In The End - CassandraCainBB (2024)

Chapter Text

Ten Years After The Failed Assassination of Emperor Garmadon

The dream was always the same.

Everything was coated with a golden haze, like he was looking through a colored glass piece. Because of that, he couldn’t have possibly been confident in knowing exactly what the weapons look like—except he was. Deep in his gut, he was so sure of it, there was no room for even a hint of doubt. The weapons before him were made of pure gold, as gold as the most expensive coin in the market, as gold as the jewelry of the aristocrats, as gold as the fresh ore still protected by the embrace of the mountain. That confused him. Who would create weapons out of gold? Gold may be expensive, but it was brittle, it bent, it broke. It’s only use was its expense. Lloyd had always been taught that the strongest blades were made from steel mixed with iron at the perfect temperature, crafted only by the knowledgeable hand.

Yet, four weapons lay before him, and the power that radiated from them was undeniable. Dual shuriken, bladed with sharp edges, were cold to the touch and sent frost climbing up his arm. A scythe, larger and no doubt heavier than he could lift, had a blade that extended as long as he was tall, with the wisdom of the oldest tombs. Nunchaku, with eyes that burned with a white knowledge, had no chain holding the two grips together, rather what seemed to be lightening that was very much alive. And the blade, longer than any odachi he had ever seen, with beautiful curls of golden flames climbing it’s grip.

The boy reached for them, as he always did, but the result was the same. The frost of the shuriken turned his fingers black. The scythe might as well have been bolted to the ground for all he could lift it. The nunchaku sent a painful current through him, forcing him to pull back. Gripping the hilt of the sword sent fire rolling up his arm until he screamed. They were not meant for him, it was so very clear, and yet, he was drawn to them like a doomed fly to a flame. Why else would they be here if not for him?

As in every dream, he soon found out.

Four ghostly figures appeared around him, standing with the weapons at their feet around him. The same way that he was so sure that the weapons were golden despite the monochrome curtain, he knew that these figures shone with their own unique colors that he could not see. He could sense power, too, from these figures. One felt like patience, one like excitement, one like strength, and one like deep, corralled rage.

The figures picked up the weapons that lay at their feet and all four stepped forward, crowding him from all sides. From the way they put their weapons in front of them, towards him, it was clear that they were offering to give them to him. The boy tried to put his hands up, open his mouth and explain that he didn’t want them because they so clearly didn’t want him, but no words could be formed.

But the figures reacted like they had heard his thoughts. The weapons were pulled back in synchroneity, and the figures instead reached forward their free hands. Their hands were wrapped, like they were prepared for a boxing match, and that much was a strange detail while the rest of their bodies were almost too bright to look at.

Their hands touched him, flat against his chest, his left shoulder, his back, and his right shoulder.

Emotions poured through him, indescribable and overwhelming, as that radiated power was pushed through their hands and through his very being. He felt it fill his body, circulating his qi pathways, touching his dantians and overflowing them in the same breath. It was scary and confusing as much as it felt good, up until he looked up to face the figure in front of him with the firm hand placed at his chest.

He couldn’t see the figure’s face, if it even had a face beneath the glow, but he could feel it staring at him. The boy should have felt terrified or intimidated, but even in the face of such transformative power, all he felt was…safe. With the figure watching over him, an aura of familiarity and comfort calmed his rapidly beating heart. It was like coming in from a cold, snowy night and sitting by the hearth, a cup of fresh tea placed in his hands, and a warm smile above him. And he knew, in his heart, that he would never be in danger as long as these four figures stood with him.

The complete sense of safety was something near alien to him.

“Who are you?” He tried to ask every time.

He never got a response, but somehow he knew that he was being smiled at.

Prince Lloyd woke up.

He did not wake up panting, sweating, or thrashing among his sheets. The lingering sense of fear or devastation did not hold him captive. The aftermath of the dream was so unlike the sick feeling his constant nightmares gave him. Rather, he was filled with the pleasant sense of peace.

He loved having that dream for the peace that came with it, even though the details of the dream slipped away from his mind, like they did every time he woke up from it.

But the words Who are you? wanted to form on his lips.

Lloyd sighed, sitting up and pulling a leg up towards him to wrap his arms around it. His room was pitch black, deep within the palace, somewhere far from any windows. The most defensible possible position, he assumed, since the most defensible possible position was always the place he found himself. The place he was ushered to, more like.

There had been an attempt made to make up for the lack of windows. His bed was large enough to fit five men and graced with silk sheets beneath heavy comforters, and the most comfortable down pillows he could imagine. The cold floors were covered in rugs, the furniture made of intricately carved wood, the bedposts offering some privacy curtains. The room was large enough for a king—large enough for the only prince of the world’s Empire.

Even with all of the room’s amenities—it was still cold. Cold, like the rest of the palace, which offered little more comfort than a dank cave. The halls were, at least, not damp. Lloyd had been stuck within the palace walls for the past seventeen, going on eighteen, years and his arms still broke out in goosebumps the moment his sheets fell too far. That chill was quick to leech the remaining warmth that the dream gave him—the warm, safe dream that he could never properly remember.

Lloyd ran a hand through his knotted bedhead, pulling his hair back to glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table. The shocking electric numbers shone brightly in the otherwise dark room, so clearly out of place among the ancient designs and the torches that lined his walls.

The peace of the dream never left him groggy after waking, so Lloyd could forget trying to fall back asleep—but the numbers on the clock told him he would have had to get up soon, anyway.

“Great,” he said into the silence of his room, his fingers curled in his hair. “Come on, Lloyd. You can do this. Just get through the day.”

Forcing his own words to be his motivation, he gathered up his will and rolled out of bed.

By the light of the alarm clock, and his perfect memory of the room he’d stayed in since he could remember, he flicked the torches on. Purple flame burst to life around the room, lighting his bedchamber. With as little effort, Lloyd’s fingers found the hilt of his bokken, where the practice sword was tucked under the lip of his bedframe. He pulled it from it’s hiding spot and got to work on his forms.

The glide of the wooden blade was slow, snapping as Lloyd reached the peak of each form. Every movement was fluid and practiced, the hilt held in a very trained hand. Every extra flourish was controlled, each simple turn of the blade made to look insurmountable in such a hand. His feet swept across the floor, before slowing and placing firm. His back remained straight, his knees bent—it wasn’t long before he’d forgotten all about the chill in the room and began to sweat.

Lloyd tried to force himself to get lost in the familiar routine of his blade forms, but he found it difficult this time around. He could hear his teacher berating him in his head already—distracted training makes for poor training and poorer performance. Even if he’d done this every morning for hundreds of days, he should still be able to focus as if he was practicing each move anew.

But he couldn’t, and it didn’t have anything to do with his strange dreams. It was everything else in his life—everything else that was happening too soon, too fast.

“Your Highness?”

A knock on his door startled him and he fumbled with his bokken. His face flushed as he imagined his teacher watching him almost drop his weapon like a fresh-faced imperial cadet. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Uh—” He cleared his throat, hurrying over to his bed to slip his bokken back into the hidden alcove beneath it. “Yeah, yes? I mean—I’m awake!”

The door opened and an elderly man swept into the room with a grace that didn’t match his age. Spectacles sat at the end of his hooked nose, looking a bit too modern to match the expensively-embroidered servant’s lapel over the top of a robe with very long sleeves. A short, white goatee sat on his chin.

The chamberlain—glorified castle babysitter, the previously mentioned teacher called him—wrinkled his nose as he looked down at Lloyd, still crouched by his bed. “Your Highness, what are you doing on the ground?”

“I…Uh…” Lloyd’s eyes shifted frantically. “…Thought I dropped something, but—ah! There it is.”

He laughed awkwardly, plucking a hair ornament off of his bedside table, raising it up as an explanation. Chamberlain Noble did not look convinced at all, but then again, he’d never been one to fall for Lloyd’s antics even as a child.

“Of course,” the man said dryly, folding his arms together. “Your Highness, I’ve come to inform you that the palace will be having a guest arrive for a luncheon later today. Your father is expecting you to entertain the Lady Harumi Kurogane for the length of the day following the kitchen’s prepared meal. You’ll be free of the responsibility after escorting her to dinner with your father tonight, where they will be discussing business.”

Lloyd frowned. “My father’s discussing business with…Lady Harumi? Who will be escorting Governor Kurogane and his wife?”

The chamberlain pursed his lips. “…No need to worry about that, Your Highness. Lady Harumi is your only concern, today. Your tutor has been notified that you will not be attending lesson so that you may prepare for her arrival. If you’d wash up, I will send in the servants in an hour’s time for you to dress.”

“…Okay, I guess.” Lloyd’s eyebrows pinched together. Chamberlain Noble wasn’t telling Lloyd something. Strange—he usually kept Lloyd informed of anything that went on in the palace.

The chamberlain bowed shallowly, hands still folded in front of him. “Good. Now, I have other preparations to attend to. Oh, and Your Highness—I thought you’d want to know. A summons was sent out to the Dune Sea by falcon early this morning.”

A summons from his father—the Dune Sea—

Lloyd’s eyes lit up. He tossed the hair ornament away. “Really? Is it an immediate summons?”

“It is,” Chamberlain Noble bowed his head, his frown softening. “He should be returning by tomorrow night.”

Lloyd barely held back a relieved cry of, Finally! It had only been a few months, but it felt like years had passed since such a summons had been sent.

“Thank you, chamberlain,” Lloyd bowed back, feeling giddy, with a stupid smile to match. “I’ll wash up right away.”

The elderly man left the room with as much grace as he’d arrived. Outside his door, Lloyd got a glimpse of his two hulking guards before it closed. He went to draw himself a steaming bath. The mechanical falcon was probably halfway to the Dune Sea already, along with the message it carried. That thought alone made him forget about whatever the chamberlain hadn’t been telling him.

He wrapped himself in a silky white under robe once he’d washed himself, finding himself in front of his mirror as he tried to detangle his wet hair. Even damp and slick, the blonde curls seemed to fight against him. He cursed as he tried to take a comb through it, knowing that his servants wouldn’t be as gentle, royal status be damned. The door opened as he did—Lloyd jumped, paling in the face at the thought of someone overhear his uncouth mouth. If the chamberlain heard he was swearing again, someone was going to get another tongue-lashing from him, and it wouldn’t be Lloyd.

He was manhandled into the hanfu of the day, this one of heavy black velvets and smooth purple accents. He was given a long, purple haori, laced with beautiful designs of silver. His sleeves, at least, were not as long as Chamberlain Noble’s. A belt of silver threads and grey silks was wrapped around his waist, ornaments of the Empire’s obsidian, tipped with raw diamond decorating his skirts.

One of the maids tilted his head back and went after his hair, showing him no mercy even as it dried. His face remained impassive, even as he winced at the amount of gel packed down to keep his hair under control. Curls much more artful than his natural shag were twirled by the maid. On a normal day, he’d be free of the helmet of styling gel, and his robes would have been much more breathable, but on days where he was presented to guests, military leaders, or even enemies, he was not allowed to appear as anything other than perfect.

He’d have hoped it wouldn’t have to be so when it came to the Kurogane family. After all, the Governor and his family had watched Lloyd grow up playing with their daughter. They had always been his father’s most loyal—that was the reason they held the highest position a civilian could in his father’s empire. Of all of the governors across the Empire of the Darkest Night, they required the least amount of intimidation, and certainly not from Lloyd. Yet, he was expected to play the part, pretending that he hadn’t stripped himself nude as a two-year-old and streaked through one of their meetings with his father.

Lloyd’s impassive face flushed at himself in the mirror. His chamberlain never let him forget that story when Lloyd thought himself as dignified.

“Look here, please, Your Highness,” one of his servants took his chin in hand and turned his face down. He let her, even when he wanted to sneeze with the sudden burst of makeup in his face.

Another servant tugged at his lengthy haori. “Lift this arm, please, Your Highness.”

“Now, Your Highness, please do not touch your hair before suppertime,” the maid behind him said, patting Lloyd’s shoulder. “You’re expected to remain with your father’s guest and no one will be able to give you a touch-up.”

“Yes, Gene, thank you,” Lloyd said, exasperated.

The woman gave him a dry eyebrow raise in the mirror. Lloyd forced himself to remain straight-shouldered. Sure, yeah, okay, he may have a bad habit of running his hand through his hair at inopportune moments, causing some grief to his primping staff, but he knew better than to do that when with a governor’s daughter. He had taken plenty enough etiquette classes over the years.

Finally, the servants straightened his haori and dusted off his shoulders, stepping back to survey their hard work. Lloyd looked like, well…he sighed internally. With his angled jaw and soft nose lacking any visible blemishes, his hair perfectly pristine, his robes intricate and unwrinkled…he looked like a prince. But looking into his own bright red eyes, he couldn’t help but think it was obvious that underneath it all, he was just a boy, wearing the colors that his father loved to stamp over everything he owned.

