Sailormoon, its characters, struggles and story, are copyright and
the children of Naoko Takeuchi. No recognition to this tale can be
given without properly paying honour to her first. They are
rightfully hers and I respect how she has raised them all. May what
I have written here, the dark and the light, be considered worthy
as a token of my appreciation for the world she has created.


His lordship Chaos / Angel Electric
01 - The Mistress of Moonlight

Rated PG13.


*****


Everything has changed
For in truth, it's the beginning of nothing
And nothing has changed
Everything has changed...

	--David Bowie, "Sunday"

*****


	The boy knew voices.
	Only voices.
	He had been blindfolded for days now, at least he thought it
had been days since they'd taken him, ripped him from his warm
bedroom. The only doll he could cuddle up with now were the shadows
and the noises. He was frightened, no mistake. He was scared out of
his mind. Scared of so many things. Scared of being hurt. Scared
that they might remove the blindfold, only to take his eyes. Scared
that they might take more than just his eyes.
	He could not remove the blindfold; they had shackled his
wrists behind his back. All he could do was walk as they pushed him
from one holding pen into another. His entire body would stiffen
whenever he felt a hand reaching out for him and grab hold of the
collar of his shirt. But they would only hoist him onto his feet
and push him down winding corridors. They had yet to do anything to
him.
	Though they were debating.
	Always debating.
	His eyes were effectively gone, and he could no longer rely
on them. He gambled his entire life on his ears and what fragments
of words they could scavenge from the air. From what his ears
whispered to him, there were five, perhaps six different voices.
Two were mere lackeys, underlings who served no higher purpose save
to guard him when he was tossed into a corner to sleep or sit and
wait. Those two voices grew bored very easily, and talked of idle
things.
	Two other voices belonged to strange girls who talked of
turning rubies into rust, and the rust into roses. He did not
understand them. Their voices were lofty, and playful and evil, and
chilled his heart, as if they knew he was listening even when he
pretended to sleep. He was very much afraid of them.
	One voice belonged to a man, and all he knew was wrath. He
was always impatient. He wanted to kill the boy, slowly, painfully,
and so the boy always held his breath whenever he heard this man
approach. This man always argued death, but was held back by
another. The boy feared him too, but not as much as he did those
two girls.
	The last discernable voice belonged to another woman. She was
the one who held the man back from killing him outright. That did
not mean the boy trusted her. Her voice was smart, smarter than any
other voice he'd ever heard before. She talked casually of conquest
and bloodshed and glory. Such casual talk always ended with her
seemingly turning to him and adding how he was the key.
	He was not afraid of her.
	He was afraid of what she wanted to do to him.
	For what might have been days, perhaps even weeks, he'd been
escorted from one room to another. Most had different sounds, but
he knew there were three specific rooms he always found himself in.
One was where he was fed three meals a day, and guarded by the two
bored voices. One belonged to the two strange girls who talked as
if they were living a daydream, and he recalled little of what went
on in there. The last belonged to the woman determining his fate.
	He may have been a boy, only eight or nine at best.
	More than that, he was a boy who was a fast learner.
	He was a thinker, perhaps more than they gave him credit for.
	He had learned when to resist, and when to follow obediently.
He also learned how far he could resist, depending on the voice.
He'd learned that he was usually in someplace underground, cool and
dry, so it was not a cave and not a mine. There were cobblestone
walls and floors that echoed when he walked, so it was probably the
ruins of some dying castle. There was the eternal, unchanging roar
of distant waters, and he could taste faint traces of salt in the
air; he knew he was by the shores.
	His ears kept him alive.
	His memories kept him sane.
	Whenever he opened his eyes, all he saw was darkness, the
inside of his blindfold. His mind painted pictures of his mother
and father. He always saw his mother smiling at him, the long curls
of auburn hair framing the sides of her face. He had his mother's
eyes, bright blue eyes. He always saw his father pacing back and
forth, a scholar whose classroom was the world, and more than
seeing a smile, the boy heard his father's deep, calculating voice
speak of lectures and nature and duty.
	The boy remembered his mother's smile, and it brought warmth
whenever he shivered in the corner of his prison. The boy
remembered his father's voice, and it brought the focus he needed
to escape.
	When the idle guards attended to him, they jingled a ring
with a single key, one that opened the bars of his cell. It only
jingled whenever they opened and closed the cell door, so he knew
it was hanging somewhere on the wall to his left. He also knew that
the bored voices would often grow distant and fade away, only to
return minutes later; the guards were walking the corridors and
leaving him alone. It was only a matter of time before he could
find a way to get the key and loose his shackles.
	One night he waited and the bored voices left once more.
	The length of their leisurely walks had increased.
	They believed he was a victim, and not a threat.
	As the voices faded, the boy's lips were pursed into a thin,
desperate smile. It was the first time he had smiled since they'd
stolen him from his bedroom. He sat up and dragged himself away
from the wall. No one heard the dull pop that came moments later
from his cell, nor did any ears hear the muffled cries of pain as
the boy bit down and tried not to scream as he dislocated his right
shoulder.
	The shoulder had been popped out of joint maybe six months
earlier, when he'd been thrown by a horse--a stallion, black as the
night and faster than any nightmare chasing after him in his
dreams. It had been caught in the wild, and he was the one chosen
to break it in, for it was to be his horse. The horse was stubborn,
possessing a fiery spirit. He shared the same disposition.
Unfortunately, at the time, the horse had raw power over him.
	Now that injury, that weakness, was his strength.
	With his shoulder dislocated, his right arm hung loose, and
he could slide his wrists out beneath his pelvis and around his
legs. The desire to tear the blindfold from his eyes was great,
almost maddening, but he knew his eyes would become a distraction.
There was one thing he had to do first.
	He bit down once more, and rammed his right shoulder into the
wall. With another pop, and this time a sharp cracking noise, he
set the joint back into place. The pain was greater then, and he
almost screamed. Somehow he kept his agony to a whimper, and curled
up into a ball on the floor.
	The guards had not yet returned.
	Their voices were nowhere to be heard.
	The boy rose back to his feet, wincing through the pain,
hating it and hating the cold stone floor, and hating the voices
dancing around him. His wrists still shackled, he tore the
blindfold from his eyes and blinked at the trickles of light
filtering through the hallway.
	It was indeed a corridor underground, the tunnel high and
arched, and he was merely in a barred alcove it passed by. Torches
lined the upper echelons of the corridor, and everything shimmered
not grey, but silver. He could still hear the distant sounds of the
tidal shores.
	The boy spent a few minutes letting his eyes adjust to the
sudden change of light. Details overwhelmed him, and he saw the
beauty of even this forgotten place. He crept to the bars and took
a cautionary glance down both ends of the corridor. He saw no one.
	He also saw the key dangling from its metal ring. It was
hanging on the other side of the corridor, a good eight feet away.
His arms could not reach that far through the bars. There was
nothing in his cell he could use to hook the key or drag it across
the floor. For a short while he stared at the key, then he smiled
for a second time.
	There was one other trick he knew. Only he knew. His mother
and father might have suspected, but said nothing. No servants ever
caught glimpses or heard rumours, and remained oblivious. At first
he'd been terrified of this trick, this strange power, but now he
understood that it was a gift.
	He stretched out a hand and demanded with his eyes that the
key obey.
	Simply, unquestioningly, obey.
	The key rattled upon its ring, as if afraid of the distance,
and then gathering its courage the key jumped across the length of
the corridor. The boy plucked it from the air, and the key stayed
safe in his hands. It was an awkward ordeal, unlocking the door,
but he was able to reach up from beneath and slide the key into
place. The door creaked as it swung out, but the sound was barely
audible. The boy checked the corridors once again before stepping
out, and found no sign of the two who owned the bored voices.
	The shackles binding his wrists together had no lock.
	He would have to run with them.
	It was not hard knowing which way to run. The bored voices
always disappeared down the right end, and returned from the right
end, so he ran left. But not before closing the cell door, locking
it, and hanging the key back up where he had found it.
	All the rooms he knew of were on the right side, and thus the
voices were all lurking on the right side. He had memorized the
number of steps down each hallway to reach each room; memorized how
many turns and on what side they were; memorized the unique sounds
that echoed in each tunnel. He dared not return that way unless he
absolutely had to, so he was forced to venture into the unknown
depths of the halls he hardly recognized.
	He ran, pausing only when he reached a junction and had to
choose which way to turn. It was all guesswork, but his ears had
grown sharp since he had been stolen away, and he followed them. He
followed the growing sound of the tidal shores, his ears telling
him if he went astray or turned down the wrong path.
	The churning of the sea grew louder.
	Two corridors led to dead ends, the roaring water just on the
other side of the stone. The last one he chose opened up to a large
pool where clear, flowing water rushed forth beneath a wooden
bridge connecting the far ends of the chamber. The boy quelled the
thrilling rush of adrenaline, knowing that while he felt he would
be free at last, he knew the final gambit would have to be played
out.
	If he was wrong, it would cost him his life.
	He knelt down on the edge of the river and tasted the water.
It was fresh, without traces of salt. This river connected to the
ocean he had spent nights and days listening to. The roaring of the
river at his feet was almost as loud as the roar of the water
somewhere on the other side of this outer wall.
	The boy made his way onto the bridge, stopping at the centre
and staring down into the frothing waters. They ran deep, and they
ran fast. He turned his eyes to the opening in the wall where the
water surged into canals and corridors unknown. There was no way to
know how far he would have to travel before the river poured out
into the ocean, or if he would be able to fit through all the
openings in the rock, or if he could hold his breath for that long.
	The boy glanced back over his shoulder at the way he had
come.
	The bored voices would have probably returned by now, and
found him gone.
	They would be coming.
	The boy closed his eyes and began to go through a series of
breathing exercises, taking in greater and deeper breaths as he
continued. Once he felt calm enough to suck in as much air as he
could, he carefully climbed onto the railings and stood on the edge
of life and death. The water had the power to free, and the power
to destroy.
	He prayed it would show him favour and mercy.
	His wrists shackled, his will resolved, the boy stepped off
the bridge and plunged into cold, churning waters that pulled him
down and sucked him through the opening in the wall. He was pushed,
pulled, sank, bobbed and tumbled headlong in a wet freefall until
he plunged into a pool that tasted horribly, wonderfully salty in
his mouth.
	The boy erupted from beneath the surface of the ocean,
gasping for air and frantically kicking his legs to keep himself
afloat. He turned his head upwards, and saw a ruinous castle
looming high above atop perilous, vertical cliffs. He also saw how
far he had plummeted with the waterfall, and thanked whatever gods
listening for the bottom of the pool being so deep.
	He kicked his way to the rocky shores, where ferocious tides
pounded relentlessly against damp, treacherous rocks. From there,
he moved as fast as he could, clenching his jaw through the chill
of the wind and the weariness of his body. He refused to let
himself sleep, to let himself rest. They would not take him again.
	And so he ran, hard and fast like the waters that had helped
him escape.
	From atop the only surviving tower of the ruined castle, twin
sisters, no older than ten, watched through the window as a tiny
blur of black hair and torn blue robes scuttled over the rocks.
	"Run, little prince, run," the first said.
	"He looks so handsome when he runs," the second said. She
turned to her sister. "He was born a horse in a boy's skin."
	The twins turned their heads to a woman reclining upon a
crimson settee, her scarlet eyes directed to the ceiling as she
lost herself in dark, secret thoughts.
	"He's quite the fine little steed, my queen," the first
sister said.
	The second one added, "I want to ride him."
	The woman reclining in the settee slowly nodded, the winds
from the open window toying with the ends of her long, fiery red
hair. She glanced back over her shoulder as the double doors to her
chambers burst open, and the owner of the hateful voice wishing to
kill the boy stormed in. "I've just heard the news," the man
stated, his lips curling back into a snarl. He turned to his master
and Queen. "Tell me you let him escape, Beryl."
	Beryl nodded, a thin smile on her lips. "You have no idea how
valuable he is to me. I let him think he escaped on his own,
without harm or ill effects. I told you that he's the key, Spinel.
He'll run back to his family, to our enemies, and they will welcome
him with open arms, unaware that I've just unleashed my greatest
weapon against them."
	The twin girls giggled and returned to watching the boy.
	He was almost out of sight, where the cliffs and rocks would
hide him until he stumbled across a main road or village. This
castle would be deserted by the time anyone came to find his
captors and burn its skeletal remains.
	"Safe journeys, little prince Endymion," the first girl said,
waving good-bye to him.
	The second one twirled a lock of sandy-blonde hair around her
fingertip. "Ride home to Mummy and Daddy, and give them a kiss for
us too."



