Sunday 12 December 2010

Scribblers: Ghostwritten

Hooray, first Scribblers collaboration! Structured and partly written by Iceduck, mostly written by me. Also written so that Iceduck will actually bother to finish Kyle, hopefully, and by the way, the cottage is his idea.

But, most importantly, written for a certain someone's birthday. Enjoy!



Scribblers: Ghostwritten

Issue the First.

Scene the First . A big ugly building, looking like it was designed and built by someone who had a really romanticised idea of 'old architecture' and had seen a picture of Gormenghast but only had experience with office buildings, on the edge of Dinas. It has its own observatory as well. And it's on a slight hill that overlooks a forest. We're inside it, though.


The room looks like a lab adapted to observe just one thing; it's circular, with most of the room taken up by seats behind reinforced glass surrounding a central table, on which an axe is lying. Cameras and sensors are monitoring it, the data feeds displayed on a big bank of monitors against the back wall. MANY MEN, all wearing the same antiquated frock coats, are leaning eagerly against the glass and steaming it up. They each have a different national flag on one sleeve, and a fancy sigil with the letters S.C.E.P.T.R.E. emblazoned across the other..

GERMAN FLAGGED MAN
At last, at last! Ze hour is so close!

AUSTRALIAN FLAGGED MAN
What are the readings?

By the monitors a man wearing a lab coat over his frock coat and a Russian flag is busy scribbling on a clipboard. He looks up, nervously.

RUSSIAN FLAGGED SCIENTIST
Good, good. Um. Up two chundred percent, ve still predict rise, yes? Um -

AUSTRALIAN-FLAGGED MAN (muttered to himself)
Two hundred percent? Two hundred. Why, with an axe like that I could - dare I say it - rule the world...

GERMAN-FLAGGED MAN
Vhat vas zat?

AUSTRALIAN-FLAGGED "DUDE"
Nothing, sir.

GERMAN-FLAGGED MAN
Ah, ve are so close, Bruce! So close! Our predecessors vaited centuries for zis day! Vun thousand years, and here ve are! Ve may even miss breakfast! Somevun call Jurgen, tell him to postpone ze hot meals...

RUSSIAN-FLAGGED SCIENTIST
Oy. Sirs? If I may...?

BRUCE
What d'you think it'll do? When it activates?

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Produce power ze like of vhich ve haff never seen before!

BRUCE (muttered to himself)
Power... yes, that's the thing...

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Bruce? Are you speaking?

BRUCE
No, no... Just a cough...

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Vell, get it seen to, Bruce, ve don't vant your germs. Do you vant his germs, Sergei?

RUSSIAN SCIENTIST CALLED SERGEI
Er... nyet. Er... maybe ve chave little problem?

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Nonsense! Ten seconds! Everyvun, let's count down! Ten!

SERGEI
Er...

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Nine!

BRUCE
Maybe a bomb...

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Eight!

BRUCE
Or mind control, mass mind control...

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Seven! Join in, Bruce, six!

BRUCE
Six.

SERGEI
Oy.

GERMAN LEADER FELLOW
Five! Four! Three! Two! Vun! And - !

And the axe -

- does nothing at all. SERGEI sighs quietly and makes a sad note on his clipboard. The others stare at the axe for a few moments silently.

ENGLISH-FLAGGED FELLOW
Perhaps... it was forged in an afternoon?

SERGEI
Nyet. All poems are very specific - it vas forged in morning. But -

BRUCE (muttered)
My beautiful dreams...

GERMAN LEADER TYPE
But... but vhat happened, Sergei? Vhy has it not activated?

SERGEI
I tried to tell you, Sér. There is confusion with proper calendar.

GERMAN LEADER TYPE
Vhat?

SERGEI
Vell, different calendar systems exist. Vhen axe vas created most of vorld vas on Julian calendar, but then svitched to Gregorian calendar, because Julian vas eleven minutes too long. Islamic calendar is based on moon, and Japanese -

GERMAN LEADER TYPE
Yes, yes Sergei, I am getting ze fact of ze inefficient system. Scheiser... Very vell. Tell me your terrible news, zhat I may hear it and be disappointed.

SERGEI
Vell, ve chave narrowed it down to about six dates, Sér. Um... today vas one, and then Friday, December 15th, July 26th in two years...

BRUCE
And the other two?

SERGEI
Er... last Tuesday. Or... er... 1683.

There is a pause.

SERGEI (fakely brightly)
But ve are confident it vas neither of those!

There is another pause, and then GERMAN LEADER MAN spins on his heel and marches to the door, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and fanning himself with the other. BRUCE gives the axe one last look and hurriedly follows.

GERMAN LEADER MAN
Ach. Zis vhould not haff happened in Germany. Very vell, very vell, Friday it is, ve can only hope. Jurgen? Send down ze hot meals. Ve vill eat now.

BRUCE
The world will just have to wait a few more days for the Fourth Reich, eh?

GERMAN LEADER MAN (glaring)
You know, Bruce, I know you mean as joke, but some days you can be very hurtful.

Suddenly, the door bursts open just before they reach it and a GRUNT comes running in, carrying a print-out and looking frantic. He spies the GERMAN LEADER TYPE and runs up to him, and then stops dead to execute the longest and most insane secret handshake in the world. There is a pause as they get on with it.

GRUNT
Herr Klausner! We -

GERMAN LEADER CALLED HERR KLAUSNER
Hang on, hang on, I haven't qvite finished mit ze fiddly bit mit ze fingers...

GRUNT
Oh.

There is another pause, as HERR KLAUSNER and the GRUNT finish the fiddly bit mit the fingers. BRUCE looks at the axe, and drools a bit.

HERR KLAUSNER
Very vell, very vell. Vhat is it you vant, young grunt?

GRUNT
Herr Klausner! We have finished testing Dr Baryshnikov's border sensor -

HERR KLAUSNER
And you come to me? Ach. In Germany ve understand correct chains of command...

GRUNT
It picked something up, sir! Crossing the border! At five thousand feet!

Suddenly, everyone in the room is paying attention, staring at the GRUNT in horror.

HERR KLAUSNER
Mein gott! Not -?

GRUNT
It's a cottage!

He holds up the print out, upon which we can clearly see a flying cottage. No, I don't get it, either. The men in the room do, though - suddenly they are all gasping and throwing their hands about and reeling. BRUCE grabs the picture and examines it for a moment.

HERR KLAUSNER
Tell me, Bruce, I cannot bear to look...

BRUCE
The plaque over the door?

HERR KLAUSNER
Ze plaque over ze door.

BRUCE
'Home is where the happy memories grow.' It's her, sir.

HERR KLAUSNER
Nein!

ENGLISH-FLAGGED FELLOW
We're doomed! Another venture, doomed to failure! Woe!

BRUCE
Or... perhaps not.

ENGLISH-FLAGGED FELLOW
Of course we are! She will definitely steal our axe, the cow!

BRUCE (wearily)
George, shut up, there's a jolly good fellow. Herr Klausner? I may have a solution.

HERR KLAUSNER
Indeedy? Against her?

BRUCE
Yes. I think... I assume you've heard of the Scribblers?

HERR KLAUSNER
Heard, of course, ze Retcon man said we must avoid zem.

GEORGE
Scribblers? But they wouldn't help us! Aren't they heroes?

SERGEI
But vhy vould heroes not help us? Ve are research organisation, not criminals.

There is an awkward pause.

HERR KLAUSNER
Oh, vell done George! Yes! Vhat jokes you make, very good!

GEORGE (weakly)
Sometimes I even make myself laugh.

BRUCE (pointedly)
Except, of course, Sergei is right. We are a research organisation, aren't we? And she's coming to steal our research materials. Yes? So we just tell the Scribblers that...

GEORGE
Ohhh...

HERR KLAUSNER
Yes, yes vell done Bruce! You haff found a plan!

BRUCE
Yes. I suggest we go and make a phone call, sir.

They slip out into the hall, and BRUCE waits until the door is closed.

BRUCE
And we still have the robots.

HERR KLAUSNER
Ah! Yes...

Scene the Next. In da Pit, because even when I ghost write I apparently have to include one of these at the start of a script somewhere. It is morning. There are banners up saying 'Happy Brithday, Amity!' The Scribblers plus PROFESSOR KAYLEIGH are playing a drinking game. This is probably because of the birthday. They don't normally do that in the morning.

FINESSE
My turn. Never have I ever… been tied up or otherwise incarcerated by a supervillain.

CHRONAL
Ooh, you harpy! Every time!

AMITY
And that's still true? How do you do it?

FINESSE
Skills.

WRAITH
Skillz to pay the billz.

SHIFT
I can't think of a bill that would actually pay.

LYRIC (smirking)
I can.

AMITY
Yes, and I must say we're all marvelling at your excellent restraint and decorum in not sharing it.

They all drink, except FINESSE, and refill their glasses.

CHRONAL
Kayleigh's turn!

KAYLEIGH
O na. Um… never have I ever… been on the permanent roster of a superteam.

CHRONAL
Ooh, you harpy! Every time!

KAYLEIGH
Well? I couldn't think of one!

They drink, except KAYLEIGH.

AMITY
My turn! Um… Okay. I have never had a supervillain specifically request my presence for a fight.

SHIFT
Ooh, good one.

SHIFT, FINESSE, LYRIC, WRAITH and KAYLEIGH all drink.

KAYLEIGH
Who was yours?

FINESSE
Er... Dagger Man, wasn't it?

WRAITH
Lame.

SHIFT
Didn't we rename him Swiss Army Man?

WRAITH
Guy even had a garlic crusher arm. Sad times, son. Sad times.

LYRIC
D'you know, I think you'd have to be some kind of moron to be actually in danger from Dagger Man.

CHRONAL (sadly)
I got stabbed by Dagger Man.

FINESSE
Yes, but when he was merely painfully boring rather than a total loser, it's fine.

AMITY (to Kayleigh)
Who was yours?

KAYLEIGH
Allergy Lad. Who I beat, oddly enough. Turned out he was allergic to pollen.

(beat)

And being punched.

(beat)

Emo.

LYRIC
Never have I ever had my powers go out of control.

CHRONAL
Ooh, you harpy! Every time!

SHIFT
Ooh, I hate that one! It brings back distressing memories of The Time.

CHRONAL
Tell me about it. Although in my case there's no definite article.

AMITY
At least you only affected yourselves with yours, though. I turned three teachers bipolar and made a builder catatonic before I managed to sort myself out.

LYRIC
A builder?

AMITY (sulkily)
He wolf-whistled at me.

WRAITH
Epic fail.

CHRONIC (severely)
Then I hope you didn't wake him up again.

AMITY
Well, I did, of course. And the teachers. A few months later, when I worked out how.

FINESSE
Then at least you managed to undo the damage. Trust me, Shift's out of control powers did not only affect her.

SHIFT
You're just saying that because you still have the scars.