To the second that he was finished, the door was knocked upon once more and opened to reveal yet another servant come to aid him. The three that had helped him dress bowed and complimented him in mumbles before being excused by the new servant that had stepped into the room.

This new servant was a boy, like Lloyd, that could be mistaken for a man. He was not an inch taller than Lloyd, which would not have been a difficult feat, with shaggy black hair that had been pulled back for the sake of professionalism, though not as royal as Lloyd’s had been. Grey eyes flashed above pale freckles as the other young man stepped close to Lloyd, narrowed eyes studying his makeup and making sure his hair was in order.

The servant nodded.

“Yep, they did it. You look like a ken doll.”

Lloyd scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It doesn’t get funnier the more you say it.”

“Says you, sure,” the servant said, a grin slowly appearing on his face. “Come on, I’m joking. You look great, obviously.”

Lloyd valiantly ignored the way the compliment sent heat to his cheeks after barely noticing the praise of the maids from before.

“Thanks, I guess. Not excited for the reason extra-dress was mandatory today, though.”

“Oh…right.”

Brad glanced away with a grimace, his face losing a shade behind his freckles. Lloyd’s friend clasped his hands together in front of him, a movement Lloyd recognized as a professional way to stop from picking at his fingers. Lloyd frowned.

He’d known Brad a long time. Like Harumi, Brad was only a little older than Lloyd, and unlike Harumi, he’d grown up in the palace alongside Lloyd since they’d been small. Born into the life of a servant, it seemed, after his father had worked in the palace. Because of that, it was easy to tell that something was wrong. Just like the chamberlain.

A frown tugged at Lloyd’s lips. “What? Do you know something? Why do I keep getting the feeling that something’s wrong?”

Brad worked his jaw, glancing at the doors. The large, double set of oak was sealed down the middle—not a crack open. On the other side were Lloyd’s two bodyguards, keeping any eavesdroppers far away, and they themselves had notoriously bad hearing.

Still, as long as they were in the palace, it could never be assumed that it was safe to talk freely for the servants. After all, the place was coated in his father’s inherit oni magic. There was no telling what he could or could not hear—not that Lloyd thought his father would ever be listening in on him. The man was busy, after all, running the entire world. And he respected Lloyd’s privacy, obviously.

Brad took a deep breath, glancing back at Lloyd, his voice hardly above a whisper. “The palace’s guest is going to be Lady Harumi, right?”

“Yeah, so?” Lloyd’s heart sunk. Of course it had something to do with her.

“There are rumors…” Brad threw one last futile glance at the door. “You should probably know before you’re thrown into the dragon’s den.”

“…If this is about Harumi being…difficult, then you don’t have to—”

“It’s not,” Brad cut him off. His faced whitened a little more and he stuttered to add, “Your Highness.”

Lloyd gave him a weird look, but Brad continued before he could comment on his strange anxiety.

“Governor Tenno Kurogane and his wife are dead. The rumor I heard most likely to be true is that they were poisoned last night and died in their own beds.”

Lloyd’s body physically recoiled in shock, arm pulling back further from Brad. He felt like he’d been shocked with an electrical charge, his heart jumping in his chest. “What? There’s—No, no way. You’re serious? They’re dead?”

“On my father’s ashes, it’s true. The city is in hysteria.”

“No wonder she’s been called to the palace,” Lloyd murmured. And why the summons went out. There was going to be a mess to clean up. “Do they have any suspects in custody?”

Brad shook his head. “No. Far as I can tell, the public out there is blaming the rebellion. The Empire hasn’t released any statements, yet.”

Yes, of course they were. The Empire’s propaganda was incredibly well integrated, so of course the only possible danger to it would be an outside force. In truth, the constant struggle for power and authority that Lloyd’s father encouraged within his own ranks was often wrought with bloodshed. It could have very well been some lucky rebel—but it could have just as easily been any of the governors or political enemies that had long sought Governor Kurogane’s high seat.

Lloyd’s father enjoyed…drama. After all, there was no need to worry about anyone plotting for the crown, when they were too busy plotting for the next-highest rank. Besides, his father said that the competition brought out the best in people. And by best, his father certainly meant the worst, most hideous parts of people.

Lloyd crossed his arms and put a hand over his mouth to think. Governor Kurogane had held his position since before Lloyd was born, for over thirty-five years. His death would no doubt shake the very foundations of the political hierarchy.

Lloyd, to his own surprise, even found himself feeling grief at the news of his death. Governor Kurogane had been a good man, hadn’t he? After all, he’d been so popular in Ninjago City, and with Lloyd’s father, and he’d given Lloyd treats as a child. He’d been almost like an uncle to Lloyd, despite their far between interactions.

“How am I supposed to face Harumi?” Lloyd said behind his hand, shell-shocked. “Knowing her parents were just murdered…What am I supposed to say?”

“…I don’t know,” Brad said. Then, far under his breath, “I’m not so sure she’ll be all that torn up about it, anyway.”

Lloyd whipped his head around with a glare that he usually would never level on a friend like Brad. “How could you say that? Just because she was adopted into the family doesn’t mean they didn’t love each other like they were blood.”

Brad’s eyes flickered over his face, then quickly away. He bowed his head, properly cowed, and Lloyd instantly felt bad. Who was he to speak to his best friend that way? Like he was just another servant?

Brad stepped back, saying, “Right, Your Highness. You’re right. Let’s go—I’m supposed to be escorting you to morning meal right now.”

Lloyd glanced at his reflection—loosening his tightened jaw—before gesturing for his friend to lead the way.

-

Outside his bedroom door, two grand sentries stood, where they had been stationed all night without so much as a twitch of the knee. They’d been chosen to guard Lloyd for just that purpose—they didn’t require rest, food, entertainment. Nor did they feel pain or boredom or cowardice. After all, warriors of the undead lacked any will of their own, the Emperor having complete domination over each and every one apart from the legendary Commander Samukai.

The two skulkin, nicknamed ‘bonemen’ by the general public, looked completely inanimate when immobile aside from the glowing blue orbs that floated within their eye sockets. These two specific skulkin had been granted the finest of plate armors, and each carried a dual-bladed battleaxe bigger than Lloyd’s entire body. Next to the two eight-foot-tall behemoths that constantly followed Lloyd around, Lloyd looked even shorter than his already short stature.

As soon as he stepped from his bedchamber and into the flickering light of the hallway, the two skulkin twitched and their joints creaked and groaned as they prepared their stiff bodies to move. Brad flinched at their sudden movement after being so absolutely still. Lloyd didn’t—he was used to Chopov and Nuchal’s horror-show existence.

He dutifully ignored them, striding passed with his head held high and every step as elegant as air. Brad hurried to keep up with him, throwing the two skulkin another nervous glance when they began to trail Lloyd. The groaning creak of bone against bone was enough to send shivers up anyone’s spine—especially when the heavy footsteps sounded ready to stomp over Lloyd any moment.

Then, there was the clack and grit of Chopov’s jaw as he communicated with Nuchal in the skulkin’s ominous language.

Lloyd tried his best to smile and nod at passing servants and staff on his way to breakfast, but their faces quickly lost all color as they bowed, then leapt out of the way and pressed themselves into the black stone walls to avoid collision with the careless giants following him. He detested these occasions—the ones where Chopov and Nuchal were assigned to him for lack of a suitable protector. It had begun to happen more and more until it was the unfortunate usual for him. It made Lloyd long for the simpler days, before his existence had been revealed to the public, before the old Captain of the Guard had been promoted to Commander of the Central Plains.

His day went along quietly leading up to the luncheon. Unbearably quiet. Quiet in the way that a room was quiet when everyone was holding their breaths. It seemed the rumors of the governor’s death had swept the palace through gossiping servants such as Brad and it was putting everyone on edge. Lloyd had a dreadful feeling that it was because of his father. Though Lloyd hadn’t seen him today, nor did he most days, he could feel the contemplative mood of the darkness that hugged the palace. The palace staff was waiting to feel that contemplation turn one way or the other.

If it took a turn for the worse, servants would have to begin walking on egg shells or else risk losing their lives to the ire of Lloyd’s father. Lloyd felt weary thinking about it.

Time went by far too quickly. Lloyd hadn’t even thought about what he was going to say to Harumi before he was herded to the Grand Hall to greet her.

The spiked doors were pulled open by two of the Imperial Guard—the steel-plate chested, very human, men with banners of violet denoting their importance. As it opened, the wind of the valley made the banners within the Grand Hall flutter—but the Lady Harumi Kurogane looked entirely untouched by any weather.

There was no doubt that Lady Harumi was a stunningly beautiful woman. She’d been a pretty girl and had certainly grown into her looks—with wide eyes, heart-shaped lips, and an upturned nose. Her snow white hair had been swept up behind her head, held in place by pins decorated with shining silver leaves. Her robes were jet black, lacking any embellishments or embroideries. A black veil covered the top half of her face, denoting a woman in mourning.

Lloyd smoothly stepped forward, his face falling against his better wishes. Despite the makeup and veil, he thought he could see the pain on her face, in the way she walked.

Harumi bowed deeply, hands pressed against her skirts. “Your Imperial Highness, I am humbled to stand before you. May I express my sincerest gratitude for your gracious hospitality.”

“Please, rise, Lady Harumi,” Lloyd said, a brief bow of his own head. “It is our pleasure to host you. Let me be the first in Shadowspire to give you my deepest condolences for your loss.”

She rose, now close enough for Lloyd to see straight through the mask of her veil. Behind it, her eyes were weak and full of sorrow. Lloyd’s heart broke for her. Had they been in private, he wouldn’t have hesitated to step forward and pull his old friend into a tight hug. They may have had their differences in the past, but anyone would deserve comfort after going through an ordeal such as she had. Lloyd couldn’t imagine what it must be like, for her to lose her father like that. If he were to ever lose his…

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she acknowledged, clasping her hands together, hiding them within the folds of her sleeves. “I’m honored to have the support of the Emperor and am comforted beyond words to be graced with your empathy. ”

“I hope your journey was made comfortable?”

“Yes, Your Highness. The servants of Shadowspire attended to my every need, though I admit that I am feeling a bit faint after all of the stress that my heart has endured.”

“Of course, I understand. We’ve prepared a banquet for you to regain your strength and rest your body. Please, allow me to escort you.”

Lloyd held his arm out. Pale, slender fingers slipped under his elbow and held with the gentlest of grips. Despite the loose hold, Lloyd could still feel Harumi’s sharp nails grazing his arm.

As he walked her down the corridor, he couldn’t help but think about how strange this was. Putting on the whole act of the Empire’s Prince in front of Harumi was always weird. After all, she’d tattled on him when they were kids for trying to put a whoopie cushion on his father’s chair in the war room. She’d tripped him when they played chase in the gardens and laughed at him for crying. Being two years older than him, he’d always followed her around, looking to her example, she’d been so cool for a ten-year-old, and it felt unnatural for their roles to be so reversed, even after all this time. The Harumi back then would have laughed cruelly at the idea of bowing so low to Lloyd.

But he supposed he wasn’t the only one who’d been forced to fit into the mold of their position. He would always be the prince and she would always be below him, even as the daughter of a governor. Well, after his eighteenth birthday, that was.

They left the imperial guards that had escorted Harumi, and those stationed in the Grand Hall. Only the skulkin remained, Brad trailing somewhere behind them. They had some semblance of privacy.

Lloyd quietly asked, “I am so sorry about what happened to your parents. It’s…It’s just horrible. How are you doing?”

“I…” She sighed as they walked. “I’m alright. Well, not alright, but…I’m managing. The threat was always there—with rebels around every corner, and the job my father had…It almost feels like it was inevitable. Like I’ve been waiting for the day to come for far too long.”

Her voice was so drawn, so sad—it was so unlike the Harumi that Lloyd remembered, so full of fire. He reached a hand up and squeezed the one she held his arm with. He hoped she could see the real grief in his eyes when she looked up at him.

“I’m here for you, ‘Rumi,” he promised. “You’re not alone in this. And whatever happens, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, I swear it.”

She smiled sadly. “Thanks, Lloyd. It really does mean a lot. Not a lot of people…I don’t have many friends these days. But…there was more going on then you know.”

They reached the Dining Hall. Two servants were already waiting for them and they swung the doors open as Lloyd and Harumi stepped forward. The smell of the food within was often mouth-watering, but today, the smell made Lloyd’s stomach curdle. His appetite was a finicky thing, especially when death was on his mind.

He lead Harumi to the head of the table and she sat to the right of it, where a place had been set for her. Lloyd sat across from her—the head of the table reserved for none but the Emperor, when his father decided to grace the Dining Hall with his presence—which was rare, to put it kindly.

“What do you mean?” Lloyd asked as servants began to serve their plates and fill their silver goblets. “What do I not know?”