			Are you dancing?


			-ANGEL ELECTRIC-




Eleven years later...


	Upon the moon, the Sea of Tranquillity was a great blue
ocean, and it shimmered like an illusion during the Earthrise. And
on the edge of the illusion laid a beautiful castle, silver and
majestic, as if the Renaissance had decided to bloom once more. It
boasted hidden founts and breath-taking gardens, labyrinthine
corridors and great roofless halls. The palace embodied quiet
elegance and epic grandeur. Its spires rose up to the starry skies
like crooking silver fingers, enticing all who saw to be drawn
closer to its subtle glory.
	The allure was lost on one traveller.
	Kunzite looked away from the palace, preferring to watch the
silent clarity of the waters. The shadow of the zeppelin they rode
in flirted upon the sea's surface, a long black shark travelling
towards the towers and spiral stairs and immense ballrooms at the
water's end.
	The cabin was a private one, sprawling and colourful, with a
separate bedroom located at the rear. The zeppelin itself was
reserved for welcomed and honoured guests who were ferried to and
from the palace. Kunzite cast another wary gaze at the palace; it
did not seem so welcoming to him.
	He had been standing and watching the palace for most of
their trek across the Sea of Tranquillity, and while for others it
brought inspiration, it brought him only unrest. Kunzite walked
away from the window, crossing the cabin.
	He passed by a soldier sharing his rank, though significantly
younger in age. In fact, the blonde youth scowling in his chair was
the youngest man on record to attain the rank of General.
	"Enjoying the flight?" Kunzite remarked.
	The entire body of the zeppelin shuddered.
	Jadeite's brow furrowed as he stiffened in his chair. "If
humans were meant to fly," he stated, "the gods would have given us
wings. I don't know why the Lunarians consider riding in the belly
of a metal beast like this a luxury. It feels as though it may
shake itself apart. It would be a rather simple means of killing
us, don't you think?"
	For his part, Kunzite had to nod in agreement. He wasn't very
fond of seeing the ground so far beneath his feet. None of them
did. This was Lunarian technology, exclusive to the Lunarian world,
and the Lunarians did not like to share. Yet he couldn't bring
himself to wholly blame them, and that's what Kunzite disliked the
most. From what he knew, from what he'd read and researched, these
floating behemoths were used exclusively for travelling to the
different kingdoms upon the moon.
	Earth however...
	Kunzite stopped himself from contemplating just how fast it
would take any nation or empire on Earth to turn these travelling
zeppelins into near-indestructible war chariots. An army of these
would be unstoppable. And some Terrans wondered why the Lunarians
didn't like to share in their wonders.
	The zeppelin shuddered once more as they began a slow,
circling decent.
	Jadeite's scowl worsened as he became lost in thoughts that
made him restless. That much was obvious just from looking at him.
Kunzite felt much the same way. Their journey had already been long
and arduous, and made in haste for altogether dark and foreboding
reasons.
	The only way to travel between worlds was to journey to the
Star Temples, which served to bridge the cold, empty distance of
space between Earth and the moon. Their country alone had three
different Star Temples, with one located right in the capital city.
The temples, named after their unique and distinctly Lunarian look
& shape, housed within their epic and sacred walls a Star Chamber.
The chambers were what could take anything up to a small army from
the Earth to the moon, or from the moon to the Earth.
	Terrans rarely used the temples on their end. Many had fallen
into disrepair or been sacked and destroyed in wars. Some had been
ripped apart brick by brick, torn down by the angry mobs denouncing
everything that had to do with Lunaria. The few temples left with
working Star Chambers had just one problem: the chambers required a
massive amount of untapped energy in order to work.
	Transporting any number of people and objects across the
reaches of space in the span of a few seconds was no simple task.
And most nations or empires on Earth lacked the raw power needed to
generate even a single teleportation. Lunaria, on the other hand,
had such power in abundance. More often than not, it was Lunaria
sending envoys and emissaries to Earth, and not the other way
around.
	Even today, though, the Lunarians who came to Earth were few
and far between. The risk was too great. Their safety could no
longer be guaranteed almost anywhere they went. Perhaps if there
had been an easier way to cross the gap between their worlds,
Kunzite reflected, relations between the two worlds would not be so
frosty as they were now. And considering why they had come, why
they all had been willing to journey to their capital's Star
Chamber and let Lunaria connect the bridge from their end...
	Kunzite tried not to dwell on it so much.
	The reception waiting them in the Lunarian Star Temple had
been small, there to help them overcome the nausea that came with
travelling through the Star Chambers, and to load their things into
the zeppelin. Why the hell was the Star Temple so far from the
palace anyways? They'd already been in the air for what felt like
hours now, and finally the end seemed almost in sight.
	After that, who knew what might happen?
	Kunzite glanced back at Jadeite. Jadeite was shifting about
in his chair uncomfortably, restlessly. Kunzite found it annoying.
"If you've been sitting in that for too long, General," he told
Jadeite, "then perhaps you should try getting up and stretching
your legs instead."
	"If only it were that simple," Jadeite answered. "I remain
uncertain of our roles in all this, Kunzite, and that I do not
like."
	"As do I," Zoicite agreed. He rose from his own chair,
setting aside a classified report on the insurrections plaguing
their country. Zoicite glanced at the palace as it grew ever larger
in the windows. "We have more important duties to attend to than
this. We should not be here."
	A fourth voice, louder and more brazen than any other, joined
the conversation.
	"Princess Serenity and four of her delegates. Prince Endymion
and four of his delegates. And the Lunarian Queen presiding over it
all." Nephrite let out a derisive snort and crossed his arms over
his chest, staring out the windows. "It sounds more like a meeting
for an arranged marriage than some diplomatic good-will gesture."
	"For once, I agree with him," Zoicite said. He looked over to
Kunzite. "We're not getting paid enough commission for this."
	"You also all know that we have no choice in this matter,"
Kunzite stated coolly. He was especially staring down at Nephrite,
with just enough contempt in his eyes to make Nephrite shift
uncomfortably in his chair. "We've come here at their request, but
we've also come wearing samurai armour and carrying samurai swords.
This is not some trivial little get-together. If you would rather
risk open war with Lunaria as opposed to this, do let me know."
	Nephrite said nothing, and glowered at the carpeting.
	The act satisfied Kunzite enough, and he walked through the
cabin to the guest bedroom, where their prince was currently
residing. The other three generals waited until the door closed
shut behind him before speaking again.
	"He needn't be so harsh," Zoicite remarked.
	"He can't help it," Jadeite sighed, reclining back in his
seat. He resigned himself to their fate and took Kunzite's advice,
stretching out his legs. "It's what he was trained to be."
	Nephrite shook his head and remained in his chair. "He's
loyal to a fault. That near-blind devotion to king and cause is a
part of Kunzite's fatal design. If he doesn't tread carefully, he
will fall because of it."
	"Is this another of your karmic predictions, Nephrite?"
Jadeite said, visibly more amused than Zoicite.
	"I don't need the stars to tell me that. His every stride
tells me enough."
	Zoicite frowned and leaned up against one of the support
columns in the cabin. "And what have the stars told you about this
good-will meeting?"
	Nephrite glanced back at the door to their prince's chamber,
and his eyes were more concerned than caustic. "They're afraid.
Afraid to tell me what's going to happen."


				*	*	*
	Endymion did not look like a prince, nor did he dress like
one. He resembled the leader of legions of samurai rather than a
nobleman. He preferred armour instead of silk robes, black to blue
or white, and he carried a sword at his side. It was a Bastard
Sword, long and straight-bladed, and it had a name: the Soul
Constellation. People whispered that its blade could bleed the
sunrise, and burn new stars into the heavens. The Soul
Constellation had belonged in his family for generations beyond
generations. It had been wielded by his father, and now it would be
wielded by him.
	One of Endymion's hands clung protectively to the sword, as
if afraid it might vanish the moment it felt he was letting his
guard down. His hand had rested upon the pommel since they'd left
the Star Temple, and set off across the sea in the zeppelin.
	He did not look over his shoulder as he heard Kunzite open
the door and step inside. His eyes never left the world below their
transport. The prince moved very little as Kunzite drew up next to
the glass. Kunzite said nothing himself, and the two watched the
lunar world pass them by.
	Endymion was the first to speak, and he was distant,
detached, as if he believed he was simply a traveller in a dream.
"It's strange," he said. I've always seen the Lunarian capital
through pictures and the telescope in my father's private
observatory, but never this close. It shines more here than it does
in the pictures."
	"Do you think we've made a mistake in coming here?" Kunzite
asked.
	"If you thought we had," Endymion said, "I doubt you would
have let me walk up the gangplank of this zeppelin."
	Kunzite considered that for a moment, then gave an
indifferent shrug. "Sounds like something I would do."
	Endymion nodded and continued to watch the palace. "The
bloodied blade that was found next to my father, the weapon that
cut him down, was identified as a royal dagger of the Lunarian
Empire. And here we are: the sole heir to one of Earth's largest
and most influential empires, and his four greatest soldiers,
descending upon their capital."
	The implications were clear enough that neither had to speak
of them.
	"No one knows about the origins of the dagger, save for the
five people here in this cabin," Kunzite said quietly. "And perhaps
two or three people in the Moon Palace, the Queen being among them.
She invited us here to ensure there is no ill-will, that their
hands are clean in all this."
	He stared out at the palace. The buildings seemed to glow an
ethereal silver in the darkness. Nothing on Earth shimmered like
that.
	"This meeting must be conducted without any bloodlusts or
personal distrust on your part," Kunzite said. "If word gets out of
that blade, then Earth will be more than ready to go to war.
Everyone loved your father, and they are demanding vengeful
retribution as it is. Lunaria has been a scapegoat in the past;
questionable evidence like that dagger will only bolster the anti-
Lunarian sentiments. I know you don't want that, but by then even
you may not be able to stop them."
	"What if the assassin was from the Moon Kingdom?" Endymion
said.
	Kunzite's eyes narrowed. "I said you must not show distrust,
Endymion. You are a prince and ambassador of Earth. You are the one
who must show the Lunarians that not all Terrans dream of war in
their sleep." Kunzite's lips tightened into a malevolent grin.
"Leave the mistrust and suspicions to me."
	"This from the man who put me through the rigors of fencing
and swordplay for three hours a day?" Endymion dryly remarked.
	He cracked a smile, and it made Kunzite laugh.
	"I still miss him," Endymion said quietly. "Nothing can bring
him back, no matter how much wishful thinking I try to use. Every
night I seem to dream that I break down the doors at the last
minute and save him. Sometimes I stop that blade at the last
possible moment. Sometimes I sacrifice my arm to it. No matter how
often I play that entire night through, I cannot bring myself to
understand what went wrong."
	Kunzite put his back to the glass, his arms crossing over his
chest. "What troubles me," he said, "is how there were no witnesses
to his murder. To think: in a palace that large and that guarded,
an assassin slipped through everything and..."
	His voice trailed off, ominously and with regret.
	"It's safe to say it aloud here," Endymion said. He never
stopped watching the approaching palace. "I have shed my tears, and
have only cold resolve left. Your words will not trouble me any
further."
	He glanced over at his General when Kunzite hesitated.
	"Go ahead," Endymion told him. "Finish what you were going to
say: that my father was stabbed twelve times in the chest by that
dagger, that his eyes were removed and no one knows what the
assassin has done with them."
	Kunzite exhaled deeply and stared at his prince. "Your father
was more loved and respected than any other man I know, and I was
proud to have the chance to serve under him. An honoured warrior
and poet like him should not have left the world that way. We will
find the bastards responsible, my prince, and we will make them
pay."
	A new voice filtered into the room: "Am I interrupting?"
	The two looked away from the window.
	Zoicite stood in the doorway.
	Kunzite greeted his comrade with a pleasant smile. "Not at
all. What is it?"
	Zoicite thumbed back towards the cockpit. "The pilot says
we'll be landing soon. We should get ready to disembark."