FINESSE
I think you'll find I'm saying that because I got the scars in the first place.

SHIFT
And that's what friends are for.

FINESSE
I'm relatively certain it's not.

KAYLEIGH
Alright, plantos, everyone drink.

CHRONAL, SHIFT, AMITY, WRAITH and KAYLEIGH all drink. It finishes the bottle. LYRIC mutters something and the bottle refills instantly, because when people are drunk they care less about such concepts as economies, but he did recycle the bottle, look, because he's a hero.

WRAITH
Having Lyric's powers on the team wins.

LYRIC
I'm going to carefully edit that sentence in my memory so that you actually just said 'Having Lyric on the team wins.'

WRAITH
Why? I didn't mean that. Ha ha!

LYRIC
Your Mam didn't mean it.

AMITY
Sorry, was that the Swansea way of saying 'You were an accident?'

CHRONAL
Nah. In Swansea, everyone's an accident.

SHIFT
Wraith's turn!

WRAITH
Mans. Never have I ever needed an entire team of superheroes to force me to costume.

AMITY
Well, it wasn't an entire -

FINESSE
Yes it was.

AMITY
But I didn't -

FINESSE
Drink. You're not getting out of this one.

AMITY
I just feel that the whole costume experience could be more enjoyable with the inclusion of games.

CHRONAL
Yes! I agree!

AMITY
Splendid! It's so important!

The dulcit tones of Help! by the Beatles emanates from the Public Report phone. No one moves. Some tumbleweed inexplicably rolls past.

KAYLEIGH
Oops, sorry. That's one of mine.

She collects her tumbleweed.

FINESSE
Answer the phone, someone who isn't me.

AMITY
I'm relatively certain that counts as an abuse of power, you know.

FINESSE
It's a perk.

KAYLEIGH
I'm a guest, I shouldn't!

AMITY
It's my birthday, I shouldn't!

CHRONAL
I'm lazy, I shouldn't!

LYRIC (getting to his feet.)
It's fine. It's clearly going to end up being me again, so I'll just go now.

SHIFT
Well, that's saved us a socially unpleasant scene.

AMITY
Yes, that could have become quite heated.

CHRONAL
Things said that shouldn't have been, the break down of our inter-personal relationships…

WRAITH
Lyric fancies Shift when she's animals.

(beat)

It slipped out anyway.

LYRIC (returning)
Said the parson to the bishop. It's some organisation or other, say they need help with a super thief.

FINESSE
Tough. It's Amity's birthday. Tell them to call the Rejects.

AMITY
No! We'll do it. My birthday's not til Monday, anyway.

SHIFT
Oh, but I'm so comfy here...

CHRONAL
I'm so drunk. Let's play strip poker!

FINESSE
You know, there are days where I just don't think you should bother dressing in the morning.

KAYLEIGH
Don't say that in front of Lyric! He'll have an Idea!

WRAITH
What organisation, anyway?

LYRIC
Some pack of twats in a gentlemen's club, I think. It says S.C.E.P.T.R.E. Except on the one with an American flag, his badge says S.C.E.P.T.E.R.

WRAITH
Loses.

CHRONAL (disgustedly)
Oh, we're not helping a gentlemen's club, are we?

SHIFT
Do we have to morally?

AMITY
I think we do.

CHRONAL
Really, though? We wouldn't help the Klan, would we?

AMITY
Er... actually, depending on the problem, I think we would...

FINESSE
Ugh. Superheroism is not what the guidence councillors tell you.

LYRIC
Mine told me to be a milliner. No idea why.

SHIFT
Ours was excessively fond of recommending marine biology. Although it would admittedly have been a good option in my case.

CHRONAL
Mine said undertaker.

KAYLEIGH
It's the beard, you know.

WRAITH
Mine said nursery nurse.

There is a pause. They all stare at him.

WRAITH
I think he hated kids.

FINESSE
What super thief, anyway?

LYRIC
Some... woman. I don't know. They say she's some big threat.

CHRONAL (sarcastically)
Oh, a gentlemen's club against a woman. I see.

AMITY
Hmm. I wonder what they have that she wants to steal?

CHRONAL
Acknowledgement of her as an equal, I imagine.

WRAITH
Lol!

AMITY
Well, I want to find out, and it's my birthday.

WRAITH
Oooohh, no she didn't!

LYRIC
Oh, you... you woman, you...

FINESSE
Dammit! Fine. Sober us up, would you? I'll go and talk to them.

AMITY
Yay!

There is a pause as AMITY leans forward, concentrating, and then FINESSE sighs and sits up straight, rubbing her eyes for a moment before climbing to her feet.

FINESSE
Well, if nothing else... I've sobered without a hangover.

She moves purposefully to the vid screen in the corner, and AMITY begins work on the others, who one by one sober and stand up.

SHIFT
Yeah. I love sobering without a hangover. I think we can all agree it's the best way.

AMITY
It's easy! I just increase your vasopressin from the hypothalamus...

WRAITH
Vasopressin for the win, my son.

LYRIC
Huh... huh huh... vasopress in...

CHRONAL
I vasopressed in, once.

SHIFT
A pleasure to listen to you as always, gentlemen.

LYRIC
Yes, it is.

The vid-screen flickers to life, showing HERR KLAUSNER, BRUCE and SERGEI, and the Scribblers all pay attention. WRAITH automatically turns invisible.

FINESSE
Good morning. How can we help?

HERR KLAUSNER
Ah, Fraulein! Guten morgen. As I vas explaining to your associate, my name is Herr Klausner and I am ze president of S.C.E.P.T.R.E. Currently, ve haff something of a problem.

SHIFT
Is that really an acronym?

FINESSE
Shift...

HERR KLAUSNER
Of course, of course! But, uh... ve haff no time to elucidate. Ve vish to report a terrorist!

CHRONAL
Thief to terrorist in a minute. Her career's really taken off.

FINESSE
Chronal...

HERR KLAUSNER
Yes yes, she is also a thief. She has come to steal from us! But, ve haff reason to believe zat she vill cause some diversion - efficient, very efficient - and so ve report her. To you.

AMITY
What is it she wants to steal from you?

HERR KLAUSNER (uneasily)
Ah. Zat. Did ve not say? Aha. A ha ha.

BRUCE
Ahahaha.

CHRONAL
Aha.

SERGEI
Er... please? Ve are research organisation; ve study very old, very powerful artefacts. Currently, ve have vun.

SHIFT (brightening)
Really? What is it?

SERGEI
It is axe, very old axe. It has many legends. But, voman ve varn you about - she is collector. She has stolen from us before, and now she is back.

HERR KLAUSNER
Ve haff sent you her file, such as ve have on her. In Germany ve make better files, full of information... But I digress. She must be stopped! Vill you stop her?

FINESSE
Well, we'll investigate. But we do look into all aspects of reports like this, Herr Klausner, so you should be aware that we'll probably need to see your axe, to confirm it.

HERR KLAUSER (disgustedly)
Oh, scheiser. Really? Mit ze seeing and ze being in Head Qvarters and - ? Ah. I see it is so. Very vell. Ve shall expect you. Please be prompt in apprehending her, though, ze stress gives me a rash so strong...

The vid-screen cuts out on him, and FINESSE watches it, thoughtfully.

FINESSE
Full report, please.

SHIFT
The Russian scientist believed every single word he was saying, and is extremely nervous about the prospect of that axe being stolen.

CHRONAL blurs on the spot, a few pages suddenly appearing in his hands.

CHRONAL (disgustedly)
They faxed it, the tree-haters.

He blurs away.

WRAITH
What? No way! Who uses faxes anymore, the Victorians?

FINESSE (to Shift)
The others?

SHIFT
Both uptight. Very tense, on edge, but... no clear deception on any of it. Either they're hiding something, or they're just worked up about the threat as well.

LYRIC
I love that you can read body language.

WRAITH
It's Lyric's first language.

LYRIC (giving him a Look)
Yes, Wraith. Yes, it is. Can you tell what I'm saying now?

SHIFT
I can, and I'm shocked you even know such words.

KAYLEIGH
Lyric? Really?

SHIFT
Good point.

CHRONAL blurs back, and the vid screen is suddenly filled with an electronic file with a UN heading, a photograph beneath it in grainy low resolution of a woman with long hair in a costume that looks like a kimono. CHRONAL drops back into Realtime, and spins on a spinny chair.

CHRONAL
Scribblers, meet the Yūrei. Yūrei; Scribblers.

WRAITH
Whoa. Is that a kimono?

LYRIC
Is that a samurai sword?

CHRONAL
You're not wrong - both your dreams have come true. This is the only picture of her, and it's rubbish. Bet that's the fax, though.

LYRIC
That's as clear as shit, like.

WRAITH
Is she Japanese?

CHRONAL
Um, maybe. She first turned up in Japan, then four years later went global.

WRAITH
Like Pokémon.

CHRONAL
That was about a decade ago - the Yūrei is what the Japanese call her. No news on what she calls herself.

SHIFT (sagaciously)
"Me".

CHRONAL
SCEPTRE were right, though - she collects objects of power. Museums, gangsters, supervillains, Tories ... even governments. No-one's safe.

LYRIC
Black market?

CHRONAL
Strangely, no. Everything she takes stays taken, as it were. Of the items attributed to her, only three have ever turned up again elsewhere. And I'm dubious about those.

SHIFT
Such as?

CHRONAL
The Comity Diadem. Allegedly.

AMITY
What, the Tory one? That we've now got?

CHRONAL
The very same.

WRAITH
I wear it when you're out.

AMITY
What does her name mean?

WRAITH
It's a Japanese ghost.

They all look at him. WRAITH shrugs.

WRAITH
Japan's the president, bitches.

KAYLEIGH
A ghost and a Wraith, eh?

WRAITH
Mans.

FINESSE
Powers?

CHRONAL
Presumably, since she's broken into some astonishing places. Can you tell?

FINESSE
Not through a picture.

(Beat)

And not through that one.

LYRIC
Can't even tell if she's wearing a mask in that. It's about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

AMITY
So... she's spent ten years taking dangerous items of power away from potential villains?

CHRONAL (aggrieved)
Yes, that's what I thought! Do we have to stop her? I mean, she doesn't even definitely exist, and they're a gentlemen's club...

SHIFT (thoughtfully)
They also said she was a terrorist. Any evidence of that?

CHRONAL
No! And they're Tories!

FINESSE
We don't know that -

CHRONAL
We do! They're horrid, Finesse, can we ignore them?

FINESSE
It's Amity's birthday.

AMITY
Hooray! Yes it is! Um... I think that if she's taking these potentially villainous items away from villains we shouldn't really try to stop her. And, um, she hasn't tried to steal anything yet. It's morally dubious to try to apprehend her before the crime.

CHRONAL
Hooray!

FINESSE
Fair enough. Back to the drink, children.

SHIFT
Hooray!

