"Uh oh," Farrow utters, shading his eyes as he peers over from the other side of the fort, ducked behind a merlon.

"What is it, sir?" A young woman asks, bow at the ready. 

"The queen is definitely going to see that," he grumbles. Crap, it's a lot more visible than he figured it would be. Oh well. Accidents happen, maybe nobody will come to check on it, even if that was a few barrels of black powder exploding. Yeah. Totally. He surveys the gaping hole in the charred brick. Okay, more than a few barrels. 

"She might be too far by now," the major claims, checking her pocket watch. "The crown princess could see it, though." Nicolas Farrow smirks, the sun's sparkle in his eyes. They should be fine then. She's a smart young woman. They’re good, at least until someone notifies the queen.

"We can handle a child," he says, "if she even arrives. Major, nine o'clock." Farrow aims his own bow in the other direction, their arrows fwishing through the air in unison, and into their targets. The fighting spilled outside a while ago, a good distraction for a small group to begin destroying queensmen's supplies. A second explosion shakes his aim as he releases another arrow. He clicks his tongue in annoyance; he'd had a perfect hit streak going today. No matter, the sound of winning soothes the irritation. Now, they just have to keep this situation contained to the fortress.

✦✦✦

The crowd is well above muttering at this point, rumors of the worst spreading amongst them as their heads crane to see the smoke clouds in the distance. If Cloud's being honest, it's not much of a distance. It's not even sudden anymore when a third boom outperforms the pounding of footsteps and banging of the drums. Thankfully, Cloud rides on a war horse, not easily spooked. The size of those pillars concerns her, though. Without leaning over, Cloud evenly asks one of the escorts beside her, "Just how far away is the fortress from here?" It's an innocent question. It's the only nearby building that could be expected to have explosives. 

"Right now, it's a street away, Your Highness," he replies in equal nonchalance. A street? Just one?! She could've sworn the march was farther away! That proximity makes sense, looking at that smoke. A fourth explosion ignites fearful gasps from the crowd. Something is wrong, and everyone can feel it. Some children begin to release shrill cries. Most of the march stares straight ahead, the soldiers fearing their superiors far more than some commotion. They may as well be wearing the same blinders as the horses. Some of Cloud's escorts survey the people in a much colder, more obvious version of what she's been doing: keeping an eye out for anyone who may intend to harm her. Perhaps that's why Cloud, the only one in the march really looking up at all, sees the incoming debris.

A street away. Cannons can shoot a mile. Who knows what random explosions can do! Like stars raining down from the High Realm, bits of brick, metal, and whatever else that building is made of hones in at the crowd. At the people! No, no, no! A street away! And nobody thought to do anything earlier! They're soldiers; they're supposed to protect the citizens! The incompetence! Cloud figured they were at least far enough away for anything heavy to miss them, but no! A street away! Cloud grits her teeth, hands sparking. People scream, finally catching the attention of some soldiers, but it's too late for them to do much. In the moment they take to process, Cloud's glowing hands fly to the sky, the rubble careening directly at the crowd.

She can’t outright stop the debris, but Cloud can use the built-up momentum from its fall to swing the debris to the side in the beginnings of a spiral. "Step aside, please!" She orders, tone even as the rubble twirls down. She strains against the weight. They looked a more manageable size in the sky. Ugh! These stupid sleeves! They always make her sleeves too small to properly flex her arms! She gets it with the dresses. Okay, cool, whatever, they want her to look small and dainty in a dress, understandable. However, this is meant to be a military uniform. Contempt hidden behind a blank face, she does her best to slow the debris enough to allow the citizens to get away. Once they do, she settles the rubble down, gently as to not remind everyone of its lethal weight. The panic dies down some, the immediate danger dealt with. Cloud lowers her arms, straightens her sleeves, and shoots a glare back up to where the sky meets the rooftops.

All that and the march never even slowed. It's somehow both disturbing and expected: the parade never faltered. Performative as ever, Cloud supposes. A few soldiers are side-eyeing each other and—uh oh—someone separates to finally go check on the fort. 

In all fairness, Red Wood did warn her to be careful today. Perhaps she should thank him for his decency. At least someone was looking out for her. Minimally. Gods, why even have so many people guarding her if they're not aware of their surroundings? Someone on horseback trots against the flow of the march to meet her. "Princess," the soldier prompts, pausing to salute, "the queen has requested that you ride up to meet her." Oh damn, she's taking this seriously. Someone near her must've gone to scout at the first blast.

"Do you think you could get someone to watch the sky, then?" She requests. "Some debris fell and nearly took out the crowd."

"Of course, Your Highness," he agrees. Cloud nods before jerking the reins and riding on, a few guards surrounding her as she does. She smiles at the people, hoping to somewhat ease panic and confusion as to why she'd be leaving her place. It takes a few minutes, but she eventually pulls up beside her mother, just behind her. The typical hot flash of panic spreads through Cloud's chest when she clears her throat to announce her presence. It doesn't go away as quickly as it usually does, though, taking its sweet time as it leaks from her lungs to her neck and arms. She tugs at her collar.