				*	*	*
	Lunaria was a nation no larger than the modern country of
Belgium, yet it held the power of the Solis System in its hands.
From Lunaria's capital palace, a queen ruled over what many had
come to call the Silver Millennium. It was a time of prosperity and
trade for all worlds and colonies. Only the Earth, with its
constant upheaval of the darker realms of the human condition, was
struggling to maintain stability.
	Earth was the black sheep of the system.
	It had been the last planet to enter into treatise with the
Lunarian Empire, and then only after decades of civil war. Hope
came only through a Terran King who did the impossible and united
the fractured nations in power. Eleven years ago he braved
revolutionaries and extremist xenophobes to forge a pact with the
Queen of Lunaria. There were factions still opposed to Earth coming
under Lunarian rule, but they were few and scattered, though their
voices could always be heard.
	The Lunarians were always listening, and always concerned.
	Earth knew the Lunarians were always listening, and that
concerned them.
	And so the reception that came as the zeppelin docked, and
Endymion with his four Generals made their way down the gangplank,
was frosty at best. There was no pomp, nor band, nor fireworks, nor
rows upon rows of dignitaries and nobles standing on either side of
the red carpet leading towards the palace.
	There were, however, guards, but they kept their distance.
Their eyes never left the Terrans, their hands tightly gripping
their halberds and polestaffs. Their uniforms were silver,
decorated with finely crafted plates of armour.
	"What do you think?" Jadeite remarked to Zoicite, sticking
his chin out at some of the guards.
	"More decorative than functional," Zoicite replied. He barely
gave the guards a second glance. "Against the four of us, it would
hardly seem a fair fight for them."
	Kunzite glanced back over his shoulder at them. "This is
neither the time nor the place for that, Zoicite."
	"It's true though."
	"I know." Kunzite redirected his gaze back to Endymion, who
led the procession down the gangplank. "That doesn't mean they have
to know it."
	Halcyon, the Queen, was there to greet them, as was her
daughter.
	Behind the two royal matriarchs were four young women bearing
the uniforms (if such robes could have been called that) of
Lunaria's elite guard.
	"Sailor Senshi," Zoicite muttered just loud enough for
Nephrite and Jadeite to hear. "We had to work years for our
positions and respect; they were born into it."
	Nephrite acted indifferent, but he shared Zoicite's
sentiments. "Let's just wait and see who walks away from a duel
between the two." His mouth curled into a savage smile. "And who
gets carried out in a stretcher."
	"Quiet," Jadeite said. "They might hear you."
	Nephrite's smile didn't fade. "Let them."
	"Behave yourself, Nephrite," Kunzite abruptly spoke up, no
louder than needed. "Conduct yourself with the dignity and honour
deserving a Terran 'Nihonjin' General. If it comes to it, I'll kick
your ass myself."
	Endymion reached the end of the gangplank and waited for his
Generals to finish their procession. He bowed cordially on one knee
before the Queen of Lunaria, and while his Generals did not, they
stood at dutiful attention.
	"It is an honour to be able to meet with you face to face at
long last, Halcyon Queen," Endymion said in the Lunarian tongue.
	His fluency with the lunar language seemed to surprise all
the young women behind the Queen, most of all her daughter. Halcyon
smiled, as if expecting this, and bowed her head as a sign of
mutual respect.
	"You speak like you were raised here," she said, switching to
the Terran-Nihonjin tongue. "Had I known of your proficiency, I
would have asked you speak Lunarian during our communiqués."
	"My father made a point of teaching me the language since I
was little," Endymion replied, rising to his feet. "He said that if
you knew not the language, then you knew not the people who spoke
it."
	Halcyon nodded her head, the long tresses of her silver hair
billowing out behind her in the quiet lunar winds. "Wise words,"
she said, "from an even wiser king." For a moment there was sadness
in her smile. "I am sorry for your loss, Endymion. Your father...he
was a good man. His death is a tragedy for us all."
	Endymion nodded. He could hear the earnestness in her voice,
and he believed in it, just as his father had. If it was the only
thing left for him believe in, it was that. He wondered if that
single, delicate thread of trust would be what kept the Earth and
the Moon from all-out war. He wondered if that thread might be
strong enough to weather what might come for them all.
	"Do your Generals speak Lunarian as well as you do?" asked
the Queen.
	Endymion glanced over his shoulder and answered, "They can
speak enough to get by."
	Jadeite almost snickered.
	Zoicite had to bite down on his tongue to keep from smirking.
	Halcyon directed her gaze now to Endymion's envoy, sharing
the same warm, inviting smile with the Generals as she had shown
their prince. "We thank you," she said in the Terran-Nihonjin
tongue, "for coming not only on such short notice, but also given
the circumstances you are going through. I look forward to our
coming meetings, and hope that you enjoy your stay here within our
palace walls."
	The Queen stepped aside and gestured with her arm to the
young Lunarian princess. "This is my daughter, Serenity Princess,"
she said. "Serenity, I would like you to meet Endymion, King of--"
	"I'm not king yet," Endymion said, though his tone was more
quiet than chiding. He turned to the princess and bowed his head to
her, speaking Lunarian. "Unofficially I am king, though I have
delayed the ceremony of ascension until after we finish our affairs
here."
	"Ah." Halcyon looked amused by his demurring. "Then what
title should you be given while you are here? Endymion Prince?"
	Endymion shook his head. "I am merely Endymion. On Earth,
sometimes a name means more than a title. With a name comes respect
for what the man bearing that name has done. I would rather be
called Endymion than be known as a prince."
	"Then it so shall be," Halcyon agreed. "I would not be
surprised to see the name of Endymion becoming greater than that of
any prince we have known."
	Endymion lowered himself to one knee again, taking the
princess' right hand and drawing it to his lips. It was a formal
Lunarian custom, and as he kissed her hand, Serenity stared at
Endymion with eyes wide in childlike wonder. He was easily a head
taller than she, and side by side they were a study in contrasts.
He wore armour, dark and imposing, the Soul Constellation sheathed
at his side. Serenity's gown was white, as delicate as new-fallen
snow, and she wore it like she was an angel.
	The greatest of all differences between them were their eyes.
	His were a blue of darkness and oceans, and they were haunted
by the nightmares of memories and dreams. Hers were a blue like the
skies, pure and untainted, as if seeing everything for the first
time and marveling at its beauty.
	They both lingered in watching each other, and Endymion, more
aware of the duties of formality, was the first to look away.
Serenity moved aside, joining her mother and leaving a clear view
of the four young women standing guard behind them. They looked
older than the princess, but not by much.
	"These are the Sailor Soldiers who have sworn their lives to
protect my daughter," Halcyon said. "May I present to Endymion:
Sailor Mercury."
	A young woman with short hair that seemed to shimmer a watery
blue stepped forward and bowed. Her eyes were sharp as a falcon's
and followed every detail of the world around her.
	"Sailor Mars."
	A young woman blessed with long, thick hair as black as
raven's wing stepped forward, and after she scrutinized Endymion
with eyes that could have melted metal, she bowed.
	"Sailor Jupiter."
	The tallest of the four Sailor Soldiers joined her comrades,
giving only a slight nod to the Terran prince. Her fists were
clenched, the muscles in her body tense as if expecting a battle to
surprise them all.
	"And Sailor Venus."
	The last of the young woman, one with brilliant golden hair
as long as Sailor Mars', didn't step forward. She strolled, and
with a playful smile and wink of the eye she bowed to Endymion.
Endymion was torn between loving her sense of humour during such
stifling events, and wondering if she'd just tried to hit on him.
	He stepped aside and motioned for his Generals to come
forward. "My ambassadors and trusted friends," he announced.
"General Jadeite of my southern armies, and lord of Kyushu."
	Jadeite took a step out, only three paces away from the face
of Sailor Mars, and gave a formal, Terran-Nihonjin military bow.
His eyes roamed Mars' body in a brief appraisal, and he absently
wondered if she was cold wearing a uniform with such a short skirt
on it.
	"General Nephrite of my northern armies, and lord of
Hokkaido."
	Nephrite stepped up, but did not salute. He crossed his arms
over his chest and stared across at Jupiter, a predatory smile on
his face. Jupiter squirmed uneasily beneath his gaze only for a few
seconds, and then returned it with a steely glare all her own.
	"General Zoicite of my eastern armies, and lord of Shikoku."
	Zoicite joined the others and saluted, and regarded Mercury
with distinct interest. He was watching her watch everyone else.
	"And General Kunzite of my western armies, lord of Honshu,
and my personal advisor."
	Kunzite made his way up to the Queen and bowed to her, then
bowed to Serenity. She smiled at his gesture and nodded her head.
Kunzite took his place standing opposite Sailor Venus, and for a
moment could have sworn she was checking him out.
	"It's a strange event, is it not?" Halcyon remarked to
Endymion. "The four most respected Terran-Nihonjin soldiers
standing with four of the Sailor Soldiers. Should we commemorate
this with a picture?"
	Endymion glanced at his Generals, then at the Sailor
Soldiers. The Generals were staring at the Sailor Soldiers with
unbridled suspicion. The Sailor Soldiers were more than happy to
share the sentiment.
	"I think it can wait," he said.
	"Then it shall wait until another opportunity arises,"
Halcyon agreed. She turned her head to Sailor Venus and nodded.
Venus led Serenity back into the palace, the other three Sailor
Soldiers flanking their exit.
	"She's a beautiful daughter," Endymion said. It was a casual
remark, with very little bearing outside of the compliment. "You
must be proud whenever you look at her."
	Halcyon nodded, a touch of melancholy marring her smile. "I
only wish her father was here to be just as proud of her as I am."
	"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."
	Halcyon simply smiled, taking no offence. "Then we're both
sorry, and can move on to much more pleasant topics of discussion."
	"At your leisure, Halcyon Queen."
	She began to walk towards the nearest palace entrance. All
around them were long, narrow gardens in full bloom, and great
silver walls and towers that shimmered like the oceans beneath a
midnight sky. Enormous columns held aloft a great overhang that had
been transformed into a waterfall, the cataract running down either
side of the entrance. In the middle was the archway leading them
inside. The mist from the rushing water was refreshing, though
Nephrite did not seem entirely thrilled to have his armour
dampened.
	"Regrettably, I must depart now, as there are other affairs
of state that need my attention," Halcyon said, returning to the
Lunarian speech.
	"Don't I know that feeling," Endymion agreed ruefully. He
continued to speak Lunarian as well, and intended to continue to do
so for as long as they remained on the Moon.
	Halcyon gestured to a trio of men dressed in plain grey robes
and headpieces adorned with a symbol that designated them as
servants. "They will show you to your respective chambers," Halcyon
told Endymion. "The inaugural ball to welcome your arrival here
will begin at eight tonight. If you require anything before then,
my servants will be yours. Oh, and should you choose to explore the
palace, try not to get lost. Its design is rather...complicated."
	"We'll make inquiries if we can't find the bathrooms,"
Endymion replied.
	There Halcyon bid them farewell until the ball, and with a
personal servant of her own vanished through one of the many double
doors lining the immense corridor.
	"So," Jadeite remarked in their own tongue, looking at their
three escorts. "Think any of them speak Terran-Nihongo?"
	"Knowing the Queen, I wouldn't put it past her to give us
bilingual guides and not tell us," Endymion said with a smirk.
"Watch what you say in public, guys."