Harumi reached up and gracefully flipped her veil back, revealing her stormy eyes. Lloyd felt another pang in his chest—she really was beautiful.

“My parents…”

Lloyd quietly thanked the servants for dishing food onto his plate. Harumi ignored them completely, picking up her goblet and sipping daintily at the wine that had been poured. Her voice suddenly hardened.

“…were traitors. They’d been helping the rebellion for months—maybe years.”

Lloyd was lucky he hadn’t been taking a drink, yet, the goblet halfway to his mouth—because he choked at Harumi’s words.

“What?” He hadn’t meant for his tone to sound so incredulous, but how could he help it? The Kuroganes? Rebels? There mere thought was so ridiculous, Lloyd almost laughed at a grieving young woman. But her serious expression dried up any humor in him. “You’re—I’m sorry, my lady, but you can’t be…”

You can’t be serious. Lloyd couldn’t even finish saying it. What kind of grieving daughter would slander her parents like that after their death just for the heck of it? There was no way it could be true—the Kuroganes would have done anything for Lloyd’s father. Lloyd was sure of it because someone Lloyd trusted very much was utterly sure of it, and he was never wrong about these kind of things.

But looking into Harumi’s face, there was no doubt that she believed it. Beside the grief and the sadness, there was a righteous anger and betrayal that held no doubt.

“It’s true,” Harumi told him firmly. “I have evidence. Lloyd, I loved my parents more than anything, you know that—but what they did…trying to poison our great Empire…it was unforgivable. I would have never wished for this, but I can’t help but think…maybe the universe was punishing them for what they’d done.”

Lloyd stared at her, then took a long drink of wine. Huh. Karma. Sure.

“That’s…I don’t even know what to say,” Lloyd told her dumbly. “That’s just horrible. I’m so sorry that you’ve gotten caught up in this.”

A shot of fear made his heart tremble in his chest.

His father had called Harumi for a meeting after her parents had betrayed him to the rebellion? If this was true, which Lloyd still wasn’t sure he believed…then Lloyd had a terrifying feeling that his friend was not going to come out of his father’s War Room alive. There was nothing more legendary in all of the Realm than his father’s bottomless rage in the face of betrayal. Lloyd was so afraid that through Harumi, he would seek some sort of retribution, seeing as her parents were already dead.

His father’s infamous live executions were a testament to his need to satiate his anger with blood.

If this were the case, Lloyd knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Was this meal to fatten up the calf before her death? Some last mercy of his father’s?

Whatever ability he’d had to chew and swallow before drained out of him. He drank more of his wine as Harumi cut her stake across from him.

“I’d like if we didn’t talk about this anymore,” Harumi said quietly. “What about you, Your Highness? How have you been?”

“Me?” Lloyd echoed hollowly. “I…I’ve been fine. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened for a while.”

“Really? Because I heard the palace had a scare not a week ago.”

Lloyd didn’t freeze purely because of his training, both physical and social. He instead hid his brief hesitation behind his goblet. A week ago…that incident had been kept under very tight wraps, per his father’s orders. Though it had been far from the first assassin sent after him, it had gotten far too close for comfort and had known the palace all too well.

It didn’t bode well that the news of it had reached Harumi.

“Yes, well, as you can see—” Lloyd hooked a thumb over his shoulder, where the hulking skeleton guard hovered on the inside of the doorway. “—I am fairly safe wherever I go. Besides, I was never in the same room as the threat—they didn’t get near close enough before it was handled.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. It’s bad luck that it happened while your usual…security is out of town.”

“Yeah, well…” Lloyd picked at his food. “The Shogun has more responsibilities than just me, these days.”

“I’m sure he’ll be returning soon, won’t he?” Harumi leaned forward. “After all, you’ve got quite the celebration to prepare for at the end of the month.”

He looked away, scratching at his hair only to be met with solidified curls under hardened gel. He quickly pulled his hand down, as if Gene was going to jump out of the shadows and give him her stink-eye. Right.

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighed. “It’s just another birthday.”

“Yours is the only eighteenth birthday in Ninjago that will be immediately followed by a coronation ceremony, Your Highness,” she teased softly. “You can’t tell me it hasn’t been on your mind.”

“Alright, I won’t tell you, then.”

She laughed a little, and sure, it was short and quiet, but it was there. His heart felt a little lighter hearing it—even if his soul felt heavy with the exact thing she’d been talking about. The thing that he’d been trying to avoid thinking about to spare himself the stress.

The coronation. The day he will officially go from being the Emperor’s son to the Crown Prince—the next in line to take the throne of the world. It was only a formality, likely being made into a large celebration to give the Empire a day to cheer and drink together and be happy for the future of all. But the idea of it filled Lloyd with dread. The idea of the entire Empire was so heavy. It was a burden Lloyd had always been aware of, but never something he could truly know. After all, since the day he’d been born, the only small piece of Ninjago that Lloyd had ever been allowed to see was everything within the Veils. He’d never even stepped a foot through the crack. Sure, he could see some of the shiny buildings from behind it, and he got to catch a glimpse of the sun every hour before it set, but that was all.

How could he dare inherit a world that he didn’t know? How could he claim that he had any right, that he had the knowledge and wisdom necessary, when he was stuck in this black-walled palace twenty four hours a day, going on eighteen years?

It made him feel sick to think about. Ninjago deserved better than that—or, from what Lloyd knew of Ninjago, he imagined it did.

But what came out of his mouth was, “I’ve been preparing for that day my whole life. I guess that means I’ve got to be ready for it by now, right?”

“I don’t know.” Harumi’s eyes were kind and sympathetic. “Do you feel ready?”

Lloyd glanced around. It was just them, the skulkin, and Brad with his hands folded in front of him, waiting for any needs they may have. Brad looked like he was zoned out, his feet shifting uncomfortably after standing there for so long. But Lloyd felt safe talking in front of him and Harumi.

“…No,” Lloyd said. “I don’t. I feel like I’m going to let everyone down. What do you think, ‘Rumi? You know what the world out there is like. Do you…Do you think…?”

He sighed.

“Forget it.”

A foot tapped the toe of his dress boots lightly. Lloyd looked up. Harumi smiled at him, gentle. “I think, when the day comes, Ninjago will love the person that puts on that crown.”

Lloyd smiled back. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you. Sorry to lay all this on you after…”

“Hey, none of that, Your Highness. You listened to me, so of course I’ll listen to you. What else are friends for?”

-

Lloyd’s walk about the palace with Harumi felt like a death march.

He wasn’t sure if she could feel the tension in the air, the simmering anger in the energy of the palace, but he sure could. If she could, she did a fantastic job hiding it. She seemed perfectly fine, content even, holding onto Lloyd’s arm as they surveyed the gardens. Sure, there was a sadness about her, but nothing screamed ‘I know I’m about to die!’

Lloyd swallowed down his vomit when their time together came to and end and he was to escort the Lady back through the palace to leave her to his father. He clasped his arms together so that she wouldn’t feel the tremble going through them, but he wondered if she could anyway, their hands pressed together on his arm and all.

He hated this.

He hated that he knew he could do nothing. He hated even more that he knew it was coming and was just as helpless as he would be if he had no idea. Unfortunately, he had a very good idea. He’d seen what his father could do, as much as his father had tried to keep his governing separate from his relationship with Lloyd. Lloyd knew that most of the time, it was justified—after all, it was his father. He knew his father maybe wasn’t a good person—but he wasn’t a monster. He just had a tough job and he loved Lloyd, and anyone who could love Lloyd as much as his father did couldn’t be a monster. It was Lloyd’s own fault when he forced his father’s hand around him. His father just did what he had to do.

Lloyd desperately wished that hurting Harumi was not something his father had to do. She was one of Lloyd’s only real friends—one of the only other people in the world that cared about him. The thought of losing her tore at him, it was all he could think about, even as she was holding onto him and speaking in that gentle voice of hers. It was like he was holding onto a dead woman walking.

In the end, it would be up to his father. That’s where the final judgement always fell, and where Lloyd would always accept it from. After all, even if Lloyd couldn’t understand, his father was always right. He’d seen the world and conquered it—how could he ever be wrong?

“It was—It was good talking to you, ‘Rumi,” Lloyd told her, squeezing her hand tight as they stood before the doors to the throne room. “I really enjoy spending time with you. I hope…I really hope that the next life is kinder to you. To us all. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

He tried to ignore the burn in his eyes as he looked at her beautiful face, trying to commit it to memory.

She just smiled. It was a knowing smile—but there was no fear. She patted his hand. “Thank you, Your Highness. I like spending time with you, too. Maybe we should do it more often.”

He nodded. First Master, his eyes were burning so bad. He desperately blinked back his tears.

The black doorway groaned as the imperial guards began to open it.

Lloyd quickly hugged Harumi. She startled, but melted into the embrace and squeezed him back. When they pulled away, her hand trailed on his and squeezed his fingers, giving him one last smile before she pressed a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Then, she walked with all the confidence in the world, and the heavy doors closed behind her.

Lloyd, left behind, felt colder than he’d ever been.

He touched his cheek, where her lips had been, and clenched his jaw—to ensure that he didn’t make a noise as he began to cry.

A hand touched his elbow. He flinched—he hadn’t even processed the way he’d frozen on the spot, staring at the door where he’d sent Harumi to his father, to her death. But it had been the right thing. Whatever his father wanted was the right thing, the thing that he was supposed to do. Even when it made him feel sick to his stomach with grief and desperation.

“People’s lives, every single one of them, are so valuable, Lloyd. It doesn’t matter where they come from, what they’ve done, who they are. Life…Life is so precious. You have to remember that.”

“I think my father would say otherwise.”

“Hey, look at me. You’re not him. You just aren’t. You have to see beyond his eyes. Look at the world with your own and you’ll see that strength, power, they don’t make you strong. It’s not hard to hurt people. You know what’s really hard? Being kind to someone, even when you think they don’t deserve it.”

“If it’s hard, why would anyone do it? Especially when someone doesn’t deserve it.”

“Because…Because there’s goodness in this world. And if you could just see it…you’d realize that it’s worth fighting for.”

“But…what if I can’t? I think…I think I’m already bad. I think I already hurt people.”

“You are a lot of things, kid, but you are not evil. Trust me, I know what that looks like. And…even if you were…I don’t think it’s ever too late to change.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Brad nudged him until his feet began to move. Lloyd walked back towards his bedchamber, Chopov and Nuchal clamoring after him. Brad was saying reassuring words, speaking gently, like Lloyd would break apart, but it didn’t help. Nothing would. The guilt in Lloyd’s heart was too heavy. He had done nothing.

Even now, he felt that he could do nothing. Nothing was up to him. Nothing was his choice.

More than any time he had made the wish before, he prayed to the First Spinjitsu Master to allow him to sprout wings and fly far, far away from this place.

-

He woke up shaking and gasping between sweaty sheets the next morning.

The moment his eyes shot open, he rolled on his side, clutching his chest and pinching the bridge of his nose as he desperately attempted to get his breathing under control. He curled his knees up tightly to himself. The violent imagination of Harumi’s neck cracking filled his ears, the sight of blood welling up in her eyes and slipping down her white cheeks making him gag. There was a trickle of fear, there—at the sight of his father standing, four hands twisting and twisting at her neck until the skin began to separate and muscle pulled apart—

Lloyd squeezed his eyes shut and breathed. His bedchamber was so quiet other than the pathetic sounds of his own panic. He latched onto the silence, as he would during meditation, and tried to employ the breathing exercises he’d been taught.

After a few minutes, he managed to banish the images of the nightmare from his mind. He rolled onto his back, slumping properly on his sheets. He could only stare at the curtains hanging above him as grief filled him, beginning at his feet and climbing his body, until it felt entirely numb. Lady Harumi…Had that been how she had died? Or had his father been merciful on her and simply cut her head? Or perhaps she wasn’t even dead yet and his father was waiting to put her on proper execution today for her family’s betrayal.

He should have tried to stop it—tried to defend her. But his father had never listened to him before, why would he now? Lloyd had been warned by him and the Shogun both to never get too attached to anyone within the court—they could, after all, be snuffed out at any moment within the lethal political landscape or his father’s own ire. It was his own fault that his heart felt so heavy with sorrow.

He just couldn’t understand, even after all this time, how his father could love Lloyd so much, protect him so fiercely, and extend none of that loyalty to any of his dedicated subjects. It was just…how it would always be.

When his alarm clock went off, all Lloyd wanted to do was hold his own pillow to his face until he passed out again. Instead, he rolled off of his bed and lost himself to his martial arts forms.