They start back, but suddenly, the TARDIS sound emanates from the Police Comm-Link. Oh noes! Everyone stands still and looks at each other a bit. The tumbleweed rolls by again.

KAYLEIGH
Dammit, sorry...

She chases away after her tumbleweed. Still no one moves.

LYRIC
Jesus, guys, you pack of -

AMITY
Birthday!

KAYLEIGH
Guest!

CHRONAL
Lazy!

LYRIC
The only useful member of this team!

He goes to answer. FINESSE and SHIFT grin at each other.

SHIFT
Well, that's worked out. We didn't have any kind of defence.

FINESSE
I know, right?

WRAITH (Invisibly)
He didn't see me, right?

CHRONAL
Do we need to have our 'People don't forget you when you're invisible' conversation again?

LYRIC (calling suddenly)
Hey guys!

He spins around from the Comm-Link, sword out, looking astonishingly suave and about to leap into action. They all turn and look at him alertly. WRAITH fades back into view.

LYRIC
Killer robots downtown!

FINESSE (to Chronal)
Go.

CHRONAL
I'm gone.

He vanishes. FINESSE spins to the rest.

FINESSE
Trans-jet in three minutes, people, move!

AMITY
Hooray! Action! I can't fight robots, though.

FINESSE
We need you for crowd control. Go! Race Wraith!

AMITY
Yay!

WRAITH (unseen)
Hey, wait she can't see me!

SHIFT
But she can feel you, you wastrel.

WRAITH
Baps.

AMITY
Let's go!

She, WRAITH and LYRIC leave. KAYLEIGH reappears, her tumbleweed in her arms.

KAYLEIGH
Sorry, I don't know how they keep getting out - where did everyone go?

FINESSE
Robots.

KAYLEIGH
O na.

SHIFT
But, we haven't finished preparing for Amity's birthday. Could you stay?

KAYLEIGH
I was going to suggest just that, oddly enough. Call me if you need back up.

FINESSE
Will do.

SHIFT
You know, I was a robot once.

FINESSE
You have to stop being so mean about donkeys.

They leave, heading up to the Trans-jet, and KAYLEIGH moves to the window. Thirty seconds later, she grins and waves as the jet shoots away, and then turns and heads out to the Pit's garden. She puts her tumbleweed down, which rolls away into the house again, and spreads out her arms contentedly.

In the corner, the earth begins to move.


Scene the Next. In which the narrative voice takes a turn as the story is picked up by a different writer. Most irregular. What has happened to the magic of Scribblers?!?! Anyway, seven red mecha-samurai robots are slowly marching along the streets. LYRIC approaches on the other side, sword in hand.

LYRIC
Hell to the yes. I never get to swordfight.

A CHAV approaches the robots with a camera-phone -

- and the robot swings its sword! Mechanically! -

- and the chav is pushed over by a RACING CHEETAH!

The robot misses.

The chav falls and says "ow".

The cheetah reaches Lyric -

- and becomes SHIFT.


LYRIC
New rule - everyone stay away from the robots of death.

CHRONAL
That's a Doctor Who story.

CHRONAL, FINESSE, AMITY and WRAITH have turned up.

LYRIC
Why did we arrive out of order again?

CHRONAL
Secret plan. Or something. Stupid idea, anyway. Sorry, all.

FINESSE
Alright, guys.

Finesse narrows her eyes like a badass.

FINESSE
Let's fight robots!

Scene: LYRIC engaged in a swordfight with a ROBOT.

Scene: AMITY keeping a CROWD OF PEOPLE calm as they move away.

Scene: FINESSE slowing two ROBOTS down, one eye on CHRONAL, slowing down a third.

Scene: A ROBOT being attacked invisibly. Its head spins around.

Scene: An ELEPHANT trying to stamp on two ROBOTS, delicately avoiding lamp posts and post boxes.

Scene: LYRIC fighting a ROBOT wit' sword.


LYRIC
Flagging! Flagging!

AMITY turns up beside him.

LYRIC
Wow, oh! Yes, that's great - I'm brave, I'm bold, I'm brilliant.

He thrusts at the robot -

- and pierces its shell.


LYRIC
I am so cool.

AMITY
Gosh, you're so brave! Can I keep you like this?

LYRIC
Probably best not.

Scene: FINESSE and CHRONAL fighting SLOW ROBOTS.

FINESSE
This is so much fun!

CHRONAL
Yeah, why don't you use my powers more often?

FINESSE
I do. Mwahahaha.

CHRONAL
What? You - what? What for?

FINESSE
Oh, you know. Fighting goons. Waiting for rice to boil. Just normal superhero stuff.

Scene: A ROBOT thrusts out its arm -

- and grabs something invisible.


WRAITH
Mans! MANS!

An ELEPHANT arrives -

- crushing the robot -

- and becomes SHIFT.


SHIFT
What happened?

WRAITH
It suddenly saw me, like it just worked it out.

SHIFT
Okay, experiment time.

She looks across the street, and spots a lone ROBOT.

SHIFT
Make me invisible.

Shift becomes a GORILLA -

- and the gorilla vanishes.


WRAITH
She'll go apeshit.

The robot is pushed to the ground.

It stands up.

Turns around.

ROBOT POV: everything black, with RED SHAPES for the Scribblers, including a GORILLA SHAPE right ahead.

Normal POV - the robot approaching something invisible -

- extends its sword -

- and suddenly stops.

And is batted away by something invisible and massive.

A KOMODO DRAGON fades into view -

- which transforms into SHIFT.


SHIFT
They can track heat. Lizards fool them, though.

WRAITH
Invisible lizards.

SHIFT
Invisards.

Scene: LYRIC and AMITY face the stabbed, damaged ROBOT -

- and a steel covering slides over the wound.


LYRIC
Stabby stabby!

Lyric repeats his successful stab from earlier -

- but the robot blocks it.


LYRIC
I hate learning robots.

Amity holds up her hand.

LYRIC
But I'm surprisingly happy about it.

Scene: FINESSE and CHRONAL still fighting SLOW ROBOTS.

The robots stop!

Then start moving -

- now at normal speed!


CHRONAL
What? No!

FINESSE
They've got superspeed? That's unfair.

CHRONAL
Why aren't the others using it?

FINESSE
Lack of imagination, I reckon. They only bring out the big guns when they're crippled.

CHRONAL
Minimum necessary force samurai robots, eh? Lovely.

He slows them down further -

- the sweat dripping from his forehead.

Scene: WRAITH is standing on the far end of the street, in front of an enormous hole in the road.


WRAITH
Stupid robots can't cross my hole.

Two ROBOTS stand on the other side of the hole.

WRAITH
Okay. Uh. What do I do now?

A new GOLD ROBOT turns up - bulkier than the red ones.


WRAITH
Damn miniboss.

The gold robot looks at the hole.

It starts to walk across -

- as though floating in mid-air.


WRAITH (morosely)
He solved my maze.

Wraith walks calmly to the pavement.

The gold robot follows, still walking on thin air.

The red robots follow their leader.

Suddenly, the robots fall! Like Wile E. Coyote remembering gravity!

The street fades into view -

- revealing a big open builder's trench where the robots have fallen.


WRAITH
Yeah, that one was real.

Scene: AMITY approaches a ROBOT, fighting something invisible.

AMITY
Hello! How are you?

SHIFT (OOV)
It can see me now. It's learnt.

WRAITH (OOV - in the distance)
Then why am I still making you invisible?

SHIFT fades into view.

AMITY
So you're fighting as a person?

SHIFT
No - I'm doing this.

Shift becomes a RHINO -

- which batters the robot with its horn -

- which becomes a BAT -

- which flies above the robot -

- and becomes a COW -

- which lands on the robot -

- and becomes a BOA CONSTRICTOR -

- which starts to crush it.


AMITY
Loving it! Here, have some bravery.

The snake becomes a GORILLA -

- which gives a thumbs-up.


Scene: LYRIC now fighting TWO ROBOTS.


LYRIC
Yeah. Now that Amity's gone, you bring a mate along. I hate you.

Behind him, EIGHT FURTHER ROBOTS arrive, including one gold leader.

LYRIC
You're so dead.

He leaps in the air -

- sword held aloft -

- cliffhanger!


Scene: CHRONAL and FINESSE fighting NOW-REALLY-QUITE-FAST ROBOTS.

CHRONAL
Hate this. Hate this.

FINESSE
Cheer up.

HERR KLAUSNER turns up.

HERR KLAUSNER
Ve haff information on ze Geist. Ze Yūrei.

FINESSE
Yes, go.

HERR KLAUSNER
She's in a cottage in Dinas Voods.

FINESSE
Gingerbread?

CHRONAL
There's no cottage there.

HERR KLAUSNER
Zhere is now! Scheiser...

They're still totally fighting robots, by the way. Hope that's clear.

CHRONAL
Okay, but we need to keep fighting these robots. Who do we send to the woods?

WRAITH materialises.

WRAITH
I'll go.

FINESSE
Are you sure? I'd be able to do more than -

WRAITH
Lame robots can see me. I basically don't have any powers.

CHRONAL
Yeah, but that doesn't mean-

WRAITH
No, shut up, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say I'm still a hero without my powers. But I'm not - I'm just stupid. So I'm going.

FINESSE
Words later, boy. We're having them.

WRAITH
Yeah, yeah...

Scene the Next. In which the narrative voice switches back, and vows never to leave the computer open again because it only took three lines for SOMEONE to make Chronal into a spanner, and he well doesn't deserve it (hard stare). Anyway - a wood. It's really lovely and beautiful, isn't it? I love woods. This one is particularly great, too - it's got chestnut trees. Those are hard to find in Swansea.


Our view pans through the trees. Woodland creatures gambol playfully past; squirrels chase one another; birds forage through the undergrowth before flying back to the canopy; a small herd of deer leap joyfully over a brook; a badger emerges from ferns, looks grumpy and retreats. The view keeps panning, until it reaches the trunk of an ancient and beautiful oak, and stops.

TREE
Hey.

AMITY (on comm)
Ooh, hello! Do you know you're on picturephone?

TREE
Yeah.

AMITY (on comm)
It's just that I can't see you.

(beat)

Unless you've met treeple. Oh my god, have you met treeple?

TREE
Treeple? Tree people?

AMITY (on comm)
Yes!

TREE
No. That shit don't exist, fool.

AMITY (on comm)
Oh. Well, it was a long shot. Be visible, Wraith.

WRAITH('s voice)
Can't. I'm being sneaky, son. I think I've found it.

AMITY (on comm)
Really? You aren't sure?

WRAITH('s voice)
Just checking - it's not normal for cottages in woods to have been dropped into place and have signs over the door saying 'Home is where the happy memories grow', is it?

Our view switches to WRAITH's POV. In front of him an old English thatched cottage, complete with a weather vane, shutters and chimney, is sitting squatly on the bent and broken remains of some extremely squashed bracken, under a rough hole in the canopy. Some feet wearing red boots are sticking out from under one wall. As we watch, part of a branch falls from a tree above and bounces off the thatch.