				*	*	*
	The journey to their ambassadorial suites took the greater
part of thirty minutes, and during that time Endymion and his
Generals saw gardens of unparalleled natural beauty, courtyards and
piazzas adorned with majestic sculptures, and expansive halls
stretching sometimes as far as their eyes could see. Wherever
possible, there were windows or open areas allowing them to stare
up at the skies or out at another hidden corner of the palace.
	The servants left them at the doors to their suites.
	The common room was hexagon-shaped, with five of the six sets
of double doors leading into each person's private sleeping
chambers. The floors and walls were a red marble, and the furniture
was all Lunarian. In short: elegantly carved, impressively
elaborate and frightening comfortable.
	"I trust arrangements have been made for our belongings to be
brought here as well," Jadeite said. He glanced over to Kunzite,
who was closing the doors behind them. "Think they've arranged it
so they can listen in on us?"
	Kunzite simply replied: "I would."
	Endymion looked to Nephrite. "If you'd care to do the
honours, General."
	Moving to the centre of the common room, Nephrite closed his
eyes and focussed the world in which his senses dwelled. He became
aware of the paintings and the sounds of their beating hearts and
the stars flickering high above the glass dome over their heads.
After a short interim of silence, his eyes opened.
	"It's clean," he said, somewhat surprised himself. "Apparently
they trust us after all. We can speak as freely as we want to in
here."
	Zoicite immediately turned back to the other Generals. "A
ball?" he said, incredulous. "We have to attend a ball?"
	Jadeite wasn't exactly thrilled either. "A masquerade ball,
no less, though I imagine we'll be the only ones without any
costumes. Lunarians are renowned for their lavish masques."
	Nephrite rolled his eyes. "I hate formalities."
	"Will we be expected to attend?" Zoicite asked.
	All eyes turned to Endymion.
	"It would be rude of us to snub a party being held in our
honour," Endymion sighed, massaging one of his shoulders. "I'd love
to tell all of us take the night off, especially given all the
preparation and effort just to get here, but unfortunately there's
more at stake than our pride."
	Nephrite was staunch in his refusal. "I don't dance."
	"Then gather intelligence," Kunzite stated, irritation at
Nephrite beginning to seep into his voice. "Skulk, mingle, wander;
I don't care. Listen to the conversations. With Endymion around,
the Lunarians are going to be talking a lot about us. This will be
an excellent time for us to find out exactly what they are
whispering."
	"I doubt anything good," Zoicite sighed, dropping onto one of
the chairs. Its cushions sank slightly, and Zoicite took a moment
to try and get a feel for the chair.  None of them were entirely
used to such furniture. "So, anyone else curious about those Sailor
Soldiers?"
	Endymion opened up one set of doors and peered into the
sleeping chambers he had claimed. "How so?"
	"We all know the accounts," Jadeite said. He was appraising
one of the paintings hanging on the wall, his back slightly turned
to the others. "We all know the myths too, for that matter. They
were destined from birth to be the defenders of our system, and
they possess a unique brand of power that could best be described
as magic."
	Nephrite rolled his eyes. "So they can fling fireballs and
lightning. We've all done more damage than they have with our
swords alone."
	"That's because none of them have ever fought any real
battles," Kunzite said. He busied himself opening the doors of his
sleeping chambers. "We have skill and experience on our side, but
they have the raw power. If they are given opportunity to refine
that power, they will in time be a force to be reckoned with."
	"I was more referring to their ages, actually," Zoicite said.
"How old did they look?"
	The Generals were quiet.
	"They appeared barely older than the princess they are sworn
to protect," Jadeite said. He was no longer studying the painting.
"Can anyone their age follow through on such a heavy duty?"
	"You're one to talk," Nephrite said to Jadeite. "They looked
about as old as you, and you're only nineteen."
	"And I've got the scars to prove it," Jadeite added.  "Their
innocence is in their eyes. They have trained, but they have not
fought."
	Zoicite sighed up at the ceiling. "They're cute though. Don't
you think, Kunzite?"
	Kunzite stepped out from his chambers and gave Zoicite a
curious look. "Excuse me?"
	"Well, he's got a point," Nephrite agreed. "The blonde one
was giving you quite the visual examination. Ah, to be mentally
undressed by a Sailor Soldier."
	He let out a mocking sigh and started to chuckle. Zoicite
quickly joined in, and Jadeite was unable to hide his grin. Kunzite
had been trained too well to blush, but he did shake his head and
pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. It
didn't help when he saw a familiar smirk on Endymion's face as the
prince emerged from his own chambers.
	"My prince," Kunzite implored, "If anyone here would have the
voice of reason."
	Endymion looked around the room, and with a perfectly calm
expression said to Kunzite, "May your liaisons be private and not
start a war between our two empires."
	That earned him a very sarcastic, "Thank you."
	Kunzite looked at the other Generals. "Well, I believe
everyone here's had a shot at my dignity, so I shall retire to my
room and hope it has a private bar."
	"I'll be sleeping, if anyone needs me," Endymion said.
	Zoicite glanced up at the dome over their heads. "Shouldn't
be too hard to get sleep in this place. It's always dark out."
	"The masquerade ball's supposed to start around seven,"
Endymion said. "Wake me up an hour before then."
	"Is there going to be a formal dinner for us tonight?"
Zoicite asked.
	Nephrite rolled his eyes. "We're doing enough penance tonight
with the masque as it is."
	"There won't be a dinner tonight," Jadeite said. "The masque
is being catered, from what I gathered. One of our guides mentioned
it to his colleague."
	He was heading for the doors that would allow him to escape
out of the common room and into the palace.
	"Where are you going?" Nephrite said.
	Jadeite shrugged. "Wherever my feet happen to wander." He
turned his eyes towards Endymion. "I'll be back in time for the
masque, I swear."
	Endymion made a half-hearted wave, which told Jadeite to do
as he pleased. Sleep seemed a larger priority to the prince than
keeping track of people he already trusted. Jadeite made quick work
of crossing the common room and departing.
	"That's actually a good excuse," Nephrite muttered aside to
Zoicite. "Just skip the ball altogether and claim to have gotten
lost."
	"Need a partner to get lost with?" Zoicite asked, suddenly
optimistic.
	Kunzite looked back over his shoulder at them and smiled. "I
heard that."


				*	*	*
	It was called the Hall of Antiquity, and it was comprised of
one long, grandiose corridor lined on either side with sculptures
and busts of those who'd shaped the Solis System into what it had
now become. Faces of myth, battles of heroicism, poses of regal and
epic stature: all were painstakingly painted onto canvases or
carved into precious stone, and carefully arranged so that the
Lunarians would never forget their heritage. There were warriors
and politicians, kings and queens, and even a small sculpture
celebrating the arrival of two emissaries from the distant planet,
Mau.
	And at the far end of the hall, there stood a worn and
weathered sculpture whose artist no one could name. It was more
ancient than ancient, and pieces were cracked or chipped off, and
the details had been rubbed away by time and harsh worlds. All the
sculpture had left to cling to for its identity was the title of
the piece: The Progenitor.
	The work bore a remarkable resemblance to a Sailor Soldier
battling some great, terrible flood, her arms and legs ensnarled by
tendrils and waves, the cold resolve on her face still standing out
amidst the fading of other details. A tidal wave, the flood's core
body, leaned forward as if to devour her, and it had enormous eyes,
a being who was without true form, yet still was.
	All who gazed upon it were filled with a lingering fear they
could not explain.
	There was one, however, who could look at the face of the
Progenitor and feel nothing. She gazed upon the creature, the
devourer of souls and worlds, and smiled. It amused her to see a
sculpture alone invoke so much blind fear, when the reality of the
Progenitor was so much more terrifying. She understood it more than
anyone else, but told no one.
	She studied the Progenitor closely, taking the opportunity
now, as she was the only person in the Hall of the Ancient at this
time. Too much attention would be drawn if others noticed how much
of her time was spent admiring the Progenitor.
	The hall had closed its doors to the rest of the palace for
days now, as a new piece was being moved into its new home: a
sculpture of the current queen and her daughter. Already there was
another empty space next to it, awaiting the chance to commemorate
the date that Earth joined the Lunarian Empire.
	In another day Antiquity's doors would be reopened.
	Halcyon Queen wished to show Endymion the legacy left behind
by those who had fought, sweat and shed blood to bring about peace
and order. The Queen believed that his likeness would soon join the
others inside the hall, for he, like his father, was working to end
the strife plaguing Earth.
	But not everyone believed in Endymion, and not everyone loved
him.
	Some, in fact, despised him.
	A gust of wind blew at her locks of long, fiery red hair, but
she did not tear her eyes away from the gaping maw of the
Progenitor. She listened as a secret door opened, then shut, and
footsteps approached her.
	"They're here," a man's voice said to her.
	Beryl smiled again. "I know."
	She turned away from The Progenitor piece and fixed her eyes
upon a man who bore the uniform of a Seraphim, the elite and now
disbanded Lunarian high guard, a man no older than thirty-five. His
face was unable to smile, and his eyes burned blue. He bowed before
her, bangs of brown hair falling over his eyes.
	"My Queen," he said, "when you first approached me with
promises not of  conquest, but of vengeance, I was more than happy
to betray my homeland. And here I am, nearly twelve years later,
and my thirst remains unquenched. I demand action be taken!"
	"Patience, Spinel," Beryl told him. "Vengeance is, after all,
best served cold. And I have been keeping it very cold for you
these past years."
	Spinel crossed his arms over his chest, and by all
indications did not seem placated by her words. "I don't care what
Halcyon wants. To trust the Terrans is to place a knife at our
throats."
	His words delighted Beryl, and she almost indulged the
temptation to lick her lips. She walked in a slow circle around
him, graceful and deadly. "Generations of hatred," she said,
"passed down from father to son. Such delicious darkness, Spinel."
	Spinel was also not one to be intimidated.
	"I want what my family deserves," he stated. "I want the
blood of Endymion."
	"His house is not responsible for what happened."
	"He suffers, and all of Earth suffers with him." Spinel was
adamant, unmoving, and ultimately blinded to everything else by his
hatred. "It's as simple as that. And I want nothing simpler."
	Beryl's expression revealed nothing save for slight
amusement, as if he could not see as far into the future as she had
planned, as if she enjoyed his bloodlust while she kept him in the
dark. Spinel failed to see the humour in any of it.
	"Without my men and I," he stated, "you would have never been
able to infiltrate Earth and kidnap Endymion. You owe me, and I
tire of hiding like a common criminal, unpaid and unsatisfied."
	Beryl considered that for a moment. She answered him, "Have I
not provided for you while you were in hiding upon the Earth,
Commander Spinel? Did I not arrange transportation for you and your
followers to come here, so that you may be present when Endymion
arrived? Did I not go to great and dangerous lengths to procure all
of you with jobs inside the palace, so that you may move about at
your leisure, undetected and under no suspicions whatsoever?"
	Spinel growled. He knew full well that as far as debts went,
they were even with each other, but he was not about to leave the
argument in Beryl's hands alone. He rested a hand upon the hilt of
his sword.
	"I will kill him while he is here, my Queen," he said to her.
"If you will not approve, then you will not be able to stop me."
	He took his leave of her, stalking out through the same
secret passage from which he had emerged. Beryl watched him depart,
hands casually behind her back, her long gown of midnight blue
fluttering in the breeze.
	Shadows amidst the works behind her stirred, and two figures
emerged: young women with long curls of sandy-blonde hair and
dresses of Lunarian courtesans.  They had blossomed and matured
into beautiful creatures since their last encounter with Endymion,
but they still moved like the wind itself, silent and unseen.
	"Certainly not a personable fellow, is he, my Queen?" the
first of the twins remarked, frowning at Spinel's secret exit.
	The second twin nodded, her eyes closing and her hands
lifting to her ears. "He screams like a child with a broken toy.
Such a hissy fit. It rings in my ears and makes me irritable."
	"Now, now, my dears," Beryl said to them. "I have use for him
yet. He will have his vengeance soon enough. It will be the last
thing he ever does, save for underestimating Endymion and his
soldiers. At least, I hope so. Our Terran prince had better not
disappoint me."
	She turned to the twins. They were the closest she would ever
have for daughters, and she loved them both. "My beloved Lapis and
Lazuli," she said, caressing each of their cheeks in turn. "Just as
I did in the past, I am going to need your guile and your power now
more than ever."
	"What can we do?" Lapis asked.
	"You both will need to remain in the shadows. It's not yet
your time."
	Lazuli stuck out her lower lip, pouting. "I tire of playing
with darkness. It's getting tedious and I'm running out of
playmates."
	"You can only kill and resurrect the shadows so many ways
before you start to yawn," Lapis agreed.
	Beryl nodded, and neither chided them nor scolded them for
voicing their own impatience. "You both may have the fun you were
promised soon enough," she said. "Once Spinel is allowed to play
his part, then so may we."