He’d barely dressed after his steaming bath of the day before Gene and his dressing servants barged in yet again. He almost groaned aloud at them, but didn’t dare complain in reality. He wasn’t surprised extra dress was going to be required of him today—he’d likely appear on television with whatever statement was made in response to the governor’s death. In addition to that, a return of one of the three Commander of the Armies was treated with some fanfare within Shadowspire, complete with a greeting from all of the troops and trainees from the barracks, a salute from the Imperial Guard, and the eyes any palace staff available. Lloyd would be expected to attend, presenting his best, to represent his father.

That thought soothed some of Lloyd’s downcast expressions, but he could tell even Gene was concerned by her pursed lips. He quietly thanked them when they were finished, their praise at his good looks falling on deaf ears.

When Brad arrived to escort him, he was far too chipper for Lloyd’s liking.

“Good morning, You Highness!” He smiled too wide, flitted around too lightly. Brad, too, was dressed in his nicest servants clothes, as he’d be involved in greeting of the Commander—a much more scrutinized task than aiding in escorting an ex-governor’s daughter. “How did you sleep last night?”

Lloyd glowered at him. His voice sounded tired to his own ears. “Could have been better.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You don’t sound very sorry, Lloyd thought bitterly, watching Brad hurry to collect his laundry into a basket.

He had a feeling Brad’s good mood coincided with Lloyd’s poor one for a reason. Harumi had been…raised in wealth, like Lloyd, but unlike Lloyd, she hadn’t been taught the value of those working below her and the respect they deserved. Even when they’d been children, and Lloyd had played with Brad below the buffet tables, she had been unnecessarily…rough on him, not understanding the nuances of loyalty. Perhaps they had never been on friendly terms at all, but Lloyd still felt a flash of hurt that Brad was treating her loss so lightly.

Lloyd remained tight-lipped toward Brad as he was escorted to morning meal, the crack of bones following them through the hallways.

The door was open for him by two of the kitchen staff—also wearing their finest serving robes—and shock floored him.

“Lady Harumi?!” He gasped.

The young woman quickly stood from her chair, a smile playing at her lips, and bowed at his presence. “Good morning, my prince.”

Brad was badly hiding a cheeky, knowing smile.

Lloyd quickly stepped forward into the room, wanting nothing more than to rush up to her and check her over, but wary of the eyes of the guard and servants in the room.

He stuttered to retain his professionalism. “You—You look exquisite today, my lady.”

You look alive! He thought privately, unable to pick his jaw up off the floor.

He had lost the garbs of mourning, her hanfu in dark colors with a high-waisted skirt, the wrap on her chest lined with a purple decorated in silver phoenix designs. Her hair had been pulled up yet again, perfect bangs framing her face, uncovered by any veil. Her lips were bright red. The sheer white shawl that draped down her skirts made her look like she was glowing—ethereal.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” She curtsied at the compliment. “You look absolutely stunning yourself—none other could compare to the prince of our great empire. Would the prince be gracious in allowing me to dine with him?”

Lloyd blinked. The dining table was even fuller than it had been yesterday—light streamed in through the windows on the north side, facing the garden. It was an unnaturally bright day in Shadowspire, which meant it must be beautiful out in Ninjago.

“Of course,” he waved his hand in permission. “Of course, please, join me.”

Lloyd couldn’t stop staring across the table, even after Harumi began to eat, even her chewing refined, as a governor’s daughter should be.

He struggled to form a way to ask the question he so wanted to, wary of the audience they had this day. If only the servants were not feeling so anxious about the greeting ceremony, perhaps they would not feel the need to be waiting on them so hand and foot. Harumi, at least, seemed to be enjoying the extra attention from them—one even offered her a foot rub.

“Lady Harumi,” Lloyd started, then stopped. She glanced up at him, innocence shining in her eyes. “…If I may, what did you discuss with my father last night?”

I didn’t expect to ever see you again, he didn’t add.

Her lips twitched up and Lloyd thought he saw something in her eyes that reminded him of her mischievousness that bordered on chaos that she’d had when they were younger.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I must ask that the Emperor and I’s discussion remain private.” She bowed her head. “But know that he and I reached a very pleasant understanding.”

A pleasant understanding with Lloyd’s father? Was she perhaps referring to another Emperor of the Empire of the Darkest Night? He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t breathe of word of his doubt. He was too busy being relieved.

“That’s…great to hear. I’m glad it all worked out. Has my father invited you to stay at the palace for the time being?”

“Until the Assembly of Governors that he has called in two day’s time.” Harumi’s eyes sparkled with humor. “I’m sure the governors of the furthest regions have forgotten their breaches in their rush to arrive before the meeting.”

Lloyd laughed and it was a laugh not weighed down by any burden. He let himself grin, he let himself joke back, he let his shoulders relax—his friend was alive and on good terms with his father! The Commander of the Central Plains was returning today! He’d be eighteen in a month, and despite the stress of his crowning, that meant he would finally be free to see the world!

Even with the sad loss of the Kuroganes at the back of his mind, his heart couldn’t help but feel lighter. It seemed, even in this unsure time, things might be looking up for him. It was quite the aggressive comparison to how he’d been feeling just this morning.

At one point during the meal, one of the kitchen servants scurried over and whispered something into Brad’s ear, who stood sentry the same way he had the day before. Brad nodded, whispering something back, and the kitchen servant bowed her head before hurrying back through the servant’s passage.

Brad stepped forward, leaning down to speak quietly for Lloyd and Lloyd alone. “Your Highness, they’re expecting the Commander’s arrival before noontime. The troops of the training ground and the Imperial Guard are already preparing their garrisons. Word from the training ground says that Governors Hikaru and Aiko have already reached Shadowspire, along with two men requesting an audience with the Emperor before the assembly. They should reach the palace shortly.”

Lloyd was mid-nod, preparing to thank his friend for keeping him updated on events on a day like this, when Harumi abruptly scowled across the table.

“We are in conversation, you knave. You dare interrupt the Prince and his guest? Know your place.”

Brad bowed his head, but Lloyd could see his fists ball at his sides.

“He was just keeping me informed,” Lloyd frowned at Harumi, confused. Had something else upset her and she was misplacing her anger? “It’s Brad.”

He said it like it was an explanation—because it should have been. It was the same Brad that he and Harumi that had played hide-and-seek with while their parents had worked away in their offices and grand rooms. Perhaps she didn’t recognize him.

But her apologetic eyes were only for Lloyd, not for Brad. “Oh, I apologize, Your Highness, I hadn’t realized he was on orders to relay the news to you. I humbly request your forgiveness for my misjudgment and I assure you it will not happen again.”

“…Sure,” Lloyd said awkwardly. “I mean, of course, I forgive you.”

He tried to glance over to meet Brad’s eye, but his friend’s head remained bowed as he stepped back away from the table.

Thankfully, the news gave him an excuse to finish off his meal and excuse himself rather quickly. He didn’t like feeling caught between a rock and a hard place—and upsetting either one of his friends in order to defend the other was certainly that sort of place. He left Lady Harumi to finish her meal, but she stood to bow to him briefly.

In the hall, Brad muttered Lloyd’s way. “I’m happy your friend is okay and all, but she is a piece of work.”

“She was raised differently, is all. It’s hard for her to understand.” Lloyd sighed through his nose.

“This is a strange world for the Prince of the Realm to be more humble than some politician’s daughter.”

Lloyd didn’t dispute him, just shrugged helplessly.

Dry clacking, followed by a squeaking groan of friction had Lloyd wincing and turning a stink-eye back at Chopov and Nuchal. Both loomed over him, but their jaws were opening and closing, then shifting side to side at each other. Their glowing blue eyes flickered, like floating spots of flame.

“What?” Lloyd asked, tired of their ominous speech. “What’re you guys talking about?”

Chopov, with more silver teeth and boney spikes protruding in a line from the front of his skull, clicked his teeth, then grunted hollowly, “Orders.”

Their voices echoed through their skulls. Nuchal, a piece of his cheekbone missing below his steel helm, added, “Commander returns.”

“…Uh-huh. Right. Let’s…go greet those two citizens.”

“Yeah, sounds good to me, Your Highness.” Brad hastily agreed, eyeing the skeletons.

Lloyd tried not to let his spine crawl at the mechanical footsteps of the skulkin marching after them. Lloyd tried not to give into hate often, but he did not like the way that skulkin voices sounded. It was like nails on a chalkboard with the way it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was a mercy that they could only speak a word or two at a time—he wasn’t sure his weak heart could handle an entire sentence of words gritted so hard they were painful to listen to.

It wasn’t the skulkin’s fault. After all they’d been raised for one thing—to follow orders into battle. They didn’t have brains of their own or the ability to read social cues. It was no wonder his father had stationed the Bone Army as far from Ninjago City as possible. Well, that, and the fact that Samukai, the only other being with sway over them, had the ability to create plans of his own.

The citizens that had requested an audience with Lloyd’s father were not just any citizens. Whereas the two governors that had rushed to heed his father’s call had already been lead to the estate rooms by the Imperial Guard, Lloyd stepped into the courtyard beyond the grand hall to find Cyrus Borg and Harish Julien waiting patiently on the dark cobblestone.

Brad coughed into his fist beside Lloyd, unable to contain his shock. Both of the men seemed startled by the two skulkin who barged through the grand doors after Lloyd, giants that dwarfed them all and stunk of violence.

Lloyd quickly smiled in greeting to lessen the blow. “Doctor Borg, Doctor Julien. What an honor it is to be acquainted with you.”

“The honor is all ours, Your Imperial Highness, truly. We are gracious beyond words to be greeted by the prince himself,” Dr. Borg replied for them.

Both men bowed. Well, Dr. Julien bowed low, in a smart, modern suit with a bowtie and a heavy trench coat to battle the chill of Shadowspire. He looked like quite the wizened old man, with uneven spectacles and thick white hair, pulled back with a heavy amount of gel.

Dr. Borg, confined to a hoverchair with a blanket over his legs, gave a shallow bow, but Lloyd saw no disrespect in it. The man also had an expensive suit on, along with a black haori that matched his silk tie. The man had glasses on, but his were modern frames, and though he was younger, likely in his forties, there was grey at the roots of his hair where a dye job was revealing itself.

“Please, rise,” Lloyd permitted. Both men did so. “And who would this young woman be?”

Behind Dr. Borg, what appeared to be an assistant with a grey suit on under a magenta-colored haori stood ready to aid. Her haori was beautiful—covered with a scene of flowers and singing birds. Lloyd was transfixed by it—there were few decorations of such hope within Shadowspire. But another reason for his distraction—the woman was very clearly an robot, with steel skin and synthetic grey curls.

A spinning circle of yellow light denoted her mechanical nature on each of her temples.

“This is Pixal, my android assistant,” Dr. Borg explained, gesturing towards her. “I sincerely apologize if her lack of greeting caused you any offense. Pixal, please show your respect to Prince Lloyd.”

The android nodded her head and stepped passed his hoverchair, bowing at a sharp ninety degree angle. Lloyd tried not to flinch at her aggressively quick movements.

“It is a pleasure to be in your company, Prince Lloyd, Son of the Emperor.”

“Of…Of course. Rise, my friend.”

She stood, folding her hands in front of her and taking her place by Dr. Borg’s side. Lloyd felt transfixed by her—he’d never seen a robot in person before, he’d only heard about them through the holoscreens he was approved to watch the news through. She moved so human-like, but her expression was so empty. It made him…sad. He dimly wondered if she was aware of her lack of autonomy.

“I have heard many things about you two gentlemen and your excellent work at Borg Technologies,” Lloyd asked, folding his hands together in his sleeves. “Ninjago City and the lives of it’s people have been much improved by the revolutionary technology of your company. What would two of the most famous men in Ninjago have to discuss with the Emperor today?”

The two doctors shared a look right in front of Lloyd.

Dr. Julien was the one to speak this time, his tone apologetic and his eyes humble. "Your Highness, we have sought an audience with His Majesty to discuss some pressing matters concerning the welfare of the realm."

Ah, vague. Political, no doubt.

"I see. I’m sorry about your long journey, but His Majesty is currently otherwise occupied. As you may have heard, the Empire was struck with quite a tragedy yesterday. If you’d like to give your concerns to me, I’d be happy to relay them to my father."

“Please, Your Highness, these matters cannot wait,” Dr. Borg said, urgency leading his hoverchair to inch forward as he leaned towards Lloyd. “This could affect the stability of the Empire.”

Lloyd wanted to grab the man by the shoulders and shake him. Can’t you see I’m trying to save your sorry hides?!

But the desperately pressing look on Dr. Borg’s face, and the clear concern in Dr. Julien’s downturned eyebrows told Lloyd that these two men were not going to quit so easily.

Lloyd couldn’t tell if they were stupid or brave. These two men, and Borg Technologies by extension, had been on a rebel watchlist for years, now, ever since the Shogun had begun his crusade in seriously uprooting the efforts against the Empire. Either they were unaware of this, which Lloyd doubted, or their concerns were enough for them to risk their own lives by their suspicious appearance in Shadowspire a mere day after the death of the most powerful governor in the land.

