Guard Captain Miles Emerson strode down the hallways of the Apocrypha Clinic, a sour frown upon his face. He didn’t want to be here, although he had to be; he didn’t want to deal with the problem that had arisen. It was disgraceful. For a man of his guard to be messing around with dancers? Disgraceful. But that wasn’t what bothered him.

No. What bothered him was not that the guard was beaten to a pulp, but rather who did it.

“Room number two-sixteen,” he sighed as he entered.

There in the room, the guardsman lay on the bed, his leg and arm elevated, each in a cast.

“Captain! I—” he began.

“Shut up,” Emerson cut him off. “Don’t try and hide it from me. Your two buddies ratted you out pretty thoroughly. You’ll be turning in your sword and your insignia. You’re more than fired.”

“But—”

“There’s no arguing here,” Emerson cut him off once more. “Now. Tell me what happened. There’s something I need to know. Who did this to you?”

“Some kid!” the guardsman coughed. “He was weird, too! I hit him once, got a really good shot in, too! But...”

“Talk to me,” Emerson said, lighting a cigarette. “What happened?”

“It was so weird! I gave him a big bruise on his face, but it just...disappeared—it was like his body healed itself instantly, I—!”

“That’s all I need to know.” Emerson puffed his cigarette. “Looks like just deserts for you, if I do say so myself.”

This is bad, he thought as he walked out of the room. He could feel sweat permeate, causing his leather armor to stick to his brown skin.

But there was a particular reason why this was worse than bad.

He sighed. “Guess I gotta give Pal Burns a visit...”

Evening light splashed hues of gold through the windows of the clinic hallway, casting shadows upon the wall for each passerby. Emerson took another puff of his cigarette, his mind swirling.

Pal, he thought, have you told them about who you are? Your grandsons, do they know?

“Philos...Uri...” he spoke under his breath. “Do they know what they are? Do they know the power that lies in their bloodline?” He exhaled deeply. “What a bother...”