				*	*	*
	It had only been an hour, and already Jadeite had discovered
three courtyards adorned with hedges and fountains, two art studios
and more flower gardens than he cared to count. Yet for as epic as
the palace was, he had yet to see very many people. A scattered
pair of whispering courtesans here or there, or a solitary servant
heading purposefully to fulfill some appointed task, but that was
it.
	Jadeite couldn't help but wonder if everyone was that
obsessed with looking their best for tonight's masquerade. That, or
else they had been placed in a wing of the palace not open to the
general public. He suspected a combination of both.
	He still had another three more hours to while away with
something, anything, before he would be required back at their
guest suite to prep for the masque. He'd wandered as far as he
dared, and it was troublesome enough recalling the paths he had
chosen to arrive at the current atrium in the first place.
	"Why do they have to make so many of their hallways look the
same?" he muttered to himself.
	He turned to his left and saw a long corridor lined on both
sides with high-reaching columns and the occasional set of double
doors. He turned to his right and saw a long corridor lined on both
sides with high-reaching columns and the occasional set of double
doors.
	The only saving grace was that at the far left of the hall,
he knew there was a turn to take him back where he'd already been.
As far as he could tell, at the other end opened up to some outdoor
garden. With the atrium having no other passageways to wander
through, Jadeite went right.
	He had gone about five, maybe six steps, when he realised
that someone was following him. There was another set of footfalls,
and in the empty corridors it was easy to hear even the dullest of
echoes. Whomever was making the footfalls was certainly small, and
moving very fast give the swift rhythm he was hearing.
	It wasn't often that something managed to confuse him.
	The few things that did intrigued him to a near obsessive
level.
	Jadeite recalled everything he had seen thus far in the
palace, but nothing matched what he was hearing. He then began to
delve into his memories, trying to find even Terran-based things
that could create such a footfall. All this as he casually walked.
It was on the tenth step that Jadeite felt certain he had figured
out who, or actually what, his shadow was. Jadeite turned around
and stared down at the little white cat padding softly behind him.
	"Hello there," he said to it, speaking Lunarian.
	The cat seemed confused, if not a little surprised at hearing
his voice. It cocked its head to one side, stared up at him, and
then let out a "Myu?"
	Jadeite chuckled, and kneeling down he scratched the little
white feline behind its ears. The cat purred affectionately. "Hm, I
guess you don't respond even to Lunarians," Jadeite said. "How
typical of any cat, but it's good to see one of your kind here."
	Now that he was closer, Jadeite took another look at the cat.
This particular one had a peculiar marking on its forehead, shaped
like a crescent moon. Jadeite couldn't decipher if it was an
uncannily shaped scar, or else some sort of tattoo the Lunarians
marked their pets with. At any rate, the crescent moon shape
matched the mark on both the queen and the princess' foreheads.
	While the cat was a welcomed distraction, Jadeite couldn't
see how he could be entertained by it for another few hours. With
one final petting, he gave the cat a wave good-bye and started off
down the hall.
	The little white cat padded in behind him.
	"I don't have any food," Jadeite said, glancing back over his
shoulder. He continued to keep his pace. "You're not going to get
fed no matter how endearing you try to look."
	The cat persisted in following after him.
	Jadeite looked back over his shoulder again. "Look, I'm
flattered, but I just don't think it'll work out between us.
Besides, I'm sure your owner's going to be very worried if you
don't return home in the next little while, so--"
	He rounded the corner, and, his eyes still on the cat, did
not see the Lunarian maiden coming from the other side of the bend.
They bumped into each other hard enough to be pushed back a step or
two, and the young lady would have fallen to the floor had Jadeite
not caught her by the wrist and steadied her.
	She was dressed in robes of white and scarlet, and wore a
tiara of golden chains and what might have been rubies shaped like
teardrops. Long and beautiful black hair hung down at her waist,
and she held herself with such dignity Jadeite was certain she was
no mere servant.
	"My apologies," he said, speaking as formal Lunarian as he
could. He then made a significant bow at the waist.
	The young lady bowed her head and made as if to think nothing
of it and move on, but her gaze lingered upon his form. "You're one
of the Terran emissaries, aren't you?" she said.
	Jadeite gave a resigned sigh. "Uniform stands out that much,
does it?"
	"Lunarians aren't known for wearing such elaborate plates of
samurai armour."
	"Neither are the Terran-Nihonjin people," he replied. "This
is one of those ceremonial uniforms I'm afraid we're stuck with for
most of our stay here."
	The young lady nodded her head. "And what is the purpose of
your stay?"
	Jadeite would have answered, but as he opened his mouth,
someone else let out a "Myu?" sound instead. The maiden leaned over
to the side, and smiled as she saw the little white cat coming
around the corner.
	"Oh. Hello, Artemis."
	Jadeite looked down at the cat, then knelt down and scratched
beneath Artemis' chin, much to the cat's delight. "Artemis? So
that's his name."
	"He's usually not so friendly with strangers," she said. A
smile began to appear on her otherwise serious face. "You must have
a good heart."
	With a bit of a scathing edge in his voice, Jadeite remarked,
"And here I thought most Lunarians didn't like us very much."
	That earned him a reproachful glare from the young lady.
"That's a rather cold generalization, isn't it?" she challenged.
	"No colder than the generalizations Lunaria makes of Earth,"
Jadeite answered.
	Her tone did very little to rile him or make him fear of this
getting reported to someone higher up. He'd had enough of politics
on Earth to the point where he no longer really gave a damn, and
his high-ranking position allowed him the luxury of that. As a
matter of point, not giving a damn about Terran politics was one of
the reasons he had become a General at his age.
	However, the sternness in her eyes made him uncomfortable,
and he sought to change the subject. "So what do you do here in the
palace?" he asked.
	"I'm an attendant and priestess," she answered.
	Jadeite arched one of his eyebrows. "A priestess? I don't
think I've ever met a priestess quite so," he paused and chose his
next words carefully, "beautiful as you."
	In fact he was surprised to find her a priestess. He wasn't
entirely sure what the Lunarians might worship or revere, but that
a young maiden so young would be called upon for such great
responsibilities...it reminded him of his own life in years past.
	In turn, the young maiden was surprised to be so openly
called 'beautiful.' She undeniably blushed, her cheeks going red as
her mind tried to wrap around the compliment. Jadeite could see
that she was reading too much into the remark, and trying to see
just how sincere he had been.
	A part of her was flattered. A part of her tried to shrug it
off. A part of her was stunned. A part of her was immediately
suspicious. A part of her was embarrassed. Every single part of
her, though, had just let its guard down, and Jadeite studied her
even closer now than before.
	Now it was her turn to try and change the subject.
	She asked him, "What do you think of our little lunar
world?", and tried to rid her cheeks of their flushed complexion.
	Jadeite looked around at the great halls and their elegant
designs. "Lavish. Exotic. Something Earth should strive to become,
though in its own time and design. But...."
	"But?"
	"But some of these halls are too quiet. They are deserted and
empty. They're like a tomb. It sometimes makes me wonder if Lunaria
will stagnate in its opulence, to a point where it sits complacent
without seeking change, and slowly suffocates itself."
	The look the young maiden gave Jadeite then could have
shattered the stone column behind him, and he knew that he had
crossed a line in being too open with his words.
	"I've offended you, haven't I?" he said.
	Her eyes did not look favourably towards him. "More than you
know," she growled.
	"Not to sound rude, Milady," Jadeite said, "but you are not
the first person I have ever offended, and I doubt you'll be the
last. But I think what's offended you the most is that there is a
slight ring of truth to my concerns about Lunaria, and you have
felt it as well."
	The indignation she felt at the accusation flared up within
her eyes, and burned so fiercely Jadeite wondered if it would ever
abate and die out. "What do you know about how I feel?" she snapped
at him.
	Jadeite remained composed and emotionally detached from the
scorn and hurt in her voice. "I know you're being more personable
with me than you'd prefer," he said.
	She was caught between trying to glare at him and trying to
restrain her tongue from lashing out against him. There was a time
where knowing such a thing would have cut him, and it would have
hurt deeply, but he had long forgotten what it was like to care
whenever someone looked at him with those eyes.
	"You'll have to forgive me," Jadeite said, bowing his head.
"I've fought as many battles and lived as long I have because I pay
attention to people a little too well. It was not my place to read
you so closely; I am admittedly not used to such relaxed
environments."
	She did not wholly forgive him, nor did she seem to fully
trust his apology. With narrowed eyes she shook her head at him,
then walked past him and continued towards her destination.
	"What's your name?" he called out after her.
	"Rei." She had answered him without stopping and without
turning back.
	Jadeite rolled the name around in his mouth. It had a curious
sound to it, and 'Rei' was the closest equivalent he could come to
pronouncing it.
	"Will I see you at the masque tonight?" Jadeite asked.
	"Perhaps."
	A 'perhaps' was admittedly better than an 'I would sooner rot
in hell'.
	Somehow Jadeite found himself smiling, though he wasn't sure
of the reason. It might have been that he had been able to play a
game with a Lunarian, a very special one at that, and it had proven
no different than the games he played with Terrans. It might have
been because, in spite of the cruelty of the game, she had given
him a 'perhaps' and nothing colder.
	"Do you want to know my name?"
	She paused for a moment. Only a moment. And she told him:
"No."
	Jadeite smiled as he turned and began to retrace his path
back to the guest suite. She had given him a 'perhaps', which was
tentative at best. However, she had also given him something else
that had not been conveyed through words. She would be at the
masque, he held little doubt of that.
	The trick would be finding her amidst all those costumes.
	"Until then, Rei."