AMITY (on comm)
Er... no. No it's not.

WRAITH('s voice)
Found it, then. Brb.

There is a pause in the newly-made clearing, and then two holes seem to appear at head-height in the wall of the cottage. They stay for a moment and then vanish. A second later, the door is quietly opened and closed again.

Opposite, the beautiful oak endevors to look sad.


TRERSON
But I am real.

Scene the Next: inside the cottage. I still don't get it. It's like a little old lady's cottage from the forties or something - china plates are on the walls with pictures of kittens, a log fire is burning merrily in the corner, a dresser with the Best China stands against one wall. There is a Singer sewing machine. There is a sideboard covered with a lace doily. There is a lace-making table. There are bobbins. There is a small assortment of house plants. There is a fully-stocked teatray. There are floral patterns in fetching shades of pink and brown everywhere.

There is also a big, comfy, winged armchair with a bank of aeroplane controls in front of the front window. And there are curious items everywhere. Three different suits of armour line one wall; a set of wands are on display with the Best China; the sideboard bears an open jewellery box with ten rings inside, and a cursed-looking necklace in front of it; an ancient map is open on the table; a quietly humming chessboard sits beside the winged armchair; a set of glowing green stones are neatly stacked in a cardboard box with two libel crystals and a clockwork Cave Of Kitch monkey ninja. There is an overlarge and extremely heavy-looking hammer on the floor beside a rack of swords, one of which is glowing blue, and another of which has a triforce pattern on the hilt. A pair of half-molten wax-and-metal wings are hanging over the door. There is a cauldron of rebirth, and a jar of light. There is a golden gun, and a mirror that looks a bit funny.

There is no one there.

Our view pans over all of the artefacts, and then settles on one suit of armour.


ARMOUR
Hey.

AMITY (on comm)
You're back! Unless... are you a large gentleman in armour who's kidnapped my friend?

ARMOUR
Wait, you can't tell?

AMITY (on comm)
Well, it's always worth a check...

WRAITH('s voice)
Sad times. So, hey, look at the shiz in here.

There is a pause.

AMITY (on comm)
Oh my god! It's so beautiful! And Finesse is going to be so jealous that you went instead of her.

WRAITH('s voice)
Everyone's jealous. That's why they say such mean things about me, but my mummy said I wasn't to listen.

AMITY (on comm)
That hammer! Try to pick it up!

WRAITH('s voice)
Fine. Brb.

There is another, longer pause. After a while there are very faint sounds of exertion.

WRAITH('s voice)
Gypsy hammer won't lift.

AMITY (on comm)
Oh my god! It's Mjolnir! It's Thor's hammer!

WRAITH('s voice)
Whoa, no way! That's legit.

AMITY (on comm)
That's so exciting! Ooh, ooh, what else is there?

WRAITH('s voice)
Chessboard?

AMITY (on comm)
Hmm. Don't play it.

WRAITH('s voice)
Was not a risk, if I'm honest.

AMITY (on comm)
Oh. Any sign of the Yūrei?

WRAITH('s voice)
No. Yet. Reckon the mirror will tell me if I'm the fairest in the land?

CHRONAL (on comm)
No mirror would tell you that. Ha ha!

WRAITH('s voice)
Bapsen Wledig.

SHIFT (on comm)
Maybe it'll suck out your soul.

FINESSE (on comm)
Can it do any of the above if you're invisible?

SHIFT (on comm)
Ah, an interesting practical experiment.

WRAITH('s voice)
I have no soul. Chronal said.

CHRONAL (on comm)
Who doesn't cry at Love, Actually?!?!

SHIFT (on comm)
Me, you saddo.

CHRONAL (on comm)
Silence, soulless filth! Ooh, robot, duck...

WRAITH('s voice)
I'm going to lo - argh!

Our view sweeps around to the mirror. It's almost unremarkable - it's full length but there's nothing fancy about the frame, just plain, smooth wood. The glass is slightly purply-bluey-green, however, and something about it seems odd. Mostly because, reflected back in it, is a fully-visible Wraith. From our perspective, no one is standing in front of it.

AMITY (on comm)
Wraith? Wraith, are you okay?!

WRAITH
Gypsy mirror can see me!

AMITY (on comm)
The mirror can see you?

WRAITH
I'm looking at me! But I'm invisible!

SHIFT (on comm)
Ah, the old reveals-what-is-hidden trick.

WRAITH
My nemesis is a mirror. Lame.

SHIFT (on comm)
Mine is a man who genuinely chose the name "Metal Man". Be more grateful.

WRAITH
Yeah...

His reflection steps closer as he steps up to examine the mirror, and look at the reflection of the room. To his left behind him, it turns out, a cloak is hanging on a coat hook on one wall, only the hook actually visible in the Real World; as WRAITH looks around a previously empty picture of a field shows a unicorn grazing, a bunch of Scarlet Pimpernel appears in a vase, and Lord Lucan looks up, alarmed, and flees the room. WRAITH grins, the view panning around, and looks to his right -

The YŪREI is standing behind him. She is indeed Japanese, and wearing a mask, and holding an extremely sharp samurai sword inches from his neck.

He spins around.

She's still there.


Scene the Next. Robots, still. And fighting, lots of fighting, with everyone looking beleaguered. HERR KLAUSNER is crouching under an abandoned lorry, watching the fight nervously and wringing his hands.

SHIFT
Not to worry you, but Lyric hasn't been talking on the comm for a while...

She turns into a shire horse and decapitates a robot with a back kick. A second rears up and she repeats the move, but her hoof glances off this time.

CHRONAL
I'm worried.

AMITY
Well, he's still alive...

CHRONAL
Excellent! I'm less worried.

FINESSE
But?

AMITY
Um, well, I made him really brave, but that means he won't feel panic if he's about to die...

FINESSE
So you can't tell?

AMITY
No.

CHRONAL
Now I'm worried again.

FINESSE
But why did you - ? Wait. Were you perving on him? Is this going to be you staring at his arms all over again?

AMITY
Yes, if I'm honest.

SHIFT
It's unusual, because we usually perv at Chronal.

They all glance at CHRONAL, sexy beast.

CHRONAL
Well, I am devillishly handsome.

SHIFT
So, I don't mean to worry you, but Lyric may be down and the robots are winning...

CHRONAL
Stop worrying me!

SHIFT
Ah, but it is unintentional.

CHRONAL
I appreciate that.

FINESSE (realising)
Oh, guys, I'm retarded.

CHRONAL
You are not! Lies!

FINESSE
No, seriously. Switch robots. Three, two, one -

They switch robots. Thrity seconds later, the street is strewn with broken robot pieces and the Scribblers stand victorious, FINESSE holding a robot faceplate and sighing. CHRONAL pats her on the shoulder as SHIFT turns back into a human and AMITY looks around for LYRIC.

FINESSE
They were so beautiful...

CHRONAL
I know.

(beat)

You aren't retarded.

SHIFT
We should keep that face and hang it up in the Pit.

FINESSE
That's not macabre, is it?

CHRONAL
It's not as long as we take it down every time Mecha Maid comes around.

AMITY
Guys! Lyric's fine.

FINESSE
Definitely?

AMITY
He's there.

They turn, and see LYRIC standing upon a large pile of slain robots, sword held aloft, one robot head still skewered upon it. It is noble and heroic. A small crowd of children has gathered around the base of his robo-heap, even, carrying flowers. Blue-tits fly around him, and the sun shines down.

CHRONAL
Why are there - ?

FINESSE
Pathetic Fallacy is in the crowd around that corner.

CHRONAL
Ah.

LYRIC
We have emerged victorious!

FINESSE
Amity, would you stop it?

AMITY
But he's so brave like this...

FINESSE
He's being a tit, Amity.

SHIFT
And the press are arriving. We need to go.

AMITY
But it's my birthday?

FINESSE
Good effort. No.

CHRONAL
Yeah, there are limits, you know.

AMITY (grumbling)
Fine...

There is a pause, and then LYRIC blinks and looks down at his pile of robots.

LYRIC
Jesus F. I did that?

AMITY
You did! You were so dashing and brave!

LYRIC
Oh well. Natch.

He leaps suavely down, executes a perfect three-point Prince of Persia landing and strides back to them.

LYRIC
Where's Wraith?

WRAITH('s voice)
Here.

They turn, and WRAITH is standing there with the YŪREI behind him, one hand on his shoulder and the sword blade across his throat. Instantly FINESSE tenses, squaring up; CHRONAL puts his hand on her arm; SHIFT steps towards her slightly, a light tiger-striped pattern of fur appearing across her skin; LYRIC flourishes his sword suavely; and AMITY frowns slightly, staring at WRAITH.

Behind them all HERR KLAUSNER gets out from under his lorry, his eyes fixed hungrily on the YŪREI.


FINESSE
Get the hell away from him.

LYRIC
Ow, boy. Alright or what?

WRAITH
Bitchin'.

AMITY
He's...

FINESSE
Now.

YŪREI
I hear you are looking for me, Scribblers?

AMITY (fast)
We don't have time for this.

FINESSE
Get away from him. I'll not say it again.

YŪREI
Stay away from me, Scribblers.

SHIFT
Finesse...

FINESSE
Rust.

Her voice echoes as she hijacks LYRIC's powers and suddenly, the entire length of the YŪREI's sword blade rusts over and shatters. WRAITH jumps forward and away as FINESSE moves past him, aiming for the YŪREI, who draws a second samurai sword lightning fast and leaps at her, bringing down the sword -

FINESSE
Shield!

There is a flash of white light as FINESSE catches the blade on her forearm, some sort of repulsor shielding appearing and disappearing at the point of contact, and both drop back warily.

LYRIC
What the hell was that?

SHIFT
A particle repulsor shield?

LYRIC
You know how particle repulsion works?!

CHRONAL (proudly)
She's a scientist now.

FINESSE
Attack.

They move. SHIFT morphs fully into a tiger and springs at YŪREI, who leaps acrobatically back and away from her and onto the roof of a car; LYRIC jumps up beside her and they commence swishy sword fight like something out of a kung fu film. AMITY steps forward but then turns, sharply, as suddenly a CROWD OF ONLOOKERS appear from around the corner, jabbering excitedly and wielding cameras and trampling each other -

AMITY
Finesse - I have to -

FINESSE
Dammit. Come on, we'll sort them. Chronal?

CHRONAL
Go, I can supervise this.

AMITY and FINESSE turn and run back towards the crowd, herding them back and away from the fight. Meanwhile the fight continues: SHIFT leaps up as a tiger just as the YŪREI ducks under LYRIC's kick and thrusts her sword at her, and SHIFT hastily transforms into a sparrow to avoid it. CHRONAL blurs up to her but, just as he's about to hit her, she disappears.

