"

Head tilting up to the senator, the woman looked at him with desperation, "The Senate is sending two of their remaining senatorial guard legions to confront the 14th Legion and bring it to heel. They say Lord Fridgia has led it on a rampage across a dozen nobles' holdings, leaving nothing but scorched earth in his wake. Victorus, they are planning on killing him and his men!"

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