				*	*	*
	For anyone, waiting tests the limits of patience. Endymion's
Generals were no different, nor were they exempt from the
irritation that comes with boredom and listlessness. Zoicite idled
in circles, and Nephrite grew irritable in his chair. "Will you
stop pacing the room like this?" he said finally. "You're making me
dizzy."
	"Well, what am I supposed to do, Nephrite?" Zoicite said. He
gestured to a room filled with sitting furniture and little else.
"I'm too awake to sleep, I'm not about to go gallivanting around
the palace like Jadeite, and anything I could otherwise occupy
myself with isn't here yet!"
	Nephrite scowled at him. "Then let me give you something."
	He stormed over to the closed doors of his bedchambers, and
flung them open. A few seconds later he emerged, katana in hand,
and levelled the tip of its blade with Zoicite's chest.  "You," he
stated, "can limp your way to the masque now and possibly make it
there on time, depending on how fast you crawl."
	A vicious smile preyed upon Zoicite's face. He walked over to
his bedchambers and emerged with his own weapon. Zoicite unsheathed
his katana and tossed the scabbard into his chambers. "At your
leisure, General."
	They stood quiet and motionless for only a moment, their
bodies tense and waiting for the first assault to begin. Nephrite
was the first to attack, and he lunged for Zoicite while thrusting
his blade at Zoicite's stomach.
	Zoicite narrowed evaded the attack by spinning himself out of
the way, and he refused to stay only on the defensive edge. He
swung his sword at Nephrite's open neck, but Nephrite parried with
the blade a few inches from it slashing open his jugular.
	Their opening moves completed, neither General held back any
longer. They danced and cleaved and filled the air with the sound
of metal striking against metal. Nephrite used sheer force behind
each of his blows and attacks, but Zoicite was by far the faster of
the two. The attacks he was not able to deflect with his own blade,
he dodged with his body.
	"A little more tenacious today than usual, aren't we?"
Nephrite remarked. Beads of sweat trickled down his face.
	Zoicite grinned and feigned attacking from the left. Nephrite
made to block it, but Zoicite was already swinging in an upwards
arc from the right. Nephrite jerked his head back, his chin almost
cut by the tip of Zoicite's sword.
	They pulled apart and started racing around the common room,
leaping over the chairs and trying to spear each other from
opposite sides of the sofas. The end came when they charged each
other, and swung their blades around for one final, decisive
strike.
	Zoicite's blade stopped a mere breath away from Nephrite's
throat.
	Nephrite's blade stopped right over Zoicite's heart.
	They became a frozen tableau, glaring at each other and
refusing the move. The glaring came to an abrupt halt when they
could no longer contain their laughter, and drew back their blades
away from each other.
	"Nothing entertains quite so well as a duel," Nephrite
sighed, dropping down onto a chair. He laid his katana out on the
table before him, and put his feet up next to it.
	"Defeating you would make for better entertainment," Zoicite
said as he strolled into his chambers to retrieve his scabbard. "I
hate stalemates."
	Nephrite shook his head. "Not going to happen so long as we
fight in a place we have to keep in pristine condition. They might
have a duelling arena somewhere in the palace. I mean, those Sailor
Soldier girls have to train and fight somewhere, don't they?"
	Someone knocked on the main doors.
	"It's open!" Nephrite called out in Lunarian
	The double doors were pushed open, and a large cart holding
stacks of trunks and travel cases was wheeled in by two young men
who were quick to leave. The young woman who entered with them,
however, lingered inside the guest suite.
	Nephrite leaned his head back against the chair and exclaimed
up at the ceiling, "Thank Amateratsu, they finally decided to
deliver our luggage!"
	Zoicite stuck his head out from his bedchambers. "Oh, I like
this development."
	He turned his gaze to the young woman standing next to their
baggage. She was tall, unusually tall, and her skin was incredibly
tanned. Her eyes were a brilliant, deep magenta. Long, dark hair
draped down her back and hung past her waist.
	Everyone in Lunaria seemed to have exceptionally long hair.
	The attendant bowed her head first to Nephrite, and then to
Zoicite. "I trust your accommodations meet with your approval." She
spoke Terran-Nihongo, and she spoke it very well. "Halcyon Queen
wanted me to visit you before the masque to ensure that your needs
were being taken care of."
	Nephrite arched one of his eyebrows. "Oh?"
	As if knowing what he was suddenly thinking, the attendant
stated, "Not in that sense, and besides, you're not my type."
	Zoicite let out a bark of laughter, and Nephrite shot him a
look.
	"If there is anything that you might require at this moment
to make your stay here in Lunaria more pleasant," the attendant
said, ever so courteous as she smiled at them, "do let me know now,
and I will make the necessary arrangements."
	Zoicite and Nephrite glanced at each other.
	"I don't know about you," Nephrite said, "but I don't think
my hunger can wait until this ball. Some food would be nice."
	Zoicite nodded and turned to the attendant. "Any
recommendations you'd like to offer?"
	"That depends. Sweet or filling?"
	Zoicite said, "Sweet", and Nephrite, "Filling." Upon hearing
each other's glaring contradiction of an answer, they turned to
each other with looks of mild annoyance.
	The attendant chuckled. "I will bring you some of both,
then," she said to them. "Would you prefer Lunarian dishes, or
something from your land? Our chefs are skilled in preparing
either."
	Nephrite shrugged and gestured for Zoicite to do the
ordering.
	"Um, I guess a bit of both will do," he said. "Surprise us."
	The attendant nodded her head.
	"How about a pitcher of hot Sake?" came Endymion's voice.
	Everyone turned their heads.
	Endymion had opened one of his doors, an arm raised and
leaning against the doorframe. He looked like he had just recently
dragged himself from the bedsheets. His pants were wrinkled, but it
was impossible to tell if his shirt was just as wrinkled, namely
because he wasn't wearing one. Endymion smiled at the attendant,
and it was a smile his Generals recognized. One meant to placate
sceptics and cause maidens to swoon or giggle at his roguish charm.
Zoicite rolled his eyes; it wasn't hard to see which of the two it
was this time.
	"Sah-kay?" the attendant asked, sounding out the syllables.
	"A Terran-Nihonjin drink," Endymion explained. "It's a rice
wine."
	The attendant smiled. "Ah, I know the drink you speak of. We
have a different name for it here. If you are willing to wait, I
can have your Sake delivered to you within the hour. How many cups
will you require?"
	Nephrite told her, "Five", and then shrugged over at Zoicite.
"Jadeite might reappear before we polish off the pitcher."
	Endymion was still keeping eye contact with their attendant.
"What is your name?" he asked her.
	"Setsuna."
	Endymion grinned. "Setsuna, is it? I shall speak well of your
name to the queen herself. Thank you for your services, Milady."
	"No," Setsuna said in an enigmatic voice.  "Thank you."
	Some time after Setsuna had left with the empty luggage
trolley, Jadeite returned. Artemis was draped over his shoulder,
looking quite content.
	Nephrite gave the cat a quick, dismissive glance. "What is
that?"
	"He followed me home," Jadeite quipped. "Can we keep him?"
	"I guess they have cats on Lunaria after all," Zoicite said.
	"His name's Artemis," Jadeite told them. He sat down in one
the chairs, and Artemis hopped off his shoulder to explore the
suite.
	Zoicite glanced down at the cat weaving around his legs. "How
do you know that?"
	Jadeite allowed himself a quiet, knowing smile. "A little
soldier told me so."
	At that, Endymion had to laugh. "You met someone, didn't
you?"
	"She's quite the firecracker," Jadeite agreed. "I do believe
she was debating between inviting me out to a private dinner, or
punching me in the stomach."
	Nephrite rolled his eyes. "Ever the ladies' man."
	With two hours remaining before their presence was required
at the masque, they had very little to do save for unpack their
belongings. Somewhere along the way, Kunzite awoke and stumbled
groggily out from his bedchambers. He looked down at the last
remaining piece of their baggage: a large, wooden chest ornately
carved with Terran-Nihonjin reliefs and murals.
	"I see the seal is unbroken," he said.
	Nephrite looked up from a book he was reading. "That's not to
say they didn't try, but as you can see, if they did try to open it
they had little luck." With a rueful smile on his face, he then
added, "I guess they felt that breaking the seal outright would
make it too obvious how little they trust us."
	"They probably searched all of our personal luggage as well,"
Kunzite murmured. In a louder voice he said to the others, "I trust
everyone kept their more questionable items either at home or in
this chest, like we all agreed upon before coming here."
	"You know, we're not Generals simply because we just happen
to look good in uniform," Zoicite remarked dryly from his
bedchambers.
	Endymion strolled out from his room, looking content after
finding his own possessions in order. "Is the Sake here yet?" he
asked.
	Nephrite shook his head.
	Kunzite gestured down at the chest. "Should we open it now,
Endymion?"
	"Let's wait, unless anyone urgently requires something inside
of it," Endymion replied. "I'd as soon not have a member of the
cleaning staff stumble across something they shouldn't."
	"Don't you mean 'snoop'?" Nephrite remarked.
	"Either or," Endymion said with a shrug. He helped Kunzite
drag the chest into his chambers, where it could stay out of plain
sight.
	The Sake and food was brought to them in time, though not by
Setsuna, and between the five of them they made swift work of
emptying the Sake pitcher. Despite his age, even Jadeite was a
skilled drinker when it came to Sake, and so while they felt
pleasantly warm in their bellies, no one could accuse Endymion or
his Generals of either looking or acting drunk.
	Artemis was given a number of the smaller, more digestible
treats, and he seemed very pleased with all the attention being
given to him.
	With a half an hour left before it was time for their escort
to arrive and show them to the masquerade, they all began to groom
themselves for the event. The Generals shed their armoured attire
in favour of something just as formal but no less vulnerable. It
was a curious combination of silken robes underneath decorative
plates of armour. Small but exquisitely designed breastplates and
backplates were connected by leather to a pauldron covering the
left shoulder. Sizeable, polished gemstones decorated key parts or
connections in their armour.
	"It works," Zoicite said as he finished tightening a pair of
metal-plated gaiters around his calves, "but I doubt it'll become a
fashion trend on Lunaria anytime soon."
	With five minutes before their summons was due, the five
Terran emissaries assembled in the common room.
	"Are you ready for this?" Kunzite asked his prince.
	Endymion nodded, dressed in the same armour he had worn with
their arrival upon Lunaria. "We've all done formal events enough
times on Earth," he said. "This should prove no different. I hope."
	"Who gets to be the shadow tonight?" Nephrite asked. He was
distracted more with a set of rebellious armguards that refused to
be done up.
	"No shadow," Endymion said. "The four of you are free to roam
inside the ballroom as you please."
	All four Generals stopped what they were doing and lifted
their gazes to their prince. The disbelief and surprise on each of
their faces was notable.
	"My prince," Zoicite said, "I know you want to show Lunaria
your good faith, but it's reckless to not have one of us guarding
you in such a public event."
	Endymion's answer was to draw the Soul Constellation out
partway.  "I'm bringing this," he stated, and sheathed the blade.
"I want each of you armed at all times while we're here. If anyone
raises a fuss, tell them it's ceremonial, a part of our dress
uniform."
	He headed towards the front doors of their suite, Artemis
following behind him. "We are here to be their guests, not lambs to
the slaughter."