WRAITH
Whoa! She's invisighost!

CHRONAL
Can you make her -?

The sword flashes out as she reappears, and he only just dodges in time, LYRIC parrying the thrust -

¬YŪREI
Enough.

She raises one hand, and lo! There is a gauntlet upon it, and all who saw it were afearing. She holds it palm out towards them -

- and a bright white light suddenly flashes out, blinding them all for a moment. When they all stand up the YŪREI is gone.


HERR KLAUSNER
Scheiser.

WRAITH
Yeah.

They stand around, filled with adrenaline. Panting and angry.

CHRONAL (thoughtfully)
Herr Klausner?

HERR KLAUSNER
Ja?

CHRONAL
I think it's time we saw that axe.

Monday 25 October 2010

For you, Quoth! Happy birthday!

This would have been printed out, but unfortunately technology was not our friend, so here it is instead. Happy birthday, Quoth! Enjoy!

Scribblers
The Wedding

A bad dress rehearsal means a good first performance, so the superstition goes. In the interests, then, of a smooth actual wedding, I present to you this: the disaster.


The Scribblers are, of course, in the Pit, which is a hive of activity.

Lyric is busily creating additional bedrooms and living rooms, and generally making everything more suitable for the additional guests who are invited to the wedding of Chronal and Finesse.

Shift, in Woodpecker form, is punching holes in the walls to put nails in, and Wraith in his flying shoes is following her around hanging up bunting on the nails.

Finesse is supporting Chronal, who is holding the whole Pit in a time bubble, which is why no-one is stressed that it is 7.25 in the evening, and all the guests are due at 7.30.

Amity is generally spreading the already sizable amount of good will, while following Lyric around and making excitable suggestions.

Finesse - Lyric, don’t forget the high ceiling in the room by the garden. We don’t want a cranky Balloon Girl.

Lyric - Yeah, high ceiling get.

Amity - Oh my God! I forgot to say: Balloon Girl’s going out with The Sword Fish, so she RSVP’d for a plus one.

Lyric stops what he is doing and looks despairingly at the room at large.

Lyric - Seriously? You want me to create a room that’s suitable for a woman whose internal body is consistent with helium, and a man who lives in a pond?

Finesse - They’re a couple? Really? How does that..?

Amity - She wouldn’t say, she just murmured something about phallic naming and “benefits outweighing the negatives.” She was really firm about the room, though.

Everyone looks at Lyric.

Lyric - What? What, you want an innuendo? That’s already an innuendo. Jesus.

Amity giggles. Finesse looks scornful.

The clock ticks.

Chronal - Sorry.

Finesse - Now see what you’ve done.

She goes back to her preparations.

Elsewhere, Shift morphs back into human form.

Shift - So the Assembly’s really letting us all have a week off?

Wraith shrugs.

Shift - I mean, that’s good. But doesn’t it seem like a good chance for villains to make a move?

Amity - Finesse blackmailed Ret Con. They’ve promised that if anything really bad happens, they’ll un-happen it.

Shift - Oh. Um, couldn’t we just do that all the time?

Chronal - Mutters something about the fabric of time.

Shift - Oh. So...we’ve actually just got a week off from villainy?

Finesse - Well, yes, unless, you know, some kind of espionage takes place with too many seeds sewn for Ret Con to unpick, or they break their word, or...

Chronal - (Looking out of the window) Or they forget what they were supposed to be doing, and turn up to the wedding.

Finesse - Well, yes, but that would be... oh.

And now everyone can see the main staff of Ret Con, glad rags on, approaching the Pit without a care in the world.

Before they can receive the collective rage of the Scribblers, however, everything goes dark.

Wraith - Lame.

The voice of Discord, one of the Scribblers’ many nemeses, is heard not in their ears but in their minds.

Discord - Hello, Scribblers. You will, I am sure, have noticed that you cannot see. On further inspection you will discover that you are suffering from complete sensory deprivation. You cannot hear, you cannot touch, you cannot taste...

Chronal - And we cannot smell, yes, thank you, could we hurry it up? I’ve got a wedding to plan.

Discord - Fine.

Chronal - And also, could you get your information right? It’s not complete sensory deprivation. I can still feel the passage of time.

Lyric - Cranky much?

Chronal - Well, yes, I am actually. Normally I’m very happy to have my time occupied by super-villains with dastardly plans but a week off is a week off.

Lyric - OK.

Wraith - I, like, know this darkness.

Amity - Yeah, and I’m still picking you all up. Everyone’s registering faintly amused frustration, by the way.

Finesse - OK. So what have we learned, people?

Amity - Oooh! He can shut down our regular senses but not our super senses! Yes!

Pause.

Amity - Oh, that was obvious, wasn’t it?

Finesse - Well done, though. What else? Come on.

Chronal - He can’t open a telepathic channel without allowing us to use it too. Oh, and he’s a long way away or Finesse would have shut him down.

Finesse - Well done.

Discord - (Peevishly) I’m still here, you know.

Shift - We know.

Discord - Don’t you want to hear my plan?

Lyric - You know you don’t actually have to tell us, don’t you? You’re allowed to just get on with it.

Discord - Oh.

Amity - Er, he’s serious. No irony.

Lyric - Really? See, the idea is that you do everything you can to make sure we don’t win, and if you tell us your plan, we’ve got a better chance of stopping you.

Sinister pause.

Discord - I see. Well, in that case, you might as well know. I have planted a psychic bomb inside the heads of Finesse and Chronal. It will detonate, causing lifelong mental anguish, at the moment their relationship is consummated.

He does some telepathic maniacal laughter.

There is an awkward silence.

Amity - Um, are you a Catholic, Discord?

Discord - I am. I moved straight from the Convent school to my Nemesis training camp.

Finesse - I see. Well, they certainly trained you well. You, um, you’ve defeated us. The next time we have sex for the first time, that’s it. Scribblers is without a leader and a deputy. Well done you.

Chronal - Oh, yes. I’m filled with masculine frustration.

Discord - Oh. Right. Good. Um, you’re taking this quite well.

Chronal - Ah, well, that’s our superhero training, you see. We’re able to hide our deepest emotions.

Amity - Yes, they’re crying inside. Honestly.

Discord - Oh. Good. Well, I’m off then.

The lights return to normal.

Lyric - That was surprisingly uneventful.

Shift - Yeah, who wants to watch Finesse yell at Ret Con?

The Scribblers all tumble outside.

The end.

Friday 27 August 2010

Cymru - Chapter 54

AWEN

Her balance was perfect. She perched high above the ground, poised on the palms of her hands and the balls of her feet in an elongated crouch, her fingers resting flat down the side of the wooden beam to steady herself. Away to her left and slightly below her from this vantage point the curtains drifted on the breeze, the softly rustling movement of the cloth drawing her eye for a moment, predator-like, until her focus re-asserted and her concentration returned to her task. She ignored everything else. She didn't acknowledge the beginning of the gathering stiffness in her joints as she held position, the unyielding and uncomfortable press of the wood against her hands and feet; she paid no attention to the whisper of the breeze across her naked skin, sending a lock of hair sliding down her shoulder and away to dangle above the drop in front of her eyes. She breathed evenly, forbidding even the movement of her ribs from hindering her balance. And she waited, her mind given over to the equilibrium of the hunt -

Movement, below her and behind her, the friction of cloth on body. She remained immobile. The sound of another's breathing shifted from the undulation of sleeping to the shallower, quieter rasp of wakefullness, and the sound of movement came again, louder and longer this time, and she readied herself, waiting. There was a pause, and then a sigh, resigned, perhaps; and then the rustle of cloth being pushed away, a faint squeak of a quiet spring that made her quiver, changing the grip of her right hand, so nearly the one she -

A second squeak, deeper in tone and slightly louder than the first, and she moved. She leapt out into space, her right hand keeping hold of the wood and she twisted her body; there was a brief moment of freefall where nothing touched her but the wind and then the strain through her arm caught her, an ache that ran from hand to shoulder to side as her momentum pivoted her around and arced her beneath the beam. The prey - man - prey looked up, frozen mid-crawl, far too late to escape, and she let go in time to bring both arms into play as she pounced -

The impact was deceptively soft, but he stood no chance. The momentum of the strike knocked them both sideways, both twisting for the optimum position to land in; she held him close and let them roll, his weight moving on top of her as he fought to pull free, to hold her down, but she knocked one of his elbows out and pushed at the same time, spinning him round to rest on his back and slamming a forearm down over his throat to -

"I win!" Awen said brightly. "I'm bored, Sovereign."

Gwilym burst out laughing, one arm snaking around her waist and hugging her tightly. There was a pause, and then he managed to work the other free from between them, and it joined its partner.

"Did you just hunt me, you psycho?" he asked, richly amused. Awen grinned.

"Yes," she said, taking her forearm off his throat and resting it by his head instead. Her hair cheerfully fell forward, and got in the way. "It was fun. However, my official Union disclaimer is that it was a training exercise only and no actual harm or distress was in any way intended, and should not be inferred. Want to go again? Say yes! It'll be fun!"

"I really think you're mistaking how much fun you had for how much fun I had," Gwilym laughed, his pale eyes sparkling. "You're as crazy as ten bears, Awen."

"Ah, but ten fun bears," she said happily, sitting up. "You go out, count to ten and come back in, right?"

"And you'll be on top of the wardrobe this time?" Gwilym grinned, rising to his elbows. It was a good position; he was well-muscled across the shoulders, in Awen's view, possibly from all of the practice they'd once received on fishing boats. It had left its mark on him, certainly. He might not have had the muscular definition of a Rider, but the beginnings and the strength were definitely there. He was a nice... shape. "Am I going to regret returning your mental serenity?"

"Like nothing else," Awen assured him. "I'll accept if you want to leave. After you've gone out and come back in one more time."

"Before then?"

"I'd hunt you down and drag you back," Awen shrugged. "And I have underlings to help, you know, and they have to do as I tell them."

His hand rose, his fingers working into her hair at the base of her skull as he sat up, and Awen tried not to purr.

"You're massively unhinged," Gwilym said fondly, and kissed her. Awen sighed and melted into it, contentedly feeling the press of his body against hers, and she wished they could stay there forever -

The dread of what was coming soon flared up, and she pushed it forcefully aside. His lips slid from hers and she leaned her forehead against his and smiled.

"They're outside, you know," Gwilym said idly, his fingers caressing her scalp still. "Your Wing. If you want to see them."

"I suppose I should," Awen said, rolling her eyes. "Gods, underlings, eh? Maybe I can cut a corner and just ask Adara how the rest are."

"You can't, actually," Gwilym said. "Because, as masterful a plan as that is, it has one tiny little niggle; namely, it's reliance on Adara to be there. Which she's not."

"Oh, what?" Awen looked across at the door disgustedly. "Well, some Deputy she's turning out to be. Why the hell not?"