Lloyd exhaled, tilting his head towards Brad. “Alright. He will be informed right away, but I can’t guarantee he will see you. Are you sure you’d like to do this?”

“Yes,” Dr. Borg said firmly, ignoring Lloyd’s final offer of mercy. “Please, Your Highness.”

Brad nodded at Lloyd’s silent flick of the wrist and disappeared into the palace to relay the message.

“Join me,” Lloyd asked, gesturing toward the Grand Hall. “I am curious about the affairs of the city and I’m sure you would all like some rest after the trek up.”

The men bowed their heads and murmured their thanks again, following Lloyd. Two imperial guards opened the doors for them—both doctors paled and hurried faster when they were forced to step between Chopov and Nuchal’s burning gazes and massive battleaxes.

Dr. Julien, who seemed a bit less stressed than the sweating Dr. Borg, was happy to gush about his android technology the moment Lloyd admitted to this being his first meeting with one. He was very proud and the love that sparked in his eye when he spoke about his first robot coming online was like the love of a father towards his son.

“It was the greatest day in my career—no, my life,” Dr. Julien corrected, gesturing adamantly. His smile was warm and genuine. “I still believe that I have never quite met the feat that I created that day. Nothing will ever compare. Except for, perhaps, Pixal, here. She was my second design, and the first that we created together.”

Dr. Borg smiled tightly. “Yes, it was…exhilarating to meet a mind as genius as Dr. Julien’s. When we founded Borg Technologies together, we thought it was going to propel Ninjago into the next era.”

“I still believe it will,” Dr. Julien said, patting Dr. Borg’s arm. “And I know you still believe in it as well, my old friend.”

“Ah…yes, of course,” Dr. Borg mumbled.

“That’s really cool,” Lloyd said, grinning at the outpour of information he did not usually have access to. He quickly caught himself from his excitement. “I mean—It’s very impressive, what you’ve both done. And it’s fortunate that you were able to find such a good friend in each other.”

Dr. Julien nodded and smiled. Dr. Borg looked like a man on death row. Perhaps brave was the explanation, then—because Dr. Borg, at least, seemed completely aware of what them being in the palace meant. Lloyd felt bad for the man. They both seemed kind and genuine—more so than most of the politicians Lloyd spoke to.

Eventually, Brad returned to the Grand Hall, one of his father’s personal servants beside him. Both of them bowed toward the two men, the latter speaking in a monotone.

“The Emperor will receive you, now.”

Pixal stood along with Dr. Julien.

Dr. Julien reached down to grab Lloyd’s hand, bringing it up only to pat it in a grandfatherly-fashion.

His smile was knowing behind his spectacles. “You are more than what they say you are, Prince Lloyd. Thank you for being kind to two old men.”

“…Good luck with your council,” Lloyd managed to say.

His mouth felt dry watching them be lead toward the throne room. Brad sidled up to him.

“What’d they want?” Brad asked quietly, eyes flickering towards the imperial guards.

“No idea,” Lloyd muttered back.

“Think the Emperor will let them live?”

Lloyd thought. “…No idea.”

“Figures.”

Lloyd, despite having only just met the men, hoped his father’s merciful mood continued for their sakes.

-

The garrisons on the lower level were made up of fifteen thousand soldiers. Less than a half of them made up the training portion of the established base, the other half being the best and brightest of the Empire’s human forces. Because of the way the crack in the Veil spilled out directly into Ninjago City, the garrison housed below doubled as the greatest of honored training grounds, as well as an intimidation tactic to the city beyond. Ninjago City was large and sprawling, surrounded by and infested with Empire bases, but the threat of fifteen thousand of the most dangerous men the Empire hosted marching into the streets of the Capital Region kept many of the aristocrats in check. After all, the Capital Region was the most advanced, housed the most money, and the most political power a civilian could hold in Garmadon’s militarized empire. Governor Kurogane had once held that seat, along with Ninjago’s most powerful region, in the palm of his hand, kept tightly controlled.

Five other regions split the city by a grid. The city was so large, it would take dozens and dozens of miles to ever reach the outskirts. On those outskirts, further villages and towns clung to the edges of main civilization, becoming less and less common the further one got from the city. Instead, towers and coffee shops were replaced with farmlands. And the labor camps. But it took far fewer forces of the Empire to keep those areas under control, unlike Ninjago City itself. Wherein lay the reasoning for the largest division of the Empire’s soldiers to be based on the lower level of Shadowspire. That and, of course, the fact that the host could protect the palace in any times of crisis.

And ‘protect the palace’ of course meant ‘protect Prince Lloyd’ because the Emperor cared about one thing in the entire Realm and a sprawling palace and the grounds surrounding did not inspire love from him.

Lloyd knew all of this and he certainly was aware of just how large the base below his home was. After all, when he wandered beyond the Black Gates under watchful eyes, he could see the town-like military base spread out below him across many acres of land.

It was different to see the entire force amassed, standing in perfectly straight grids, every gaze unmoving, every uniform and armor piece pristine, every flag raised, every spot along the path up the hills filled by an endless honor guard of every rank of soldier. Each platoon was marked by new flags, all of them featuring the dark phoenix of the Emperor. The Black Gates were flung open, revealing all of this to Lloyd from the courtyard before the palace.

The courtyard itself was wide enough to house a village of it’s own, a massive flaming pit in the center of it casting the area in purple light. Above them, around the valley but below the blanket of the veil, electrical floating lights turned the entire valley into a morning unchanged but for the streak of light that split the veil through the crack.

The courtyard was filled with the Imperial Guard, shoulder to shoulder, their banners fluttering, their faces hidden by skeleton-like silver helms. Captain Hutchins of the Guard stood to the right of Lloyd, his hands snapped behind his back, a greyed beard and an eyepatch on his weathered face making quite the contrast to Lloyd’s youth and elegant dress. The Lord Chamberlain stood by the Captain’s side.

Lady Harumi, along with the two governors that had already arrived stood behind and to Lloyd’s left, each of them in their best traditional clothes, the colors of the Empire blanketing them. Dr. Borg and Dr. Julien, who had emerged from their meeting with defeat, had been placed alongside them. The palace servants were lined up behind the safe wall of the Imperial Guard, filling every corner of the courtyard.

Lloyd hadn’t been standing there long before a distant hum reached his ears. His face remained a mask of professionalism.

The Imperial Guard and the garrisons that lined the fortress walls before the Black Gates, remained steadfast, their eyes glued forward. Lloyd, the politicians, the doctors, and the servants were not bound by the same expectation and eyes began to look to the skies, scanning back and forth.

Thump…Thump…Thump…THUMP…THUMP…

The steady rhythm got louder and louder until it began to shake the very ground. Coming from the break in the mountains, above them and steadily approaching, a massive figure commanded the sky. The closer it got, the more obvious the shape of it became. Four legs the size of trucks swung heavy beneath a long body, covered in shimmering golden-red scales. Spiked protrusions were a richer red than blood, traveling down it’s nimble, powerful body. A head full of teeth akin to that of the Emperor’s crown, and curling horns weaved between escaping smoke from the beast’s nostrils. A flesh and blood dragon in Shadowspire.

Gasps echoed from the servants that had come to work at the palace within the last few months. There were unsteady feet, shifting nervousness.

The red dragon roared and that roar shook the foundations of the palace as it began to circle above it. Every enormous flap of it’s wings blew a strong current throughout the courtyard, ripping at banners and pulling at flags. Servants and politicians alike held down their flapping fabrics. Lloyd barely noticed, too enraptured by the beauty of the beast. The heat of the wind was a violent different to the chill of Shadowspire—it was like a small sun had arrived, gracing them all with the mercy of spring.

The dragon circled once, twice, before being carefully controlled in its decent. Closer, the metal armor on the head of the dragon became more obvious and created a more horrifying picture for any that would have the misfortune to be the beast’s enemy.

The dragon touched it’s feet down, causing servants and guards to stumble at the quake of the earth. It ROARED a final time, releasing boiling winds from it’s maw and blowing Lloyd’s skirts back, only the length of two men in front of him. The heavy presence of the dragon was beyond a stone held on one’s shoulders.

The dragon bowed its massive head after its landing, revealing the figure encased in black metal and leather that rode atop its arched neck.

The figure stood, leaping more than fifteen feet from the ground, and landing with a shudder, an aftershock to the quake the dragon had begun due to the weight of the armor. When the figure stood to his full height, there was not a word but terrifying that could be used to describe it. The armor was large, the design of it lined with unnecessarily sharp curves and edges only there to inspire fear. The helm was topped with curved horns, sharp and menacing, the mask over the face molded into the barred teeth of an oni. Even with the dragon present, already emitting a deep heat that was borderline suffocating, the power radiating off the figure was undeniable.

On his back, a sword that was much too long and should have been much to heavy for any man to wield presented a challenge to any fool. The red accents along the edges of the mat, void black made it look like it had already been soaked and stained in blood.

There was a sharp call from Captain Hutchins and the entirety of his guard snapped to a salute, fists banging into their chest plates. Lloyd saw Dr. Borg flinch out of the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care. He could barely keep himself from grinning.

With the sound of the salute, the heavy doors to the Grand Hall were pulled open by the intimidating figures of Chopov and Nuchal.

Lloyd’s father walked out, four arms clasped behind his back, dark robes swaying with a breeze that was not there.

The figure that had slipped off of the dragon was the first to fall to his knee. The dragon beside him lowered it’s car-sized head in a deep bow.

The rest of the courtyard followed suit, each guard, servant, and guest falling to their knee and lowering their head. The servants went the extra mile, going down to both knees and pressing their heads to the cobblestone. Lloyd was the only one who remained standing, side from the motionless skulkin, but he bowed at the waist.

“Ah, Commander, how fortunate it is to have you back in our midst. Your return is a beacon of hope amidst these troubling times.”

His father’s voice was a deep rumble that rolled across the courtyard and through the flaming pit unrestrained. His words gave Lloyd his unspoken permission to rise, so Lloyd straightened, taking his place beside his father. The commander now bowed before the both of them, his father dwarfing Lloyd with two feet between their heads.

The deep, rolling bass of the armored samurai met the Emperor’s baritone. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be in your presence once more. I have returned as swiftly as duty allowed.”

“Your dedication to your duty is commendable. However, as you know, there are matters that require our immediate attention.”

“Of course, my liege. I stand ready to serve in whatever capacity you require.”

“Then, rise, Shogun, Blazebringer, Commander of the Central Plains,” The Emperor commanded. “You have been called to your post.”

His father’s lower-most hand fell onto Lloyd’s shoulder, while the rest remained clutched behind his back. Lloyd glanced up, but his father’s expression was as unreadable as ever. The chill of his fingers seeped through Lloyd’s hanfu and he couldn’t help but wonder which post he was referring to.

The Shogun gracefully rose, a head and a half taller than Lloyd, forcing him to crane his head up. Between the bulk of the mask, black fangs protruding from the bared teeth of the oni below the hooked nose, and the black ridge curving over the shape of his eyebrows, the Shogun’s eyes were visible, the only part of him not completely covered. Those eyes did not stray from Lloyd’s father—Lloyd felt a twinge of disappointment when he was ignored, not that he was expecting anything more.

His father, quickly growing tired of the show, pulled his hand away from Lloyd and swept around, his robes spinning around him like a shadow come to life. The Shogun did not hesitate in following, his heavy boots echoing like death throes under his powerful stride.

The dragon suddenly began to unfurl it’s wings, reaching them high into the air and getting to its feet. The wings blotted out light, the raw size of them causing pressure to press down into the courtyard from even their slow movement. Lloyd knew to brace himself before the dragon abruptly pushed off, thundering the ground below as it flapped its massive wingspan and took to the sky. A few servants fell over, Governor Aiko stumbling into Dr. Julien.

The dragon roared one final time above before swooping behind the palace, toward the gardens.

White faces and shell-shocked looks remained, but Captain Hutchins quickly called to his men. “COMPANY, ATTENTION!”

Lloyd scooped up the length of his haori and hurried into the Grand Hall. Behind him, the Imperial Guard waited with baited breaths for the doors to close so that they may finally be dismissed back to their posts. Chopov and Nuchal entered after Lloyd, sealing the doors firmly behind them.

The sounds of the mute crowd were cut off, only the footsteps of Lloyd, his father, and the Shogun echoing within the vaulted arches of the Grand Hall.

“My son,” his father hummed, his hand finding Lloyd’s shoulder again. He could almost feel the vibration of the imposing Emperor’s voice as he spoke, his red eyes angled down to meet Lloyd’s. “I believe it is time for you to excuse yourself to your chambers. It seems the Shogun’s grand entrance gave you quite the fashion statement.”