				*	*	*
	Their procession took fifteen minutes of complicated twists
and turns throughout the palace halls, and apparently it required
no less than ten soldiers and five attendants to escort Endymion
and his Generals to the ballroom.
	"Remember," Kunzite muttered to them in their native language
as they reached their destination. "If you have to draw your
swords, make sure it's a just cause."
	A towering set of double doors wrought with gold trimmings
swung out, revealing the immense ballroom inside. It was already
filled with a sea of Lunarians parading about in costumes and
masks. The music they were celebrating to faded out, and everyone
turned to see what new guest of honour had just arrived.
	"Endymion of the Terran-Nihongo empire, and his trusted
Generals," the herald at the door called out in a voice that echoed
perfectly across the gargantuan expanses and vaulted ceilings.
	There were murmurs of awe and suspicion, and some polite
applause.
	"Trusted, is it?" Zoicite murmured to Nephrite, an amused
look on his face. "As opposed to the untrusted Generals in his
employ?"
	Nephrite stifled a chuckle.
	The doors closed shut behind them, and the music resumed.
	The ballroom was spherical in design, and once they were
inside, it proved to be even larger and more ornate than it had
first appeared. There were free-standing pillars decorated with
Lunarian murals. The columns supporting the walls were sculpted to
resemble angels of unparalleled grace and beauty, whose hands were
raised to hold up the great glass dome that was ceiling. Most of
the ballroom walls were in fact comprised of glass, and they looked
out to the Sea of Tranquillity.
	The starry sky and a looming Earth reigned above their heads.
The view failed to compare with the parade of alien faces and
gowns. Endymion's regal walk faltered once or twice as it took him
a few moments to absorb the blur of exotic if not sometimes
ridiculous costumes that everyone was wearing.
	Even Jadeite, notorious for barely ever being surprised, was
taken aback by the sheer pageantry being displayed. He slowly
turned his head as his eyes followed a woman wearing a bird-like
domino to match her violet gown adorned with peacock feathers. "You
have got to be kidding," he muttered in Terran-Nihongo.
	Kunzite drew up next to Endymion. "Where's the Queen?"
	"I don't know," Endymion said. He wanted to speak in a quiet
voice, but the loud din of the laughing crowd and the boisterous
music forced him to practically shout to be heard. "If she wasn't
there to greet us when we came in, then I'm betting her entrance
will be later. We might as well mingle as best we can."
	"You just watch yourself," Kunzite said.
	Endymion nodded. "Always."
	An eternity and an hour passed them by in the masque.
	The music settled down, and so did the crowd. The noise
became more tolerable to Kunzite. Strange how he had grown
indifferent to the cries of hundreds of foot-soldiers and horsemen
charging to collide with each other in battle, yet this orchestra
and its dancers rang harsh in his ears. He stood away from the
centre of the ballroom, where most of the dancers clustered
together, and did as best a sweep as he could given the sheer
volume of people and distractions.
	Jadeite and Nephrite were at one of the long, curving buffet
tables by the windows. They ate very little. On the opposite side
of the ballroom, Zoicite stood against one of the pillars and
listened to the cacophony of conversations. Endymion remained the
only one of them who plunged into the heart of the crowd, smiling
and greeting and chatting amicable small talk with those who
stopped him or took him aside to ask questions.
	Everyone seemed to be keeping considerable distance from
Kunzite and the other three Generals. Kunzite had to be honest with
himself: he really didn't care, and if anything preferred it this
way. Their presence was known, and it would put a damper on
anyone's wishes to bring harm to Endymion.
	He also took note of two or three side exits that some people
were darting in and out of. Those doors, smaller and made to look
innocuous so as not to detract from the ballroom's splendour, led
to washroom facilities, and probably a kitchen.
	Kunzite exhaled as if deeply burdened by what he saw. A part
of all this revelling he could understand. The rest he simply could
not.
	"Some parts of Earth find people fighting just to eat a
single meal each day, and these people here dance and flaunt their
luxury away each night," he said to himself. He shook his head. "If
Terrans weren't so damned stubborn about refusing outside help, I'd
have reason to complain."
	"An interesting observation," a voice behind him drawled,
speaking excellent Terran-Nihongo. She still could not hide the
Lunarian accent hanging from each syllable.
	Surprised, Kunzite slowly turned his head. Just behind him
stood a young lady perhaps a head shorter than he was. She was
dressed in long, flowing robes of white and silver, and the mask
she wore was that of a great, shimmering snowflake. Long, golden
blonde hair tumbled down her back, and around her forehead was a
tiara of silver and blue gemstones shaped like tears.
	She also happened to be wearing a grin that laid somewhere
between a polite smile and a playful, flirtatious smirk.
	Kunzite gave the young princess a careful appraisal, and
found he could not dismiss a most unnerving sense of déjà vu. "Have
we...met before somewhere?" he asked her.
	"I don't know," she demurred, tilting her head to one side.
"Have we?"
	Kunzite mentally raced through the dozens of faces he had
encountered since arriving on the moon. Finally his lips were
pursed into a thin smile. "You have me at a disadvantage, Sailor
Venus," he said.
	"Sailor Venus is a name I wear only when I wear my uniform
along with it," she said. "You may call me, Minako."
	At least that's what it sounded like when she spoke it.
	"Minako, then," Kunzite agreed, nodding his head. "You still
have me at a disadvantage. I am all too easily visible in such
surroundings, and you could be mistaken for any other courtier."
	"So I'm just like any other courtier?" she huffed in mock
indignation.
	"I have yet to see you set yourself above this parade of
social butterflies," Kunzite replied, nodding with his head towards
the gleeful dancers.
	"There hasn't been enough time for me to do that," Minako
said.
	Her playfully serious tone piqued Kunzite's interest. "Then I
look forward to seeing if you meet with my expectations of what a
Sailor Soldier is like," he said.
	Minako smiled and moved around him in a twirl that sent the
edges of her dress billowing out around her. She came to a stop
right in front of him, almost pressed right against his chest.
	"How am I doing so far?" she asked.
	"You're impressing me. Doesn't mean I trust you, though."
	Minako's smile broadened and she placed a fingertip upon
Kunzite's lips. "And how do you know I'm not being personable just
to lower your guard and get whatever it is I want from you?"
	"Oh, you mean you're not doing that right now?" Kunzite said,
feigning surprise. "Then what sort of game are we playing?"
	"The game everyone here plays, General." Minako stood on her
toes and leaned in closer to his ear. "I will make this clear only
once," she whispered. "You do anything to bring harm to Serenity,
and I will kill you."
	So she had bite to her as well. Right then, she went up in
Kunzite's estimates. "May I lovingly whisper a threat of my own?"
he asked quietly. It was his turn to bring his lips closer to
Minako's ear and say, "If you do anything to harm Endymion, you
need not worry about me. He will kill you before I get the chance
to try."
	If his words alarmed her, Minako showed no signs of concern
or agitation. Her smile never wavered, nor did the playful glimmer
in her eyes.
	"Well," Kunzite said, "It appears we know where the other
stands. Care to dance?"
	Minako laughed. "Are you flirting with me, General?"
	"That all depends on where we end up after this."
	"My bed's only big enough for one," she told him.
	"Mine isn't."
	She arched one of her eyebrows. "Is that an offer?"
	"Captured your interest, have I?"
	Minako took his hand and led him towards the other dancers.
"I judge a man by how he dances, General. I hope you don't
disappoint me."
	Kunzite did not disappoint.
	In fact, his energetic dance with Minako, consisting mostly
of pushing each other apart and then fiercely pulling themselves
back into each other's arms, drew a number of cheering onlookers.
	"Son of a bitch," Nephrite remarked as he watched from the
crowd. "I never thought I'd see the day he, of any of us, would be
the first to dance with a total stranger."  He took a sip from his
wine glass. "Either these drinks are stronger than we thought, or
he's doing whatever it takes to make a good impression with
everyone in this room."
	"I don't know about that," Jadeite said. He glanced over at
his comrade. "With Kunzite, the words 'flirting' and 'gathering
information' are interchangeable."
	With a "Hpmh", Nephrite directed his attention elsewhere.
	Just then Jadeite stiffened as, for a moment, he could have
sworn he'd seen the little white cat weaving its way between the
feet of the dancers. But he lost sight of the blur of white fur all
too quickly, and was unable to verify what he thought it might have
been.