"She went to relieve the tension on her frazzled nerves by visiting Owain," Gwilym grinned. "In the way only a Rider can, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose it's fair," Awen sighed gloomily. "I don't know, it just seems very self-centred."

"I doubt Owain agrees," Gwilym said dryly. "Want the rest of them in here? We have the power. We can make it happen."

"Typical Sovereign," Awen grinned. "It's all about power with you people, see?"

"Ha!" Gwilym said darkly. "Power. I told my chief clerk to get a sense of humour. So far his progress has been to produce one line that, if viewed from a different angle, was just another disapproving suggestion."

"But he's really very good at disapproving suggestions," Awen shrugged. "It makes sense for that to be the source of his humour at first. You'll just have to be patient, Sovereign."

"Easy for you to say," Gwilym said morosely. "You don't have to run a City-state with him. You know the worst thing? I wouldn't mind if he'd just give me useful suggestions, you know? Things of vital import that I need answers to! Instead, he's all, 'Oh, this is how we short-change the people we lead' and 'Look sire, a completely disgusting cloak you have to wear'."

"That is a problem," Awen laughed. "What do you need answers to, then?"

"Revolutions!" Gwilym said, aggrieved. "What do I do if my people revolt and come to shred me?"

"Shave your beard off and join in," Awen said promptly. "Be charismatic enough to become leader of the resistance. Take joy in the looks on their faces as they discover naught but an empty Residence, and then if you play your cards right they'll put you back on the throne."

There was a pause.

"You have a twisted genius, Awen," Gwilym said, admiringly. "That would actually work, I feel! And that's my new policy in such an event. Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Awen said indulgently. "It's almost worth starting a revolution now, isn't it? On a slow day, you know, not much else to do."

"I shall order Watkins to incite the masses," Gwilym nodded. "And... um... send my Riders on holiday to Caerleuad. Well, it's an hour, isn't it?"

"Speaking of which," Awen said quietly. The nerves flooded back adruptly, gripping at her heart and throat, and she swallowed. "How much time is left, now?"

Technically, as she was sitting on his lap she was actually above him; but it didn't matter. Gwilym had the most amazing way of holding her until she felt safe. She relaxed into his arms, her eyes sliding closed, and she savoured the feeling of him breathing against her.

"Five and a half minutes," he said softly, his voice warm. "And I imagine not a moment more after the trick I pulled with Eifion."

"He'll be outside the door with a bucket of cold water ready and waiting," Awen agreed, and sighed. She didn't want it to end. It was stupid, but the total uncertainty as to what was going to happen next clawed at her more painfully than riding into battle - that, at least, was something she could partly decide, something she could do something about. But she had no idea what would happen next now. She'd thought she was going to die. Now it was a mere option.

Whereas being with Gwilym was... a reprieve, from everything. She couldn't hide from him. He made her honest. It was addictive.

"My sister threw a bucket of cold water over me once," Gwilym said conversationally. "Accidentally, like. I think she was aiming for my brother, and I walked in the way. Then she was angry with me for getting in the way."

"Took after your grandmother, I feel," Awen said without thinking about it. "Although without the psychosis."

Fortunately, he laughed rather than throwing her out for mentioning his murdered family in such tones, and then pushed her gently back down onto the bed, on her back.

"My grandmother wasn't psychotic," Gwilym laughed, kissing her forehead. "She was just evil. There's a difference. Want me to bring your Wing in?"

"Do you mind?" Awen asked nervously. "If you want to just -"

"Awen," Gwilym said, rolling his eyes. "Really. I love you. That Wing is part of that package."

He was ridiculously good, Awen thought as she watched him happily pull a pair of trousers back on and amble across to the door. Who embarked on a new relationship with nine extra people at once? Well; eight now, of course, but if Owain had grown old after three promotions and died in the songs as one of Cymru's most beloved Councillors Gwilym would clearly have happily counted him in as well. And it wasn't like they didn't all come with terrible emotional issues. And semi-frequent homicidal instability.

"Okay," Gwilym announced, pulling the door open. "Good news, you eight! You've all won a competition to come and see Awen in her natural habitat, although heads up, she's sort of in a hunty mood."

"Well, yes," Adara's voice said, preceding its owner through the door and confirming that she'd returned from Owain. Awen grinned and sat up. "You got off mildly with the drawing, you see."

And then she was in the room, and her eyes met Awen's, and the bantering comeback died between them in the emotion. Awen wasn't really aware of jumping off the bed towards her; she saw Adara's arms reaching out for her and the next thing she knew she was holding her so tightly it must have hurt, but Adara simply clung to her back, the leather of her uniform cold against Awen's skin. And gods it felt good to touch her again, to draw from that well of support. She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened and buried her face into Adara's shoulder, breathing in the smell of her hair -

"I missed you," Awen whispered, and felt the very slight tremor that suggested that maybe, just maybe, Adara of all people was trying not to cry as well. Other people were moving closer now, crowding in. "I'm - I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Adara said, her voice choked but smiling. "Really, I could not be better. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Awen grinned, and the hysteria bubbled up again as it had so many times in the last week, making her giggle. "Yeah, I'm good -"

And then she was laughing too hard to really talk, because Adara joined in and made it worse. Breathing abruptly became difficult for them both, and they broke apart slightly, still holding onto each other but now with an inch between them, at least. Awen fought the laugh away and leaned her forehead against Adara's, dizzily.

"I missed you," she said again, more strongly this time. "All of you."

"Well, then, don't do it again, you crazy," Adara said sternly, brushing Awen's hair back. "Next time, remember it's not your fault. I suspect it'll be Meurig next time, by the way."

"Hey!" Meurig squalked indignantly. "What? Why -?"

"No, she's right," Llŷr sighed despondently. "And then Caradog. As a Wing we're just a Rubbish Men Special."

"But it will definitely be Tanwen before you," Awen said encouragingly. "Cheer up, menfolk!"

"But why me next?" Meurig said plaintively as Caradog calmly pulled Awen bodily out of Adara's arms as though she weighed less than paper and crushed her to his chest, wordlessly. "I'm so charming and fun."

"No you're not," Tanwen said, rolling her eyes. "Only Eluned thinks that, because she's too nice to think otherwise."

"I'll have you know there are times he annoys me," Eluned said matter-of-factly. "So who's between Tanwen and Caradog?"

"Llio, definitely."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Really, I think Adara has to be pretty high. She's a psycho."

"Would you let that go, now?"

"No! He's right! Clearly Adara will be next -"

"Wait, before Meurig?"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No, definitely not."

"Are you okay?" Awen murmured softly to Caradog. She felt his sigh rumble through his enormous chest, and stroked his shoulder.

"I will be," he said quietly. Which meant normal volume. "It just - that scared me, Awen."

"I know," she said guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm." His grip tightened briefly, which in Caradog's arms was no joke. "I won't beg you never to do it again, Leader, because - you had to, I know, and it was the right thing to do. But... can't you warn us next time? Or something?"

"No," she said softly. "Because that would have made you accessories to it, and I wasn't taking you all with me. Sorry."

He rested his forehead against the top of her head and sighed again.

"I wish you weren't this good," he muttered. She didn't have chance to respond, though, because then Llŷr was there and pulling her away, and then Tanwen, and then Eluned and Meurig while Llio hopped from foot to foot impatiently and then Cei, and then finally they all broke apart, and Awen could see just how lost they were all feeling behind the smiles. The uncertainty was taking its toll on them, too, she thought. But she couldn't erase it. They were lost together.

The bedroom door clicked shut, and they all turned to see Gwilym striding back, smiling.

"Right!" he said merrily. "We have just shy of three minutes, and then Councillor Rhydian - who is patiently waiting outside, by the way - is moving in. Good news! No Eifion!"

"Hooray!" Llio said brightly. "I brought the make up, we'll need to touch you up -"

"You heard him say three minutes?" Awen said incredulously; but Adara was already pushing her back towards the bed, officially Taking Over as only Adara could.

"Just shy of," she said briskly. "So get going, Llio. Awen, sit, don't argue. Who brought clothes?"

"Everyone," Awen said flippantly. "I can tell because they aren't naked."

"Oh look, it's A Laugh A Line With Awen," Adara sniffed. "Llŷr, sort her clothes out. Sovereign, are there such mundane things as combs in this inordinately large and fancy room, or have you only been given ornamentation?"

"And hankies," Gwilym told her solemnly, ambling away to a drawer. "So many hankies. But I think I saw - oh, no, just socks. Hang on..."

There was a slight pause, while Llio appeared like magic before Awen's eyes and very carefully started examining her left cheekbone where Rhydian had hit her in the cells, while Cei serenely started laying out the brushes and pots. Eluned climbed onto the bed behind her and happily started detangling her hair.

"Ooh, not too bad," Llio said cheerfully, selecting the softest brush. "It's already mostly faded, and we can work with it to highlight your cheekbones. You'll look slightly more exotic than normal, probably, but that's fine."

"This bedroom is a big inefficient," Adara's voice proclaimed across the room.

"Tell me about it," Gwilym said, aggrieved. "Hang on, what's this one?"

"Right, keep still!" Llio chirped, and the brush whispered softly across the bruised cheekbone, avoiding hurting rather ably. "Meurig, is there any blue or green in there?"

"Blue or green?" Awen repeated. "I thought you said exotic, not reptilian."

"The tiniest amount on the other side to act as a low-light," Llio shrugged. "It's artistic."

"What about her eyes?" Caradog asked, peering at Awen's face. She tried not to squirm. "They're smudged. Do we have time to start again?"

"Nope," Llio said. She took the pot of green pigment from Meurig and very carefully lowered the brush so minutely to the surface of the powder that Awen could have sworn she only picked up three grains before sweeping it onto the other cheekbone, satisfied. "We'll smudge it more and make it smokey, it's fine."

"Combs! Yes!"

"A victory for proper bedroom planning! Eluned, catch."

"Adara got to go and play with Owain," Tanwen said, sitting at Awen's feet. "Can we?"

"Maybe later, if you're good," Awen said mildly. "But not you, Caradog. You have to go last."

"Hey!" Caradog exclaimed indignantly. "Why? What did I do?"

"Caradog," Awen said, pained. "Other people will want their turn, boy. You won't leave anything for anyone else to enjoy. You have to go last."

"That is fair," Llŷr said reasonably, sitting next to Tanwen on the floor with a pile of folded clothes on his lap. He'd gone for something quick, Awen noted, so it wasn't a uniform; instead he held what looked like a pair of blue and green checked linen trousers and a woollen top of some kind, things that she could easily pull on in - she glanced at the clock - a minute. "Also, you rush things."

"Shut up," Caradog said good-naturedly. Llio changed brushes and started on Awen's eyelids, helped by Cei. "I'm just naturally enthusiastic, you moron. Awen said."

"Did I?" Awen said. "There's diplomatic."

