• Shadows embraced the entire outskirts of Tanjerine, causing all light to dissipate as night triumphed over day. Rain began to fall from the heavens and the rhythmic patter echoed throughout the darkness; thunder rolled in the distance. A silhouetted figure bowed his head in attempt of shielding his face from the rapidly intensifying deluge.
    This form belonged to the frazzled king of Tanjerine, Edmund Toro.
    His violet hair hung about his damp face, unable to conceal his severe stare provided by his vibrant orange eyes. His slight physique shivered violently, due to the icy rainwater, as he progressed onward to the gigantic gates of the city. He tugged at his azure cloak, hoping that the gesture would force the chills within his frigid body to cede.
    He swiftly approached the enormous portal of Tanjerine, only to be greeted quietly by a familiar voice.
    “Is that you, my lord?” it whispered.
    Edmund inched closer to the source of sound while answering, “Yes, um… Symon, where are you?”
    Symon chuckled, remaining hidden.
    “Don’t play games with me, Symon… This is urgent,” Edmund pleaded.
    Reluctantly, Symon abandoned his obscured post, stepping out into the dim moonlight. “As you wish, your majesty. What news do you bring?”
    Edmund turned to his companion, grabbed at his arm, and led Symon toward Tanjerine’s gate. “We should speak in safety. I have grave news,” the weary king replied solemnly.
    The twosome stealthily entered the city; Symon’s mood was quickly deteriorating, unable to believe that the worst possibility had occurred.
    *
    “You can’t be serious,” Symon choked out.
    He was seated at a small table; his elbows were placed upon its surface and his hands cradled his tanned, angular face. His expression was wrought with worry.
    Edmund sat opposite of him, equally disturbed. “I’m afraid I am… Burgandian troops are surrounding the city as we speak. There’s nothing we can do to stop them.”
    Symon refused to admit defeat, formulating a plan subconsciously, for it was only second nature. “There’s got to be something. We could easily retaliate before our enemy rallies up enough men-”
    “That’s just it… They already have a massive amount of soldiers aboard those ships… At best, we have a fourth of their army. Physical resistance would be suicide.”
    Symon’s body was rigidly motionless as his bright, caramel eyes surveyed Edmund’s features. “You don’t honestly think that they’ll leave civilians be if we surrender peacefully?”
    Edmund paused, understanding the situation. “You have a good point…” he said bleakly. “Our last skirmish with Burgandy left the city in ruin and all able bodies were enslaved. I don’t want that to happen once more.”
    “Then don’t let it. Listen,” Symon began, “I’ll try and handle this for you. Permit me to speak with their leader… That will buy you some time to evacuate all citizens.”
    “That’s ridiculous… The Burgandian forces would never let you get within two hundred yards of their general. You’ll be killed.” Edmund tried to look his friend in the eye, but Symon’s long, dark, unruly hair acted as a curtain.
    “I might be,” Symon exhaled. “I’m not a fan of this option, but it seems to be the only one. We need a distraction to keep the Burgandians occupied,” he replied in a monotone voice, his face still masked by his ebony locks.
    Edmund sported a melancholy frown. “We have no other choice. I’ll begin extracting all those inside the city tonight. You are to keep watch, ensuring that the enemy doesn’t advance on foot. They haven’t reached the shore yet, so that gives us a few hours.”
    “Where will you take the people of Tanjerine?” Symon asked while brushing back his lengthy bangs.
    “The mountains… It seems to be the only neutral area left in Mayvel.”
    Symon appraised the king skeptically. “The mountains? That’s one of the most dangerous places to go! It would be better to enslave the population, you’ll lose more on your ludicrous expedition,” he grumbled, arms crossed upon his toned chest.
    “They’ll be safe in the Sierran Mountain Range,” Edmund assured. “You underestimate me, my friend.”
    “Alright. Well, I’d better assume my duty,” Symon sighed as he rose from the chair. “I bid you good luck, my lord. We’re attempting an incredibly risky escapade, and I want nothing more than your safety, your highness.”
    “Symon,” Edmund called out, his friend about to exit the faintly lit room, “use caution. Your objective is much more hazardous than mine. Stay alive, that’s an order!”
    Symon forced a grin, facing away from the king. “I’ll do my best, sir.”