The amusem*nt in his voice and the flick of clawed finger through Lloyd’s hair made his face flush. He quickly reached up and patted his head—sure enough, the hot wings of the dragon’s antics had blown his hair from his manicured curls. He groaned in annoyance, desperately trying to pat down the crazy strands he could feel sticking upright.

His father’s dismissal was lost on him. He frowned, lowering his hands. “But, father—”

“Lloyd,” his father warned. “I do not have time to humor your arguments today. You know very well the gravity of the current situation. Now, go make yourself presentable—more of those aristocrats will be arriving today and I trust that you will be there to greet them.”

Lloyd crossed his arms. “You’re just making me do it because you don’t want to.”

Eyes that had brought nations to their knees with a mere glare now rolled, his father letting out an exasperated grumble. “Lloyd.”

“Alright, alright,” Lloyd surrendered with a sigh. “I’ll go. But before I do—Father. I know you’re going to try to keep me out of this to protect me, and I appreciate it, I do, but…I’m going to be crowned your heir in less than a month. I’m almost eighteen already. You’re going to have to involve me eventually unless you’d like to have a poor excuse for a crown prince.”

His father raised his stark white eyebrows, the handsome dark face below his crown showing Lloyd an expression Lloyd rarely got from his father—something that had a hint of respect.

“Be that as it may,” his father conceded. “An important conversation between me and my commander is not something I can afford to walk you through at the moment.”

His father gestured down the hall with two of his hands, the sleeves of his over-decorated robes swaying without a breeze. Lloyd huffed in annoyance, but knew when he was toeing the line, so he gave in. He gave the Shogun one last glance.

The Shogun winked at him.

Lloyd suppressed a smile and turned away.

For the first time in five months, he was not shadowed by the colossal figures of Chopov and Nuchal as he marched down the hall. The palace felt so much emptier without the screaming servants and the crackling sound that the skulkin made when they laughed. First Master, that was the creepiest part! Finally, the burden of their presence had been lifted from Lloyd’s shoulders—and his father had acknowledged the truth in his words! Things were going well for him. Too well. Sure, there was the death of the governor and the possible escalation of rebel activity, but still…it felt like a shoe was waiting to drop.

Lloyd shook it off, letting himself enjoy light steps for once, as he passed the windows of the palace that let dim light stream in among the flickers of purple.

Brad caught him on the way to his room, his arms full of Lloyd’s freshly washed laundry. He was stumbling under the weight of it, but managed to bump Lloyd’s shoulder, a grin on his face.

Without any other servants around, Brad wasn’t shy about laughing at the state of Lloyd’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lloyd grumbled, his face going red as he tried in vain to hold his hair down. “Laugh it up. I am your future emperor, you know.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Brad chuckled, fumbling with Lloyd’s door to open it for him, full hands and all. “You’re right, Your Highness, I’m sure you’ll make that style all the rage.”

Lloyd scoffed. “I’ve got the door, out of the way.”

Brad frowned, genuinely frowned, but did as he was told. Lloyd opened the door and held it that way for Brad to go through with his armfuls of incredibly expensive fabrics. His friend disappeared into one of his closets while Lloyd gave himself a once-over in the mirror.

He slapped both his hands on his face. He couldn’t believe he’d stood by his father looking like this. Good thing it had only been the palace servants and a few politicians watching—this was embarrassing! He marched into his bathroom, grabbed a hair brush, and immediately began to claw the hardened gel from his curls with it.

“Oh, man,” Brad said hopelessly from behind him. “You’re gonna puff up again.”

“No, I am not,” Lloyd grunted.

It was already happening—where the gel was finally loosening, his curls were turning to anti-gravity frizz.

“Lloyd—”

“It’s fine, I’ll fix it!”

Brad was silent for a long moment, then said, “I’m so getting executed today.”

“No, you’re not!” Lloyd told him, glaring at his reflection in the mirror while still going aggressively at the hair gel.

Of course, his hair was passed saving by the time he was done. Brad was trying in vain to part it, but it would just shoot right back up at the wrong angles. His friend kept saying “it’s fine, we can totally fix this” and they did not, indeed, fix it. Eventually Lloyd groaned, tossed his brush onto his bedside table, and let himself fall face-first on his bed. He could admit when it was time to give up.

Brad left him to wallow, going to find Gene and the maids to save Lloyd from himself before his father called upon him and found himself embarrassed in front of all of his political-war-mongers because of his idiot son. Brad came back and patted Lloyd on the shoulder with sympathy, telling him Gene was hopefully on her way.

“Oh, thank the First Master,” Brad sighed when the knock on the door finally came. “Looks like I might live to see another day. Hey, you’ve gotta get up if you want your mess cleaned up.”

“I think shaving it would save us a lot of trouble,” Lloyd disagreed, his voice muffled in his pillows.

“That would ruin the pretty boy thing you’ve got going on!”

Lloyd didn’t respond, thankful that the outrageously fluffed pillows could hide his flushed face.

The door opened on the other side of the room. Lloyd did not immediately hear Gene’s sigh of disappointment at the sight of him.

Instead, he heard Brad stuttering. “Sh-Shogun! My Lord, I—this isn’t—”

Lloyd immediately jerked himself up and turned around, frantic.

In the doorway stood the six and a half foot champion, armored in black and red, the snarling mask of the oni firmly in place. His armor made him almost too wide to fit into the room without turning sideways. He made Brad look very small and very vulnerable standing before him. Even from across the room, a wave of heat made the constant chill of the palace fade away.

After getting a deadpan stare in response to his stuttering, Brad tutted nervously. “I’ll—Um, I’ll just go bring Gene by. For the—whole situation we have back there. Yeah. My Lord.”

Brad gave a shallow bow the Shogun’s way before expertly slipping around him, shooting Lloyd a wide-eyed look, and all but running down the hall.

Lloyd’s face was already splitting into a bright grin.

As Lloyd leapt off of his bed, the Shogun reached up under the chin of his helm to pull a latch. Then, the hand hooked over the mask on his face while the other hand slipped under the hood of the helm.

The face under the helm was much younger than many in Ninjago theorized—sharp featured, scarred, with thick brows and a clean-shaved jaw—and a growing smile.

“Hey, kiddo—oof!”

Lloyd threw his arms around the ridiculous armor and squeezed as tight as he could. He almost took the both of them to the ground in his haste, both trained martial artists stumbling to remain upright. Lloyd hardly cared.

He was laughed at, but arms came down, helm dropped onto his carpet, in order to hold him just as tightly. As a show of extra drama, those arms briefly lifted him off the ground, just so that Lloyd would begin elbowing in order to escape.

Lloyd pulled back, but clutching onto the shoulder straps of the armor, as if the man would try to escape. “What the hell took you so long?!”

“Whoa, who taught the future crown prince bad words? Wait, wait, don’t tell me—the Lord Chamberlain. I knew that guy was a bad influence.”

Lloyd groaned, “Kai!”

His friend laughed again, the kind of laugh that bled at the edges of relief and left a smile behind that hurt with how genuine it was. Lloyd’s red eyes reflected in fiery amber—Kai drew upright before him, at home in the armor that rightfully shouldn’t fit him. His gauntlets patted the prince’s arms in reassurance.

And, First Master, Lloyd couldn’t help the way that any worries he’d ever had melted away at the contact. It had been a long five months—the longest time that Kai had ever been sent away from Lloyd’s side. To have him back meant that nothing could go wrong in the world that couldn’t be handled. Kai was home.

“It’s good to see you too, Your Highness,” Kai smiled, the side of his lip pulled up by one of his old scars—the one that went all the way up his face, splitting his eyebrow, by some miracle sparing his eye. “How’s palace life been? Less dusty than the Sands, I’d bet.”

“Normal and boring—you know, mostly,” Lloyd pulled back to itch at his head. “Besides the Kuroganes being dead and, like…one assassin getting passed the Black Gate, but they were delt with so quickly, barely even worth mentioning, really…”

Kai’s expression abruptly dropped and he gave Lloyd a once-over with narrowed eyes. “Yeah, I heard. I could have burned the words into their skin and those idiots would manage to screw up every instruction I leave for them. At least it’s not so bad to have those bone-heads around after all, right?”

“Don’t make me admit that,” Lloyd sighed. “Father might take it as permission for them to follow me around even when you are here. I was going to go crazy with all of their chattering eventually!”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Kai agreed with a roll of his eyes. “Imagine being stuck in a whole camp of them. If I ever have to hear Skullian again, it’ll be too soon.”

Lloyd brightened at the mention of Kai’s station for the last few months. “You promised you’d tell me all about it when you got back. What was the Bone Army like? Did you see any serpentine? Is it true that the sun never sets over the Dune Sea? What about giant wyrms, did you fight any?”

“Whoa, slow your roll, kid.” Kai put up his hands placatingly. “I did promise and I will, as soon as we talk about more pressing matters.”

Lloyd quirked an eyebrow. He couldn’t be talking about whatever he and Lloyd’s father had discussed while Lloyd had been moping around, could he? Sure, he trusted Kai to let him in on it eventually—he always did—but so soon after he’d gotten back?

“Pressing matters?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Kai’s eyes dragged up to his rat’s nest. He waggled a finger above Lloyd’s face. “Who the hell gave you permission to do your own hair?”

Lloyd patted down his hair instinctually.

The prince glowered. “Maybe if the servants can’t fix it, I won’t have to show some codgey old governors to the extra bedchambers.”

“Foolproof. Absolutely foolproof,” Kai agreed sarcastically. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore—I need your help with something.”

“…My father told me I was on greeting duty.”

Kai scoffed and waved his hand in the air, dismissing the words. He stooped down to pick up the two piece of his helm, making a show of dusting them off, as if dust could survive all the cleanings of Lloyd’s bedchamber.

He put the helmet of the helm on, then slid the facemask up until it clicked into place. His eyes were still smiling, even when his voice modulator turned his voice into an uninterested monotone.

“You know the Emperor won’t mind as long as it means you stay by my side. Now change into something less fancy and meet me at the Keep. And maybe find a hat.”

Lloyd rolled his eyes fondly, but it was true—being wherever Kai was had always been the safest place in the world that Lloyd could be. Very few beings in the Realm of Ninjago could overcome the power of an elemental master, especially a master of one of the original four elements—air, water, earth, and in this case, fire. The only possible threats to Lloyd while Kai was in the room was a short list of four—his own father, and the unlikely possibility of the other three original elements being as well trained as Kai. Not even the skulkin, the dragon out back, nor the minor elemental masters could hope to overcome him.

When Kai was without his mask, he seemed so deceptively normal to Lloyd, but his reputation as the Shogun proved the power of a being that could not be denied. But Kai had never liked Lloyd knowing about the Shogun’s work, so Lloyd rarely went out of his way to find out the…well, the gory details. Because there was gore in that history. Kai didn’t even like Lloyd watching his father’s execution’s, despite them being mandatory viewing for Ninjago City.

When Lloyd was sure Kai was about to leave, his friend abruptly turned back, only to lock Lloyd in a headlock and dig the knuckles of his gauntlet into his hair.

“Ow!” Lloyd shoved at his arms, scowling. “Get off me! You’re a buffoon!”

Kai laughed once more, freeing him. His laugh sounded choked and metallic under the voice modulator, as if it hadn’t been designed to translate joy.

“Now you really do sound like the chamberlain!”

As much as Lloyd threw around insults, as soon as Kai was gone, he scrambled to change so that he could go and find him as soon as he could. He wasn’t sure what work he’d been referring to, but he did know that it often meant that they would be getting some training time in. Lloyd had been training in secret by himself for far too many months—he missed having a sparring partner and a teacher to give him new moves to practice.

He shoved clothes aside in his closet, grumbling at the weight and excess of them, before finally finding some linen harem pants. They were still covered in artful patterns that the usual citizen would find unnecessary, but it was as close to Lloyd got to traditional casual clothes. He had a few hoodies and sweatpants hidden along the top of his closets, but those were supposedly for when he was in private only. He managed to find one of his only white T-shirts, figuring he could get away with wearing it as long as he threw a shorter haori on top of it.

Most of his haori were silk, too, but he had one of linen reserved for when he trained so that he could sweat in it—it was the only non-imperial color in his closet because Kai had brought it back from one of his missions for him.

He hadn’t even pulled his arms all the way through the sleeves before he was stumbling out the door, boots wrapped messily. At last minute, he shoved his arm into his chest of many, many headpieces—his hand came up with a beanie.

When he sped-walked through the halls, there was no one following him. Not skeletons, not servants, not his father. People barely even noticed him. A few recognized him, of course, and offered him bows, but most servants were rushing around, busy preparing for the arrival of the remaining governors and any other guests the assembly would bring. To those in a hurry, Lloyd just looked like a messenger boy or a stable hand, wearing the wrong day’s uniform.