"What is going on?" She asks quietly. "Is this to do with the smoke?" Glancing at it, it's more distant, obviously, but just as foreboding. It completely intrudes on the patriotic facade of the occasion. 

"It is. I've received word that some violent miscreants have attacked the citadel. We do not yet know their goal," she explains. Cloud doesn't respond, unable to think of anything useful to say. Come to think of it, Cloud doesn't know the idea behind this particular attack either. Trinity is a large city, sure, but she can't think of any special reason it should be the first strike—nothing practical, anyway. Is there some historical significance? Something symbolic, perhaps? She turns her gaze forward, to the city hall building at the end of the street. Hold on. She squints. Is that just the glare of the sun on the windows? No, it's only on the first floor.

"The windows are orange," she states. From here, most might just glance and assume the color to be from the curtains, but Cloud knows curtains in government buildings are always red. It's not dark out, so there's no need for candles that would radiate that color. Nor is it cold with a need to light a fireplace. Blaze's eyes flit to Cloud before focusing further down the street at the building. "Nobody should be in there, right? They take the day off after greeting us, do they not?"

"They do," Blaze confirms in a dark tone. They're getting close now, and if the citadel situation is anything to go by-

Like dead grass doused in alcohol, the building erupts in flames. It's as if a piece of the sun has fallen down onto Terra. That must be magic. It's lamp oil, consumed immediately by the flame. People shriek, scattering now that they realize it isn't just the citadel. Blaze commands something, but all the windows shatter at the same time, even shriller than the yelling. Blaze moves her horse so that her own body stands between Cloud and the fire. Regardless, the heat hits Cloud in a wave as she stares, motionless, eyes wide, and mouth slightly agape. But not at the building.

When she does look back at City Hall though, it’s to see someone emerge from the front door, strolling leisurely out of the burning building like a worker who just clocked out after getting a raise. 

Sake Gushiken grins as he descends the stairs, declaration of war in one hand and his drawn blade in the other. Gone is the queensman coat, left to singe in his past. Replacing it is a deep, midnight purple. It's amazing what a little black powder, ale, and magic can do, really. The heat of the hellfire around him roars, but it's a callback he'd truly wished to include today. What's the saying? Fight fire with fire? If there's anything that represents the Spark family, it's inferno. 

He uses his magic, glowing cool blue around his hand, to propel the rolled-up paper toward the queen and her procession. The queen halts it just before it hits her, yellow magic flickering around it. Gushiken's easy grin doesn't falter, audible in his voice as he announces, "That would be my resignation!" 

And oh, if looks could burn, Gushiken would be just as charred as the building behind him. The queen's voice carries, omnipresent, "What is the meaning of this?" Gushiken merely gestures to the paper in Blaze's hand. Blaze snaps the paper straight to read it; Cloud flinches ever slightly at the sudden jerk of her hands. From beside her, Cloud can read only a few lines before Blaze decrees, "Treason! Seize him!" Something complicated flutters through Cloud's chest as the soldiers charge immediately, thoughtlessly despite only coming out today thinking they just needed to march and look pretty. He's a sitting duck. Surely Gushiken planned for this-

A different, darker shade of blue surrounds Sake before he's torn from the ground like a ragdoll. Nicolas greets him when Sake reaches the rooftops, a few others awaiting him, as well. "Nothing burnt?"

"Not yet," Sake promises, "let's lead them away from the citizens." 

"Got it," Nicolas agrees, spinning Sake and himself to switch places. Aiming some warning shots, he draws his bow. 

Wooden and steel rainfall descends from the sky at the charging soldiers. It looks like Gushiken's got a lot of friends up there. The last of the parade goers disappear into any building that lets them in. Blaze raises her hand, a golden sphere surrounding herself and her daughter. An arrow or two dissolve upon contact. "Of all places," she seethes to herself. Her fiery eyes burn into Cloud's. "You need to get out of here and tell your father."

"Father?" Cloud sputters. "Why would-" 

"-Do not question me!" She retorts. Cloud's body sears. She jolts, a gasp escaping her throat as she curls forward in pain. "Just do it, you stubborn brat!" 

"I will, I'm sorry," she wheezes, supporting herself on the steed’s neck. The golden shield falls, and the sound of her mother's horse galloping away joins the cacophony. Cloud steals some air in deep breaths as the burning dissipates. 

Oh. Oh, she understands now. Her mother can burn her without touching her at will now. Cloud swings her leg over the saddle and slides off the horse. Her boots tap upon the concrete. Her breathing evens. Her eyes focus on the flames before her.

Cloud smiles. A relieved chuckle passes her lips, and soon enough she's laughing, cackling as she leans against her horse. She remembers! She knows why Trinity is significant. This is where Blaze lost twenty-something years ago! Trinity was her humiliation before the propaganda would claim otherwise. But, of course, people older than her reign still remember. This was Sake spitting at her feet. She's going to lose Trinity again! She's not all powerful! She can lose! She's only human, a person like the rest of them. Cloud doesn't know what emotions are spilling out of her, only able to identify relief among them, but it's certainly more than that. As she howls in hysterics, tears prickling her eyes, she remembers her mother is not invincible. Blaze isn't invulnerable. She can lose.

And the revolution can win.