"Almost as diplomatic as sitting naked on the pointlessly lavish four-poster bed of a Sovereign," Adara said silkily, helping Eluned with the combs. "And he just told me about you pouncing on him, Awen. I'm extremely disappointed and unsurprised."

"I was bored," Awen grinned. "And he said he'd let me do it again."

"You'll find I did not," Gwilym declared. "But I accept that it's a risk. It's fine, you know, I'm really good at dressing."

"No!" Adara said. "It needs to be done, now! Keep going, Caradog!"

"Guys," Awen giggled. "Stop accosting the nice Sovereign."

"You'd better leave, then," Cei remarked, and he and Llio both sat back. "I think they're even."

"So do I!" Llio said happily. "What next?"

"Clothes," Adara announced. "Argh! Twenty seconds! Cease your banters and move, everyone!"

"Good grief, she's efficient," Gwilym murmured as suddenly Awen found clothes appearing on her body in a flurry of limbs and haste. "Please never give Watkins any pointers. I just couldn't handle it."

"You just point and shout," Adara advised him, as finally everyone stopped decorating her and stepped back. "And call people adjectives. It always seems to work for me."

"It's the adjectives," Awen grinned. "It confuses people into obedience. That, and she once removed a man's head with her bare hands."

"You did what?" Gwilym said, incredulously, and Adara threw her hands up.

"Can we please stop saying that?" she said, exasperated -

Someone knocked at the door, a knock Awen knew well, and she flinched before she could stop herself, the dread and the sick feeling of nausea rising up again. The Wing fell quiet, turning to look at it alertly, and Awen smiled. They'd all fallen into defensive poses, she noted. Caradog had even moved in front of her.

"Stand down, would you?" she said wryly, ignoring her heart hammering at her ribcage. "Look at yourselves, honestly."

"I don't know," Gwilym said doubtfully, striding over to the door as they all moved abashedly back. "It could always be Mental Uncle Dara, you see - Councillor! That's alright, then."

"That's the warmest welcome I've had into someone's bedroom for years," Rhydian said easily, marching on in. Alone, Awen noted, her mind suddenly on overtime to absorb the details. No one else with him, and a file in one hand with the big 'Classified' stamp on the front she knew so well, and his stride and smile easy and free while, of course, giving nothing away...

"My mother raised me to be polite-like," Gwilym grinned, closing the door. He was, Awen realised, fully dressed including torque once again. Caradog was good. "It's why I keep thanking Awen for saving my life every time she does it, even though she therefore suspects I may be a bit simple."

"Just half Erinnish," Awen shrugged, which mercifully Gwilym laughed at. She would have no idea if it had been a good joke or not until she mentally reviewed the conversation later - right now, she was far too nervous to tell. Rhydian grinned, and actually Saluted her.

"You're looking well!" he told her merrily as Awen returned the Salute cautiously. "Curiously so. And on the subject of which, Sovereign, I understand you halted Councillor Eifion before the end of his time?"

They locked eyes, both men managing to exude surprised innocence except for the unwavering gaze.

"Not at all, Councillor," Gwilym said, his tone the very essence of someone sad to learn they may have been misinterpretted. "You told me to count out five minutes, and told me to start."

"Did I?" Rhydian asked, vaguely astonished, apparently. "What did I say?"

"You said 'Five minutes, Sovereign. Off you go'," Gwilym told him. "I assumed you meant I was to begin the countdown."

"Bless you, no!" Rhydian said merrily in a passable imitation of Marged. "I simply meant you were supposed to leave."

"Oh I see," Gwilym said sorrowfully. "I do apologise, Councillor."

"Never mind," Rhydian told him. "Human error! We'll just have to be clearer next time."

There was a pause as their gazes remained locked for a moment more, and then Rhydian turned abruptly away and back to Awen, his expression back to its easy-going mask. Behind him, Gwilym clearly tried not to grin.

"Right then!" Rhydian said energetically, striding forward. "Sit, all of you. Particularly you, you're far too tall."

"Sorry, Councillor," Caradog grinned. They all sat where they were, mostly on the floor. Awen perched on the edge of the bed. Suddenly, she felt calm again; the same sense of alert tranquility she got before battle. This was it, then. No more waiting. She hated waiting.

"Now then," Rhydian said. "In a minute I'm taking you back to the Great Hall, we're just waiting to clear the hallways a bit. You've made yourself quite the fanclub, you know. You may need to sign autographs."

"Have I?" Awen asked, astonished. "Why?"

"Because you were right," Rhydian shrugged nonchalently. "And you called Gwyn a big girl's blouse, and he's been a bit dour and unpopular at people recently, so you know. Reflected karma. Here. This is the part I can't shout at you for publicly."

He passed her the file, and Awen automatically took it and started reading, the familiarity of the situation comforting. It was entitled 'Council Restructuring'. She raised an eyebrow.

"Gosh," she said. Rhydian snorted.

"Yes," he said idly. "Although it's not quite that dramatic, mind. It's more to do with the Low Council. We're adding ten new faces to the ranks, for - well, it's on the first page, you can see why."

...mostly to adapt the Intelligencer Network. Each new Councillor will have been an Intelligencer and will become the liaison, with the aim of having one Low Councillor per City-state within eight years' time. Until then each Liaison Officer will have to cover two or three City-states each. Their function will be...

"This is because of me?" Awen guessed.

"Ha!" Rhydian grinned. "Of course it is. Try not to fall apart again, would you? Restructuring the politics of a country around one person who isn't meant to affect it in the first place makes an astonishing amount of paperwork. Gwenllian is not best pleased."

"I can imagine," Awen sighed sadly. She passed the file back, and Rhydian happily tucked it under one arm.

"Now," he said briskly. "Keep that in mind as we go, please, since I can't remind you of it in front of everyone. And now we're going to the Great Hall. Come on."

They were having to restructure the Council because of her. It was incredibly embarrassing, really, although Awen found she couldn't feel too bad about it. The gods only knew it was necessary, and it would definitely make Ioan's life easier now that he'd be taking over in Casnewydd. Which he must have been.

Rhydian pulled the door open and strode out, his authority dragging her along after him. Awen quickly sprang to keep up, the Wing all filing along behind her. Outside, the Aberystwyth Sovereign's Quarters were filled with random people by now, far more than Awen had yet seen in them under ordinary circumstances; servants and clerks all seemed to be very slowly wandering past, suddenly, cleaning things that in no way needed cleaning or scribbling notes onto pads without actually looking at the paper. Instead, they all seemed to be very badly disguising the fact that they were trying to stare at her, wide-eyed and fascinated. It made her feel deeply uncomfortable. She ignored them and focused on Rhydian's back instead.

"Right," he said quietly over his shoulder as they paused to open the main doors. "We've told them all not to bow to you because you won't like it, but people do love to get carried away, so brace yourself."

"'Them all'?" Awen repeated, startled. "How many are we talking - ?"

"Quite a few, quite a few," Rhydian grinned and pulled the door open into a corridor whose edges had become a solid wall of people, held back at intervals by Riders. Awen stared, horrified. "Ah, excellent! Fewer than before. They must have gone to the Great Hall."

"Are you alright?" Gwilym chuckled in her ear as Rhydian strode forward and away. Awen stumbled after him, trying not to look at anyone.

"Well," she said evenly, "I knew I was going to be punished. It's just more of the same, that's all."

"Flyn would have thought the opposite, you know," Adara said idly. "Because he was a great big ego."

"Yes, well." They turned a corner, and Awen found it was possible for the corridors to be even more packed. "It's the first time I've ever actually said this sentence, but I'm not Flyn."

"And I for one am grateful," Gwilym remarked, and in spite of how deeply unnerved she was with the situation Awen laughed, and suddenly the tension melted away from her. They were a shocked crowd, that was all. She could take that. She straightened her back, and lifted her chin, and moved forward.

"I owe Madog a pint now," she remembered thoughtfully. "He bet me I'd get purified."

"You didn't accept," Rhydian said without looking round, proving once and for all that he knew every conversation in the country. "But Dylan did."

"Oh, typical good-for-nothing Dylan," Adara said disgustedly. "Whereas Madog - also known as good-for-something Madog - has done himself proud."

"There's a nickname," Awen grinned. "I'll shout that at the Saxons next time. Although I doubt it'll have the same ring."

"As what?" Gwilym asked, amused. "What did you shout last time?"

"'Alpha Wingleader'," Awen shrugged. "They did not like that, I can tell you."

Rhydian laughed, not breaking stride, the sound immensely satisfied, and Gwilym smirked and shook his head. Awen recognised the expression. It was his 'Ah, Riders are so cute' face. She smacked him in the arm for it, and ignored his snigger.

There was a brief reprive from the crowds as they reached the Spiral Stairs and ascended a floor, probably because few Riders were willing to let people mill about on staircases when it presented such a large health and safety risk, but they were back in force again as they rejoined the corridors and were so thick around the Great Hall that the final few metres involved Rhydian actually pushing people out of the way. As they got to the doors, Awen felt the nerves kick at her again. What was going to happen next, anyway? Execution? Demotion to Guard? Tutor? Probably not, they wouldn't want her warping new generations of Riders, and she'd set a terrible example -

The doors swung open as the fanfare sang out, making Gwilym wince, and before she'd had chance to ready herself Rhydian was striding forward and Awen was hastily following, ignoring how clammy the palms of her hands had suddenly become...

The Hall was packed. It had been slightly filled beyond capacity earlier, too, but now it wouldn't have surprised her to have looked up and seen Riders forming human ladders over the balconies to watch. Every Sovereign was back, and every druid and every bard, and every member of the Low Council - ah, including Gwyn, whom she really owed an apology - and apart from Rhydian every High Councillor was already seated and waiting, Gwenllian drumming her fingers on the desk while Eifion gave everything he could physically see a withering glare. And the atmosphere was charged. The air felt thick with emotion, hundreds of people all leaning forward to see better, all standing on their feet and watching, the sussurration of their voices a low background hum. Awen glanced around them all once, instinctively gauging her surroundings, and then focused on moving to the right part of the floor. So far, she hadn't had to look at anyone's face. Ideally she wanted that to continue.

"Right!" Rhydian said briskly. "To your seat if you would, Sovereign - you lot, go and stand to the side. Awen, over there. So everyone can see you."

"Councillor," Awen sighed, as they all scattered. The spot where the chair that held Lord Flyn had been, then, she noted with objective approval. So that, yes, everyone could see her clearly, but she was sufficiently close enough to the High Council that she had to look up to see them on the dais. It was very efficient. The bastard.

She reached it and stopped, standing up straight and waiting impassively as Rhydian rounded the dais and reclaimed his seat. Here they went, then. Her body was now reacting to the situation like it did to battle; suddenly her senses were working overtime, telling her of the cold stone floor beneath her feet, the sweat on her back, the slight, lingering ache in her shoulders that Haf hadn't entirely been able to remove, the crowded presence of people around her, the continued muttered whispering, the faint scrape marks on the stones where the chair had been dragged away -

Rhydian stood.