The anonymity gave him a wonderful sense of peace and calm despite the chaos around the palace. Yet another reason why he’d missed what freedoms he had when the Commander of the Central Plains was housed in Shadowspire. There was a time when that was not so rare—but that was before. Before he’d gained the title that promoted him to have the second highest authority in the empire, to become responsible of every human troop that wore imperial colors. Before, when he’d just been the Prince’s bodyguard. Before, when it had just been him and Lloyd against the world.

Before, when Lloyd had been too young to know of all the tragedies and horror that spread across the land. Before, when Lloyd had been too young to even know of the whole world he was being protected from.

The Keep was a short hike off of the garden, technically outside the walls of the fortress and the Black Gate, but it mattered little—the short trek was up stone steps that had been carved out of the very mountain, and on the other side of the rope supports, there was sheer cliff. The palace had been placed against the very walls of the Veil to offer the best protection at it’s back. The Keep had been placed just above the gardens, up the mountain a ways, and no one would be able to reach it without going through the Gate, fighting through the palace, making their way through the gardens, and going single file up the steps. It was the most out of the way, and the most private, place in Shadowspire.

It also happened to belong to the Shogun, no one being allowed in that he did not allow in. And no one dared go against the Shogun’s wishes. Some believed it to be even worse than going against the Emperor’s—because at least Lloyd’s father had a political agenda and liked to amuse himself with those under him. If one got on the Shogun’s bad side…well, it didn’t happen often, was all Lloyd would say. Kai was fair, but he didn't tolerate inefficiency.

Lloyd didn’t bother knocking before pushing open one of the heavy metal gates of the Keep, the wind whistling, higher up that he was.

Inside, the Keep resembled the coliseums of old, circular shaped, with an open maw of air above to allow easy access. It could be mistaken for the fighting pit in the garrison below—if not for the piles and piles of gold laying around. And, of course, the massive dragon that filled out half the space.

The noises of the dragon’s breathing and a snort echoed around the circular space. It looked even more beautiful in the Keep—the Dragon’s Keep—because here, in the Shogun’s domain, the braziers that hung under the arches on every side were not lit with oni fire—rather it was wholly natural, smoke-belching, red and orange tongues of flame.

Lloyd had missed this, too. In the Dragon’s Keep, he felt like he could breathe.

“Heads up!”

Lloyd turned, his arms shooting up to catch the staff that was thrown at him.

Kai grinned, a staff in his own hands. “Nice reflexes, greenie.”

Lloyd looked down at his colored haori, shrugging. “It was the only thing I had that wasn’t silk.”

“Good, because the chamberlain would definitely hand my ass to me if you were wearing anything of your precious closet to do this.”

Kai had changed as well, out of his bulky metal samurai armor and into a gi, lighter and with studded leather armor protecting him. Even in his own Dragon’s Keep, it seemed, he still had to be ready. He’d also lost almost half a foot in height and half of the size his show armor otherwise gave him—but Lloyd had used ‘Kai wearing heels’ jokes to death, so he didn’t bother to mention it this time around.

Kai looked so much more like himself, now, his hair somehow done in the five seconds they’d been apart, dark brown gelled up and back to graze the back of his collar. There was tension below the surface, but Lloyd couldn’t be surprised—a lot was going on.

Kai held up his staff, turning it in his hands to show—the wide mop-brush at the end of it.

Lloyd frowned and lifted his staff—which was actually a wide broom, dripping with soap and water from a nearby basin.

Lloyd groaned. “I thought we were going to train. I’ve been practicing every day!”

“I know you’ve been practicing every day,” Kai turned away from Lloyd, dipping his tough-bristled broom into the basin. Soap suds sloshed over the edge. “But Dreadmaw doesn’t get a bath every day and she’s got sand between her scales. Don’t you, girl?”

The house-sized dragon, which Lloyd could now see was glistening along her shoulder, lay across the ground and huffed in agreement. Smoke drifted from her nostrils.

Kai sighed dramatically. “Oh, I know, you weren’t made for that damn desert, huh?”

Lloyd thought about arguing—but instead he just huffed. Because honestly? This was his idea of fun. While Kai was away, everyone followed the orders of Lloyd’s father to the letter and Lloyd was never allowed to do physical labor or even basic physical training to keep his health for fear of him getting hurt. So he’d take anything—even cleaning a dragon that, frankly, smelled like a burning barn.

Dreadmaw rumbled in appreciation when Lloyd slapped the brush on her opposite shoulder and began to scrub. She tilted her head his way and closed her eyes nice and slow, like a satisfied cat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lloyd grumbled. “You’re welcome.”

“So, the Dune Sea!” Kai’s voice shouted from the other side of the dragon. “Big! Lots of dunes. Pretty lame overall. Didn’t see any massive worms—jury’s still out about whether or not those exist. I did see a few serpentine prisoners, but no battles. I was only down there to deal with Samukai’s dragon problem.”

“Dragon problem?”

“Those bone-heads let a couple of their pack mules escape. It took me a while to track them down to some old serpentine caverns. Dragons that can fly don’t leave much in the way of trails to follow, believe it or not.”

Lloyd moved on to scrubbing the underside of Dreadmaw’s wing. The dragon purred, her body shifting to allow him more access. Lloyd quickly began to sweat—the dragon’s body heat was incredibly suffocating. In fact, her scales steamed every time Lloyd’s brush came back with fresh water. He was careful not to touch her—skin to scale contact could leave stinging superficial burns within a few seconds, as he’d found out the hard way a long time ago.

“So, did you bring them back, or what?” Lloyd asked.

Kai was quiet for a few seconds. Lloyd wondered if Dreadmaw’s breathing was too loud. She lowered her head to the ground, closing her eyes, still holding the wing up above Lloyd’s head.

“No,” Kai eventually said. “They didn’t make it. Samukai and his bones had worked them to death—they’d probably escaped because they were so desperate for food. They’d already died by the time I’d found them.”

“Oh.”

Dreadmaw rumbled deep in her throat, this one sounding a little more raw, the dragon equivalent to a whine. At the sad noise, Lloyd could hear Kai patting the scales of her neck on the other side of the heavy body.

“I know, baby, I know,” the man consoled her. “Don’t worry, I would never let that happen to you. You want a treat? Let’s get you a treat.”

Lloyd gave Dreadmaw extra scrubs where she liked it, his gut dropping while he thought about the story. He couldn’t imagine anyone treating such majestic creatures so badly. Sure, the species as a whole was an enemy to the empire and often the most dangerous threats to it’s people—but those under the empire’s servitude should be honored.

Dragons were so incredible—especially this one, that Lloyd had named when he’d been thirteen, the day that Kai had suddenly come home with the only dragon Lloyd had ever seen.

Kai pulled open one of the baskets near the gate that stunk of fresh meat. He pulled out a long, heavy strip of—something or another—and tossed it high into the air. Dreadmaw’s muscled body abruptly sprang up, jaw snapping around the meat. Lloyd flinched, but the dragon had been careful to avoid him before laying back down with a contented purr.

“Aw, you are such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” Kai said, draping himself over Dreadmaw’s snout and hugging her face. “The best dragon in the whole world, yes you are.”

Dreadmaw preened under the attention, opening her jaws and letting out a large puff. Smoke exploded out from between her teeth, surrounding her face and Kai in a black cloud. When it drifted and cleared, Kai was not at all bothered, rubbing Dreadmaw’s forehead.

Lloyd wiped sweat from his face, leaning against his broom to give himself a break. “Do you two need the room?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, he’s just jealous,” Kai assured her, patting the dragon under the chin. The dragon rumbled in agreement. Lloyd moaned at their ridiculous cuddling.

“I could be training right now,” he sighed.

Kai snorted, going back to the brush. “What are you in such a hurry to train for, kid? Thinking about challenging the Pit or something?”

“No…I just…want to be ready, I guess. For the real world. If I could just show my father how well I can fight, then maybe he won’t be so worried. Maybe I won’t have to fight him so hard and after my coronation…he’d just have to let me go.”

Kai, scrubbing Dreadmaw’s neck, frowned over her head. “Lloyd, you know that you can’t tell him. There’s a reason he never had you trained.”

“Yeah, I know. For my own protection!” Lloyd scoffed. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Training me would protect me more than keeping me wrapped up in cushions for the rest of my life! My father was brilliant enough to conquer all of Ninjago—but he can’t see that? I just—I’ll never understand!”

Kai hummed. Dreadmaw thankfully didn’t seem to mind the way that Lloyd’s scrubbing suddenly became more aggressive. Her body shimmied.

“Sometimes his love for you blinds him, I think,” Kai said, voice more somber than before.

Lloyd…felt some of the frustration melt down. “I know. Ugh, I know, it’s just…is this going to be my life forever? Is the Veil all I will ever know? It’s…I can’t imagine anything worse.”

His words echoed off the Keep walls before dissipating into silence.

The two of them worked down Dreadmaw’s back—Kai climbing up top and polishing her spines—Lloyd putting on goggles, a metal-working mask, with a pick in hand and cleaning between her teeth. She growled whenever he bit too hard into her gums, fire sparking at the back of her gaping throat. Kai entertained all of his questions about the Skulkin Army. Mostly, Kai complained about the fact that all they had were dry, non-perishable reserves for food because they didn’t eat.

He also complained about Commander Samukai. Commander Samukai was not a fan of the Shogun. Just twenty years ago, Samukai was Emperor Garmadon’s right-hand-man in all respects before rumors of him considering a coup reached Lloyd’s father. If he were anyone else, the Emperor would have immediately slain him, but as it was, Samukai was an irreplaceable general—the only skeleton with intelligence. So Garmadon sent him on the never ending quest in the south—and a few years later, the Shogun filled Samukai’s role as the Emperor’s most trusted man.

Of the three Great Commanders, Samukai and the Shogun certainly had the most bad blood. But that was the reason all three commanders had jurisdiction as far as possible from one another—one covering the Northern Regions, watching the Realm portal—one on the Central Plains, keeping Ninjago’s population in line—and one on the South, keeping the snakes at bay.

At one point, while Lloyd was losing eyebrow hairs in Dreadmaw’s mouth, a nervous knock echoed from the gates.

Kai, straddling Dreadmaw’s tail backwards to get between the smaller scales, barked, “You want to get that?”

Lloyd rolled his eyes, but pulled out of the dragon’s mouth and flipped up the metal visor. He went and pulled open one of the gates, still holding the pick and decked out in blacksmithing gear.

The courier hesitated, seeing Lloyd instead of Kai, then quickly bowed low. “Your Highness, I was expecting the Shogun. I have an urgent message to deliver from the Emperor.”

The fact that the man didn’t seem nervous suggested he was one of the Emperor’s long-served aids.

Lloyd pulled the gate open further, turning his head back. “It’s for you!”

Had they been alone, Kai likely would have cursed and casually allowed himself to struggle. As it was, he straightened in the presence of a servant, rolling gracefully from Dreadmaw’s tail and walking over with a high chin. His expression could have been carved from stone.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Kai nodded at Lloyd, clearly dismissing him as he took the door from Lloyd and opened it wider.

Lloyd glowered a little—people still keeping him out of the loop—but didn’t challenge his authority in front of one of his father’s servants. He flipped his visor back down as he walked and tapped Dreadmaw’s snout to get her to open back up.

He strained to hear what was discussed, but Kai head leaned down so that the servant could speak closely to his ear. Something Lloyd’s father likely didn’t want him to know.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kai nodded, expression remaining flat and professional. With the mask of the Shogun on, he looked ten years older than the Kai that had been joking with Lloyd not a moment ago.

The courier didn’t stay long. Kai’s expression had cleared by the time he turned back to Lloyd.

Lloyd’s voice reverberated under the metal mask. “What did my father have to say?”

“Work-related things.” Kai shrugged, strategically not looking Lloyd’s way before going back towards Dreadmaw’s tail.

“You’re worse than him sometimes, you know that? You promised that you wouldn’t keep me in the dark anymore. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” Kai muttered, his voice still loud in the echoing space, even when he spoke softly.

Lloyd frowned and took the shield all the way off his face. His hair had been properly tamped down by the sweat, of all things, but he was also covered in soot and suds, now. He tossed the mask away, pulled the goggles up onto his forehead, and ducked under Dreadmaw’s massive wing. She lifted it a bit for him.

Kai sat with his legs crossed on the ground, a metal sponge shedding in his hand as he scrubbed at the base of Dreadmaw’s longest tail spines. The metal was visibly softening under the heat of both the dragon and the elemental master’s hand. Kai undoubtably noticed Lloyd standing there, but he didn’t look up.

“Do you?” Lloyd asked. His tone was more gentle than he’d meant—he couldn’t be mad at Kai when he knew all he ever did was to protect Lloyd. “Because it seems like you’re doing the same thing you’ve always done. You said yourself that I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t berate my father’s paranoia one moment and keep me out of important business the next. So just—tell me. Please.”