				*	*	*
	Zoicite idly stood with his back against one of the
gargantuan pillars, a half-empty snifter of Lunarian wine in one of
his hands. He glanced down at the reddish liquid and swirled it
around. For as bored as he looked, he was still listening, his ears
catching fragments of conversations from the party-goers passing
him by. So far they had little of value to say.
	"I would be delighted if you met me in the Wisteria Garden
tomorrow, Madame."
	"Ha! Now there's something I can drink to!"
	"Is that one of them?"
	"He's too cute to be a Terran."
	"Look at him scowl. Do they all scowl like that?"
	"He wears a sword even to something as festive as this? How
vulgar."
	"I hear all Terrans sleep with knives under their pillows.
They don't trust anyone."
	"Why is our beloved Halcyon Queen even wanting them to join
our empire anyways?"
	"If he wasn't a barbaric Terran, I'd ask him to dance."
	"Then I will. I like my men a little rough."
	Zoicite growled and left his place before anyone could draw
closer to him. It was bordering on disgusting, and he honestly
questioned whether he should bring any of this to Endymion's
attention. The last thing Endymion needed was to hear how
overwhelmingly negative, not to mention how condescending, the
sentiments towards Earth were.
	He brushed past a waiter and set his glass on the tray.
	If it was one thing he knew, it was that misery loved
company. His eyes started roving across the ballroom in search of
Jadeite or Nephrite. At least they could commiserate to a perfectly
ruined evening.
	Zoicite abruptly paused, his gaze coming to rest on a single
face amidst the churning parade of colours and masks. The man wore
the uniform of a waiter, his domino a simple black to match his
vest, yet it could not hide his eyes. They were vengeful eyes,
quick to anger and slow to forgiveness, and they were focussed
directly on Endymion.
	Those eyes were unlike any other pair he had seen in this
masquerade, and for that reason Zoicite took quick notice. He
remained still, an object at rest as revellers danced around him,
never taking his attention away from the waiter.
	Their gazes connected.
	The waiter seemed surprised that he was being watched,
perhaps even a little shaken, and was quick to make himself vanish
back into the thick of the masquerade.
	"Hello," Zoicite said quietly as the waiter scuttled off.
"Who are you?"
	He made a quick note of the time. A portion of tomorrow would
be spent finding the names of the staff working this masque.
	Fanfare sounded.
	Dancers and revellers and music alike stopped and came to
attention. The great double doors of the ballroom opened up to
reveal another impressive entourage making its entrance. "Halcyon
Queen," the herald called out, "and her daughter, the princess:
Serenity."
	The crowds parted down the centre of the ballroom, creating a
clear, straight line for the Queen's procession. Of the hundred or
so people, only three did not move aside, and they had the unspoken
authority to do so. Endymion stood waiting as Halcyon and Serenity
made their way into the ballroom, his posture giving them the
respect they deserved. Behind him stood Kunzite, and next to
Kunzite was Minako.
	Halcyon was adorned in a gown of gossamer and white silk that
flowed and fluttered around her body as if the very air itself had
been woven into the fabric. A pair of translucent wings was upon
her back, making her look more faerie than angel Her daughter wore
a flowing gown of silver, and it almost resembled a very fanciful
wedding dress. The two long ponytails of Serenity's blonde hair
were laced with silver ribbons, and she wore strings of pearls on
her wrists.
	"Halcyon Queen," Endymion said, falling to one knee before
her. Many of the Lunarians in the ballroom marvelled at his
respect.
	Minako elbowed Kunzite in the ribs, and he followed her lead
as they went down on bended knee as well. The entire ballroom
became a wave of reverent patrons kneeling down to pay homage to
their queen.
	"Looks like Endymion's started a new trend," Nephrite
murmured to Jadeite as they bowed with the rows of people in the
rear of the ballroom.
	Halcyon favoured Endymion with a warm smile. "Rise,
Endymion," she said softly, and he did. "I am honoured by your
actions. I don't think Earth could have given us a better
representative."
	"I thank the Queen for her praises," Endymion answered in
Lunarian.
	Halcyon switched to Terran-Nihongo. "You put on quite the
show."
	"I have a very critical audience to impress," he responded in
the like.
	The Queen switched back to her mother tongue. "Welcome to
Lunaria, Endymion. May the moon shine its smile upon you for as
long as you remain. Now, it is customary at historic events such as
this that you be granted a dance."
	Endymion looked at her curiously.
	"Oh no, not me," Halcyon said, a flattered yet amused smile
on her face. She stepped aside and gestured to Serenity, who was
staring down at the floor and trying not to look so obvious about
it. "My daughter."
	Taken by a bit of surprise, and then amusement at how easily
it had surprised him, Endymion tipped his chin down to Serenity.
She was still trying to avoid his eyes. If he didn't know any
better, she was behaving as if she had no idea how to act around
him. That might very well have been true. How many Lunarian
dignitaries, if any, had she danced with during royal functions? He
was something wholly different, a foreigner who had no reason to
kowtow or pay her lipservice. He was an independent force, and she
knew nothing about him.
	Endymion delicately took her hand in his, and knelt down to
kiss the back of her hand. A chorus of titters rose up from the
crowd, especially at Serenity's reaction. She seemed startled and
blushed furiously. No one had seen her react that way before.
	And then Endymion understood: her hand might have been kissed
by former dance partners because it was a ritual, an obligation. He
had done it out of choice, knowing little of the formalities of
Lunarian dance.
	"May I have this dance?" he asked her, rising back to his
full stature.
	Serenity nodded.
	The crowds shifted and moved to create a large, open ring
around the two.
	Music stirred to life, quiet and haunting at first, then
rising to a greater crescendo. They danced and moved and glided
beside one another. Endymion led, but engaged in a traditional
Lunarian dance so that Serenity might not get lost and lose face
before her audience. It became quickly apparent to him that the
need was not necessary at all, for she followed after each of his
footsteps with a grace he had never before seen.
	All through their dance, her eyes watched him and nothing
else. Endymion was enchanted and unnerved all at once, and almost
faltered in some of his steps when brought beneath her gaze.
	The music for their first dance slowly faded to quiet, and
their song ended.
	Endymion lingered in holding her, and a part of him was oddly
surprised by another part that wanted to dance with Serenity again.
Serenity herself seemed reluctant to part, or perhaps she was just
waiting for him to draw away first. He bowed to her as a gesture of
thanks for letting him have that dance. In return, Serenity stood
up on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. It could
have been a harmless kiss, nothing more than a chaste peck. It
could have been something more. With Serenity's eyes, it was hard
to tell what she was thinking.
	Endymion watched as she tried to hide her blushing face by
turning away and walking over to her mother. His cheek tingled from
the touch of her lips. Endymion raised a hand to his cheek and
gently felt where her kiss had been. Then, for a reason he could
not fully explain even to himself, he smiled.
	He watched her as she performed some formal ballroom dances
with other regal courtesans or nobles, and every now and again he
caught her turning her head in his direction. Every now and again,
a Lunarian reveller would ask him the honour of dancing, and he was
swept into the heart of the ballroom.
	The Generals were not asked to dance, save for Kunzite, and
they did not feel the least bit offended by being snubbed.
Kunzite's bravado earlier in the evening had garnered him some
acclaim and more female admirers than he'd preferred to have.
Minako saved him twice from clumsy dancing and boring small talk by
cutting in to his dance and stealing him away from some courtesan
or noblewoman.
	It was half past the midnight hour when Endymion was able to
slip away from the ballroom. Kunzite was at his side.
	Nephrite and Zoicite had already retired to their guest suite
with two bottles of Lunarian wine they had liberated from one of
the catering tables, and Jadeite had asked to remain a few minutes
longer to study the faces of the people watching Endymion leave.
	The corridors guiding them back to welcomed beds and warm
blankets were empty, their footsteps resonating up and down the
great halls. Many of the people were still celebrating the masque,
even though their Queen had discreetly slipped away an hour before
midnight.
       "You seem in a pleasant mood," Kunzite remarked.
	Endymion glanced over at his friend. "You sound surprised,
Kunzite."
	"Well," Kunzite said, "if I had to hazard a guess, I'd think
it might have something to do with Serenity."
	Endymion was chagrined.  "Was it that obvious?"
	He sighed and turned his head to one of the open courtyards
they were passing. High overhead was the Earth, their home, and on
prominent display was the South American continent. "There's
something about her, isn't there?"
	"She's Lunarian, and royal blood at that," Kunzite said.
"There may yet be some mystical aspects about her we do not yet
know. Lunaria is after all a matriarchy; it's the women who have
the power and the rule here."
	Endymion shook his head. "It's not that, Kunzite. It's more
than that. It's her smile."
	It was an answer Kunzite had not been expecting, and at first
he did not fully believe he had heard it. "Her...smile?"
	Endymion nodded, and his own smile greatened at the memory
alone. "They way she smiled, it...it was pure. A child's smile,
trusting and warm. She never doubted me, or our intentions. She had
no ulterior motives, no hidden agendas." He turned his head towards
Kunzite. "It was like she just accepted me for what I was, good and
bad, even though she had just met me. Like she's never seen the
things that I have."
	"I hope she doesn't have to," Kunzite admitted. "You went
through worse than any child deserves, but it's made you strong and
unshakeable. Your ordeals worked for you instead of against you,
even you admit that."
	"I know," Endymion agreed. "But when I saw her smile, when I
saw how wonderful and innocent her childhood had been, I wished I
could have smiled back at her like that. When I couldn't, I...I don't
know."
	Kunzite considered his prince's words, and then drew his lips
into a wry smile. "Do you believe in love at first sight, my
prince?"
	"What sort of question is that?"
	"The sort of question that a person who's fallen in love at
first sight tends to dodge when asked." Kunzite had to grin as
Endymion's face went flush.
	They reached the doors to their guest suite. Endymion made
quick effort of opening the doors and leaving Kunzite two or three
steps behind.
	Zoicite and Nephrite were lounging on the chairs in the
common room. Half of one of the bottles of Lunarian wine was
already gone. "Ah, Kunzite!" Nephrite drawled. He raised a glass
brimming with wine. "A toast to the unflattering and ill-spoken
words the Lunarians had for us."
	Kunzite did not seem overly impressed.
	"It's true," Nephrite said, undaunted, and he drank back half
the glass' contents in a single swallow. "Don't pretend you didn't
hear what people in there were saying about us."
	"I heard," Kunzite conceded. He looked down at the various
pieces of Nephrite's armour strewn about of the floor in a trail
leading to Nephrite's chair.
	"You should watch it," Endymion cautioned as he went into his
bedchambers to change out of uniform. "Lunarian wine may not have a
higher alcohol content than Sake does, but with our bodies
adjusting to all the atmospheric changes of this place, it will hit
you hard in the--"
	"Thanks for the safety tip, my prince," Nephrite pleasantly
cut in, "but I'll deal with my hangover tomorrow."
	Kunzite glanced over at Zoicite, who was already out of
uniform and sporting more casual attire. "I think he's already
drunk," Zoicite said.
	"Just how many glasses of wine have you had since the start
of the masque, Nephrite?" Endymion asked.
	Nephrite sat back in his chair, ticked off three fingers, and
then cheerfully stated, "Too much."
	"He had a good deal of Sake before the masque to boot,"
Zoicite sighed. "And on Earth he could drink any of us under the
table and still be able to fight a battle without getting blood on
his armour. Go figure."
	Kunzite retired to his bedchambers and changed out of
uniform. A few minutes after Kunzite had closed his doors, Jadeite
stepped into the common room, with Artemis tagging along after him.
	"What have you done, adopt him?" Nephrite said as he looked
down at the little white cat.
	Zoicite shrugged. "Looks like love to me."
	"Very amusing," Jadeite said, already at work unfastening his
pauldron from his breastplate. "The masque is still going strong,
and from what I hear it won't slow down at all until four in the
morning."
	"And I thought three consecutive battle watches was bad,"
Zoicite sighed.
	"Could be worse," Jadeite offered. "Imagine if Lunarians
didn't work by a twenty-four hour day the way we do."
	Nephrite scowled, and the colour of his face seemed to go
from bad to worse. "Thirty-six hours of ballroom dancing," he
groaned. "My head hurts from just thinking that!"
	"That's the wine, you idiot," Zoicite retorted.
	The three Generals turned their heads as Endymion returned to
the common room, and gestured to the low table in the middle of the
sofa and chairs. Currently it was being occupied by four wine
glasses, two wine bottles, a tray of food Zoicite had heisted from
the masque, and a stack of Nephrite's books.
	"Clear the table off, but don't put the wine too far out of
reach," Endymion said. He sat down on the sofa and made himself
comfortable.
	"What's going on?" Zoicite asked.
	Endymion grinned and leaned back into the sofa. In one of his
hands was an elaborately-decorated deck of cards. "My way of saying
thanks for tonight," he said. "Believe me, I'd have been the first
one out that ballroom door if the chance presented itself. So here
it is, gentlemen: late-night poker."
	"I'm in," Nephrite stated right away, pulling his chaise
closer to the table.
	Jadeite arched his eyebrows. "Are you even sober enough to
hold your cards, let alone bluff?"
	"Sit your ass down and find out," was Nephrite's response.
	Rolling his eyes, Jadeite sat down. "Who can argue with
that?" he said.
	Artemis was quick to hop onto his lap, and curl up there for
a long nap.
	"Count me in," Zoicite added as he grabbed Nephrite's books
and set them next to one of the pillars. The tray of food was put
on an empty chair, and the wine was left in the middle of the
table.
	The doors to Kunzite's bedchambers opened, and he stepped
out, dressed only in a pair of casual pants.
	"Kunzite, are you joining us?" Zoicite asked.
	Endymion smirked and set down the deck of cards in front of
the vacant seat on his right. "Who do you think is dealing?"
	Kunzite sat down and shuffled the deck. "The game is this,"
he stated as he began to slide the cards across the table to each
player. "Five cards, two rounds, and this time the Suit of the Sun
rules all...."



   The dance continues soon with the turn of an unfriendly card...





Sailormoon, its characters, struggles and story, are copyright and
the children of Naoko Takeuchi. No recognition of my story can be
made without giving her proper recognition first. There are
original characters in my story (Spinel and the twins at this
moment), and if you wish to make use of them I'd rather you asked
first rather than after the fact.


Close, personal thanks goes out to: Mel, who gave this story a
thorough scrutinizing and told me where the holes were lurking; to
The Fic Bitch, who told me in no uncertain terms that I have no
fashion sense whatsoever, and was absolutely right; and to Blue,
who's been an all-around inspiration.


My sincerest appreciations to Andrea & George for creating,
updating, maintaining and revising 'A Sailormoon Romance.'
(www.moonromance.net) It is good to know that so many wonderful
stories will always have a home at ASMR, and it is a good home I
will always enjoy coming back to.


Email Chaos at: hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com








	ON TERRAN-NIHONGO POKER:


Much has been lost on this ancient game of cards, which was
presumably wiped out at the end of the Silver Millennium, no doubt
during the epic and fearsome conflict that raged over the islands
that would come to be known as Japan. Of the fragments of records
that could be found, this much is known.

Terran-Nihongo "poker" consists of a very specific deck of 54
cards, two of which are specialty cards, and is divided up by four
suits of differing colours. The order of these suits (from least to
greatest) is: black, blue, gold, white.

The lower deck (what is commonly known today as the numerical part
of the deck) is comprised of, from greatest to least value:

-Suit of the Sun: Dawn (gold), Noon (white), Afternoon (blue),
 Sunset (black)
-Suit of the Moon: 1st Qtr (black), Half Moon (blue), 3rd Qtr
 (gold), Full Moon (white)
-Suit of the Stars: Kishi (black), Meikyu (gold), Sorata (blue),
 the North Star/Karasu (white)
-Suit of the Seasons: Fall (gold), Winter (black), Spring (blue),
 Summer (white)
-Suit of the Ages: Infant (white), Child (blue), Adult (gold), Old
 man (black)
-Suit of the Fates: Time (gold), Balance (blue), Trials (black),
 the Heart (white)
-Suit of the Towers: North Tower (white), South Tower (black), East
 Tower (gold), West Tower (blue)

The upper deck (what is commonly known today as the face cards of a
deck) is comprised of, from greatest to least value:

-Suit of the Roses: Black Rose, White Rose, Gold Rose, Blue Rose
-Suit of the Kings: Black King, White King, Gold King, Blue King
-Suit of the Queens: Black Queen, White Queen, Gold Queen, Blue
 Queen
-Suit of the Princesses: Black Princess, White Princess, Gold
 Princess, Blue Princess
-Suit of the Heroes: Black Hero, White Hero, Gold Hero, Blue Hero
-Suit of the Dragons: Black Dragon, White Dragon, Gold Dragon, Blue
 Dragon

There is also a pair of notable unique cards called 'The Wild
Rose'. Using this card allows the card holder to take any card they
chose from another player's hand & exchange it with the card of
their choice.

The rules of Terran-Nihongo poker vary depending on the game and
its limitations. Commonly, players draw and discard cards in an
effort to try and gain all four cards belonging to a suit (i.e.,
the Suit of the Sun), with the player holding the highest-ranking
suit being the winner. Sometimes a specific suit can be called by
the dealer beforehand as the highest possible suit in that
particular game or round.

Other variations for viable hands from the upper deck include
gaining suits of the same colour (i.e., the Gold Rose, King, Queen,
Princess, Hero & Dragon).

The lower deck holds more variations, and as a result the different
hands that can be played grow more complicated. Among some of them
are included what are referred to as 'Ascensions', where specific
cards can be used in a specific ascending or descending order
(i.e., the Dawn Sun / the Half Moon / the North Star; or the Child
Age / the Trial Fate / the East Tower).

There are also what has been known as 'Beloveds' among the lower
deck, that is suits which are complimentary to each other. Owning
at least 2 cards from each suit can result in a playable hand. Some
Beloved pairings include: the Fate & the Tower; the Kings & the
Queens; the Season & the Ages; the Moon & the Stars; the Dragon &
the Rose. As implied by these few pairings, Beloveds are exclusive
to suits of either the lower deck or upper deck.

Sadly, there is little else regarding this game that survived the
fall of the Silver Millennium, so there is no way of knowing how
exactly how many different card combinations were possible, or what
hierarchical value was assigned to the combinations.