"Sit," he commanded, and everyone in the room sat. Even Awen felt her knees bend. Rhydian smiled.

"Thank you," he said, his voice clear. "Now. Rider. Do you remember your Oaths?"

Ouch.

"Yes, Councillor," Awen returned neutrally. Gratifyingly she sounded completely steady. Rhydian nodded.

"Loyalty to the Union and to Cymru," he said. "Remember that bit?"

"Yes, Councillor."

"By all means," Rhydian said, waving a hand. "Explain your position on that."

"In an ideal world the two are interchangeable," Awen said. Her heart was hammering at her now. She gripped one wrist behind her back to hold herself steady. "But the Union is sadly not infallible, and ultimately the loyalty of any Rider is to Cymru, not an organisation."

"Not infallible?" Rhydian asked mildly. Awen groaned mentally. What did he want? Was she supposed to start shouting at Gwyn again?

"For all our strengths we're human, Councillor," she said, clinging to her neutral tone with both hands. "The Union included. And don't misunderstand me; I think the Union is an incredible institution that has done - and still does - an astonishing job at maintaining peace and order across a whole country without sacrificing freedom. And I personally don't consider it to have misstepped before. But if it does I think, therefore, that it's vitally important that someone corrects it."

"That someone being you?" Rhydian asked.

"This time," Awen allowed.

"Indeed?" Rhydian raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't do it again?"

"I'd hope I wouldn't have to," Awen returned, wondering if she'd get away with a side-step. Probably not -

"But if you did?"

Damn. "Then yes, Councillor," Awen said quietly. "If I had to, and I were the best-placed person to do so, yes. I'd do it again."

"One feels compelled to point out, then," Rhydian said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, "that you're as human as we are, Rider. For all of your considerable strengths. You felt we were wrong. Who's to say you were right about that?"

There was a pause.

"That was the risk," Awen agreed softly. "No one, Councillor. No one at all."

"Really?" He watched her for a moment, letting the loaded silence in the Hall stretch out. "That's it? That's your defence?"

"There's no other answer I can give," Awen said, smiling slightly. "Councillor, we're talking about the complexities of the human dynamic. Without meaning to become too philosophical, it's all ultimately subjective. All I can tell you is that it wasn't a decision I undertook lightly. And I took no pride in it. But yes; I'd do it again. Because within the boundaries of Union teaching and belief - if that's the framework of reference that we use - a very grave mistake was about to be made."

A quiet muttering broke out around the Hall as Rhydian watched her impassively. Awen stayed still, and held his gaze as clearly as she could. Where on earth was this going? She couldn't work it out. Everyone just looked serious or thoughtful or a mixture of the two; it was impossible to get a fix on prevailing opinion. Was she being given all the rope she wanted, here? Was that the point?

Mererid leaned forward, and Awen tried not to feel like she was fifteen again as she met her gaze.

"Rider," she said. She sounded stern, but she always did. "Could you summarise, for the benefit of those who weren't present in our previous meeting, what you consider that mistake to have been?"

"Without shouting at Gwyn," Gwenllian broke in, grinning, and ignored the Look she got from Rhydian. Awen winced, and quickly thought.

"It's a matter of subversion," she said at last. "Albeit unintentional. The purpose of the Union has always been to maintain the line between right and wrong. For everyone, on every level, but particularly politically speaking, because that's the level where the most damage can be done to society by the fewest people. Lord Flyn did things that no one, ever, should be allowed to do. And you were going to allow that."

"With conditions," Eifion broke in, his voice hard, and for the first time in her life Awen raised her chin and met his eye directly.

"Councillor, if the society is broken there is no point in defending it," she said clearly, hearing the words echo through the room. "If we aren't capable of maintaining ourselves as something good, something worthwhile, something better for longer than a fifty year stretch before the next self-inflicted war, then frankly, we should just take the border down now and bow the Saxons in. Because clearly, we don't deserve our independence."

And Eifion was frozen, staring at her transfixed, his eyes boring into her. Rhydian leaned forward carefully, and Awen looked at him instead with almost manic internal gratefulness. Somewhere inside her, her Inner Awen was screaming and throwing things at her. She didn't even have an excuse this time.

"Your view is that our society would have been broken?" Rhydian said neutrally.

"Compromised," Awen said. "You would have compromised it, and that invariably leads to destruction, yes. That would have destroyed public faith in the Union, and Riders in general. It would have told all Sovereigns, Nobles, Mayors and other positions of power that any schemes they wished to embark upon would not be stopped, whether Riders learnt of them or not. And it would have rather neatly informed all visiting envoys and therefore the wider world in general that Cymru is not the well-protected nation everyone, including ourselves, previously believed."

"Yes," Rhydian said, mildly. "I think you're right. Arguably, of course, that damage is now done anyway."

"I'd argue not," Awen said swiftly. She'd thought of that, and very much needed to make this point. "It was a split vote for one thing; but, more importantly, it was a misstep from the Union that was corrected by a Rider, not an external source. And if it isn't me next time, it will be someone else, Councillor."

"Very well." Rhydian glanced around the room quickly, the assembled crowds in the balcony, and then fixed his gaze on her. "Rider. You disobeyed several direct orders today and overturned an immensely important ruling in your nation's history, thereby placing yourself in direct control of the country's political direction - something which, as a Rider, you are expressly forbidden to do. Accordingly you will be stripped of rank and title and removed from the post of Alpha Wingleader -"

Good gods that hurt. It was like being punched. She'd been expecting it - she'd known it would happen, for gods' sakes, it would have been impossible to have gone back to her nice, comfortable life after this, and it had been unlikely anyway after Owain given how good Ioan's Wing was - but she very nearly recoiled physically. She loved being Alpha Wingleader. It was everything to her, and everything she'd definied herself by for so long -

People were talking, Awen realised, and forced herself to pay attention and get her breathing back under control. Everyone in the room seemed to be talking at once, not like an angry mob but just... talking to each other about it. Everyone had an opinion on it, it seemed. Rhydian raised an arm, and the noise stuttered to a halt.

"Rider," he said, still professionally shorn of emotion. Awen looked up at him, numbly knowing that she looked the same. "Your response?"

Maybe I'll stop crying myself to sleep three years from now, Awen thought, but there was an edge of suspicion creeping through the bitter haze. Rhydian was not normally sadistic. She bit back the pain, and considered an appropriate answer.

"I expected it, Councillor," she said neutrally, but apparently she wasn't allowed to side-step anything today.

"And are you happy with it?" he asked searchingly. She took a deep breath, and felt its loss. The automatic 'Yes, Councillor' died in her throat, unsaid.

"No," Awen said, steadily, her eyes on his hands instead of his face. "But I accept it."

"Good," Rhydian said, and sat up. "Now; concerning the matter of the Union and its actions earlier today, Rider, we find that your arguments are distressingly accurate. Where we should have acted with no mercy or hesitation we... compromised." A wry smile quirked his mouth, and he nodded to her. "And you're correct. A Union that does so endangers Cymru more than all of Saxonia. We have become what we swore we would defend against."

"I said that?" Awen said, alarmed. Gwenllian almost cackled.

"It was brilliant!" she said gleefully. "I made notes, I've got them somewhere..."

"You did," Rhydian said, giving Gwenllian another Look. "And you were right. There are things that, living here in the Union and away from the people of Cymru, we've perhaps lost sight of. And, of course, society will change. It does so away from us."

He regarded her for a moment more and then stood, elliciting immediate silence from the few people who had still been whispering to each other. Gwenllian stopped looking for her notes, even. Awen swallowed, and waited.

"We need someone to set us straight again," Rhydian declared, calmly and authoritatively into the silence. "To make sure the Union becomes what it should be again. You'll be promoted to Low Councillor immediately, with a mandate to -"

He didn't get any further, because this time the noise was deafening, people around the room and on their feet apparently thrilled with the proceedings and Awen didn't hear a single word of it. It felt like the bottom had dropped out of her stomach, or maybe just the world itself; the shock gripped her, shearing away any emotional response she might have had and leaving her incapable of doing anything but stare completely blankly at Rhydian. Their eyes met for a long moment, and then he started talking again, his voice completely lost under the furore.

"Well, as you can still see my mouth," he said, as Awen read the words straight off his lips. "You're a Liaison Officer, obviously. And you're covering Casnewydd, Wrecsam and Aberystwyth for now." His lips spread into a grin suddenly. "And you get to keep the Sovereign, obviously. As long as he'll have you."

Responses lined themselves up in her head, got bored as she didn't say them and left again. Rhydian laughed gleefully, watching her.

"But you weren't expecting this," he said, amused.

"No," Awen whispered, almost to herself. No, no she hadn't expected... this. It... no. No, she hadn't.

She couldn't feel her skin anymore. Was that bad? Was that a bad sign? Although, she'd noticed she couldn't feel her skin anymore, that was progress from a few moments ago at least -

Rhydian plucked a sheet of paper from the table in front of him and held it out, and Awen moved on autopilot to take it, her legs moving as though they'd forgotten what knees were. She took the page and stared at it blankly for a moment, until her brain got bored of waiting and started reading without her. It meant she was about halfway down the page before the content registered, and then she had to go back and do it again -

Masarnen Wing Promotion Status: Approved.

All members hereby promoted to Approval Officers, with licence to apply for any other positions they wish. Mandate to include the training, examining and certification of Wings and individual Riders of all ages once training is complete; age group specialisms are welcome. Primarily to be based in the Union but with frequent trips to the home Cities of the Wings under review to conduct examinations of prowess in a known environment -


Awen stopped reading, and placed a hand against the dais to hold herself up. All of them approved! They were staying together! And oh, Caradog was going to be pleased; he spent at least half his free time at home challenging random Riders to fights, now he got to do it as a job -

She glanced across the Hall to them where they were ecstatically jumping all over each other and hugging each other and - Awen's eyes narrowed - crying, at least in Llŷr's case. She was definitely going to call him a girl in a minute. Adara probably already had.

It was soothing, and helped to push aside some of the numbness. If he was as happy as he looked, actually, Caradog was going to be pretending he had something in his eye in a moment, Awen thought, moving back to her original position as Rhydian began the long call for silence. And Llio would be crying unabashedly because she had 'sweet' stamped on her forehead anyway, and Eluned would be jumping up and down a lot, and Adara wouldn't have stopped talking. And -

Good gods. She was a Councillor.

How the hell had that happened?

"If you could all wait until later to loudly shout your opinions?" Rhydian called above the noise, and it slid into being quieter not entirely instantly. He lowered his hands again as it died down to a mere background hum and nodded. "Thank you," he said, and smiled. "Which largely concludes this meeting. As I say, the posting is effective immediately so you'll need to go and sort out a new uniform next, after which I'll see you in my office. Dismissed, everyone."

He Saluted her.

"And thank you, Councillor," he said.