Knowing about anything his father or Kai deemed as dangerous was like pulling teeth.

But comparing Kai to his father always seemed to do the trick. Sure, it was a low blow on Lloyd’s part—but he would do what he had to in order to be involved.

He saw Kai’s jaw clench, like he expected, and the annoyed glance up at Lloyd. Lloyd folded his arms.

“Alright, I see your point,” Kai gritted. He gave a weary look towards the gates, where the messenger had left, then sighed. “…Tomorrow, the Empire is going to announce that they’ve found the man guilty of murdering Governor Kurogane and his wife. Then, they’re going to sentence him to die.”

“They’ve found the assassin?!”

Kai snorted. “I doubt it, but I wasn’t told. It’s more likely that the Emperor has found someone convenient to blame.”

“Where is the justice in that? The real killer will escape.” Lloyd’s lips twitched down.

Kai paused what he was doing to raise a dry eyebrow up at Lloyd. “…That’s true.”

“The reason the executions happen…they’re to bring those who deserve it to justice. That’s the whole point. Right? That’s what—That’s what you told me.”

“Yeah,” Kai said. He looked old, again. “That’s what I told you when you were twelve years old and you asked me why your father made every man, woman, and child in Ninjago watch his enemies be beheaded on live TV. You don’t want to be treated like a kid anymore? Alright. Half of the people put on that chopping block never did anything wrong. Some of them even tried to help people. But your father didn’t like them, so they became examples. That fear has kept people from speaking out against the Emperor for decades. That’s why the executions happen. The Empire…it doesn’t care about justice. Not any more than Garmadon himself does.”

Lloyd opened his mouth to deny it, but his throat was too dry to form words. He glared at Kai, as if that would make him change his mind, but Kai just gave him a passive look, waiting for Lloyd.

Lloyd turned away, snapping his jaw shut and grinding his teeth together. He wasn’t blind—he knew his father cared little for something as trivial to him as ‘justice.’ But the Empire wasn’t only Lloyd’s father—the Empire was made up of so many people, good people, like Governor Kurogane and Brad and the Lord Chamberlain and Kai. Sure, there were corrupt politicians and military leaders that went off the right path, but they were the minority. They had to be. Because if they weren’t, then that would mean that everything was bad. But it just…wasn’t. Lloyd had seen the good. So it couldn’t be.

Lloyd’s shoulders slumped in defeat. It couldn’t be—but what did he know? He’d never been in that world, the one that mattered. In truth…he had no idea what the Empire was outside of his safe, peaceful Veils.

He turned back to Kai. “But you do.”

“I do…?” Kai asked, patient for Lloyd.

“You care about justice,” Lloyd told him firmly. “I know you do.”

Kai held the metal sponge between both of his hands in his lap. Sitting on the ground the way he was, without his menacing armor, he looked small. Lloyd had never thought Kai had looked small before. Kai was always the shining sun looking down on Lloyd, providing him with hope, from the day that they had met.

He’d always been an insurmountable being, more kind than Lloyd could ever be, stronger than Lloyd could ever be, more patient, more just, more skilled. That pedestal had cracked more and more as Lloyd had grown older.

Now, pieces were chipping free. This was in no small part because of the bone-tired expression Kai had on his face. Lloyd suddenly recalled that expression getting engraved deeper and deeper onto his friend’s face for years. Now, it seemed to touch his very soul.

“Maybe I do,” Kai exhaled. “But that doesn’t matter. Everyone in the Empire is a servant—myself included. I may get more privileges, have a high title, but in the end, I am no different than the lowest of lives filling the labor camps.”

“That’s not true.” Lloyd sat down next to him. “You are not just a servant. You’re my family.”

Kai smiled at his words, but the expression hadn’t left him, so the smile looked hollow.

“I know, kiddo.” He draped an arm across Lloyd’s thin shoulders, only to ruffle his greasy hair. “I know. I love you, too. What do you say we finish up here, huh? That ten hour dragon flight is starting to make my legs sore.”

Dreadmaw rumbled in agreement, thwapping her tail twice against the ground beside them, making sparks burst against the stone. Kai flicked a finger and the sparks changed trajectory, like they’d bounced off an invisible wall before dissipating. Lloyd’s linen pants did not light on fire and he gave Kai a dry ‘thanks.’

-

The next morning, Lloyd flung open his bedchamber door and ran right into a massive skulkin-brand shield. Lloyd yelped, grabbing at his forehead, where it was now throbbing in pain.

Chopov and Nuchal both turned their swirling blue orbs on him and Lloyd got the distinct feeling that they thought he was stupid.

He groaned. “Not you two again.”

Brad was on the other side of the two spiney guards, his fist raised and poised to knock on the doors that Lloyd had pulled out from under him. Like the day before, he was in his expensive servant’s dress—the same way that Lloyd was, once again, put through the whole extra dress routine by the maids.

After all, the Governor’s Assembly was tomorrow, and tonight would be a grand feast to welcome them all to the palace before the long, dreary meetings that would go on the next day. The palace had to be at it’s best.

“You Highness.” Brad’s eyebrows were drawn together, his lips pursed. “I was just about to inform you that there is only a few minutes until the broadcast. The governors that have arrived have already gathered in the War Room and morning meal has been taken there. Lady Harumi will be joining them as well.”

The idea of trying to eat food while viewing the mandated television made Lloyd sick to his stomach.

He gave Brad a firm nod, his voice as strong. “Take me there.”

He ignored the stinging throb in his head all the way to his father’s war room. It would be where all discussions were held in the upcoming days, likely including who would be replacing Governor Kurogane and how to fix the vacuums of power that would crop up as a result.

Today, it would serve as a viewing room, as the War Room held the only holoscreen within the palace. Borg Tech-created, of course, though his father would never admit it aloud.

As Brad had promised, the governors who had arrived early had already taken their seats around the lengthy table, their families safety sheltered back in their offered bedchambers. It seemed that eight of the ten had made it there—each man more intimidating as the next, from their reputation, if not their appearances.

Governor Hikaru, Governor Aiko, Governor Zenji, Governor Raiden, and Governor Kaijiro. The living governors that were responsible for the regions that contained Ninjago City. The city itself contained close to three billion people, so individually, the governors had authority over hundreds of millions of lives. Each region, of course, had imperial control trickling further down the government to keep a handle on so many people and their needs.

Governor Jigoku and Governor Izanagi were from the outer regions, though they’d come from opposite sides of the city. They presided over the farmers and the villages—but most notably, the labor camps.

The two remaining governors of the outer regions had yet to arrive. Honestly, it was impressive that this many governors had made it within a day. Or perhaps rather than impressive, it was informing. They’d done everything in their power to keep themselves in the good will of Lloyd’s father.

Every one of them, six powerful men and two powerful women, stood at Lloyd’s arrival. The scrape of a chair near the front followed Lady Harumi getting to her feet, as well. They all bowed low, murmuring their greetings.

Lloyd dismissed them to be at ease. He didn’t grace any with his eye contact—he kept his eyes glued to Harumi, in order to avoid it. She smiled at him and offered the chair next to her, the one closest to the holoscreen, which was already lighting up the room with it’s feed. Lloyd numbly sat next to her. Those in the room did not speak casually. A few of the governors muttered between one another, but being loud in the calm felt wrong.

On the screen, there was a scene that Lloyd had seen a few times in the past. Despite Kai’s insistence that he avoid watching, he’d pressed enough to see them, especially as he’d gotten older. The first time, though, he had been twelve years old. He’d been so desperately curious about Kai’s firm disapproval of something that seemed to be consumed by every person in Ninjago, so he’d stolen a guard’s phone and tuned in when the time came.

Like that day, the screen showed the front of Imperial City Centre, the grandest building in Ninjago, and Governor Kurogane’s old office. It stood in the center of the city, as far as Lloyd knew, and it was quite the architecture feat. A giant statue of Lloyd’s own father hovered in front of the building, the main focus in the background of the platform. The platform itself was a permanent fixture, as was the executioner's block that was erected in the center of it. There was little else on the platform aside from the chains in front of the block. The block had never been cleaned—while it had been the only thing made of white stone before a building of greys, it had been stained long ago. Blood had seeped into the rock. The entire face of it was browned, like it had rusted.

Today, the platform was populated by a line of imperial guards in their plate mail, beside a squad of imperial troopers—the casual enforcers of the empire. The angle prevented television viewers from seeing, but the noise of the large crowd gathered in person could be heard.

The second in command of the Capital Region, Lieutenant Governor Clouse, stood to the right of the block, a standing microphone before him. Large flags of the empire circled the statue in the background, flapping harshly in the wind. Over the quiet murmur of the crowd, their snapped sounded violent.

Beside the Lieutenant Governor, the Shogun stood, taller than any other on stage, looking almost inhuman within the morbidly still armor. The blade on his back that extended above his shoulder glinted in the mid-morning sun.

Lieutenant Governor Clouse folded his hands behind him as he spoke, his voice velvety and distinctly upper-city Ninjago.

“Loyal subjects of the Empire…today, as we gather in this solemn assembly, we do so with heavy hearts and a deep sense of duty to our beloved Empire. Not only do we stand to witness the enforcement of justice, but also to honor the memory of Governor Tenno Kurogane. Our beloved Empire has suffered a grievous loss. May he always rest in our hearts and in the next life, along with his wife, Carnia Kurogane. Allow me to be the one to inform you that their deaths were no accident. As many have speculated, this cowardly act of senseless violence was enacted by the rebellion against the Empire.”

Behind the Lieutenant General, shifting began between the imperial troopers and a group of them split off, a form stumbled between them. They weren’t quite visible—but Lloyd thought he saw a flash of a white lab coat.

“Taking the life of our esteemed governor was an attack not only on one individual but on the people of the Empire themselves. It was an affront to the principles of order and stability that we hold dear. Let it be known that the spirit of our Empire cannot be broken by the actions of a few misguided individuals. As we prepare to carry out the sentence of the rebel who made this heinous act possible, let us do so with a solemn determination to uphold the rule of law. Let us show the world that justice will always prevail, no matter the challenges we face.”

The Lieutenant Governor opened his jacket and pulled out an official scroll. He unrolled it, holding the top and bottom, where the wooden dowels were tipped with silver grips.

From it, Clouse read the list of transgressions. “You have been found guilty of conspiracy against the Empire, incitement of rebellion and insurrection, subversion of imperial authority, and the assassination of an imperial official. Doctor Harish Julien, on account of high treason, you are herby sentenced to death by beheading.”

Clouse folded the scroll and stepped back.

Lloyd flinched when the imperial troopers parted to reveal the very man Lloyd had met the day before. His hair was even more out of control and his spectacles were bent, one of the glasses shattered. It seemed to have shattered directly into his eye—which was now swelled shut, blood splattered over his pale face. Evidence of a beating was clear, from the bruises to the limp in his walk. He was wearing a lab coat, like he’d been taken straight from his workspace.

The man stumbled forward at a push from the troopers, but when he regained his footing, he held his chin high in defiance. Even when he was pushed down onto his knees, his wrists forced into the chains, spreading his arms around the block.

The man was not given any last words—they never were. But the steely gaze in his one remaining eye spoke louder than Clouse ever could. Lloyd did not know if what they were saying was true about the doctor—the man that had held Lloyd’s hand and told him he was a nice boy—but Lloyd saw that the rebellion in his eyes were true. This was not a man who was dying a worthless, forgettable death. This was a man who could be a martyr.

He did not flinch, as many had before, nor did he beg, when the Shogun moved forward. The large sword at his back was drawn with an ominous hiss of metal. Every step of his had the troopers shifting further away.

Dr. Julien did not turn away or squeeze his eyes shut. He looked directly towards the camera that was projecting these images on every screen in Ninjago.

The Shogun’s sword swung down, heavy and true. It took one swing and a brief spurt of red—the blade digging a groove into the block beneath.

The head dropped onto the stone platform before the executioner's block. The spectacles fell away, the other side shattering. Fresh red seeped out and pooled before beginning to drip down the block—staining it anew.

Lloyd had to look away. His gaze fell upon Harumi, next to him, as he attempted to keep his expression even in front of all of the governors. They were all stone-faced along the table behind him.

But Harumi’s lips were curled up in a smile.

“Let this execution stand as a testament to the strength of our empire and the consequences of betrayal. To those who would dare to rebel or sympathize with our enemies, know this: your actions will not be tolerated. The empire's reach is long, and our resolve is unyielding. We will root out dissent wherever it may hide, and we will crush it without mercy. May our unity remain unshakeable as we forge ahead. Long live the Empire!”

The crowd outside the Imperial Centre repeated the cheer, but it sounded off-key, wrong. The proud, confident voices of the governors and Harumi echoing it within the room made up for any weakness outside.

“Long live the Empire!”