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[indent]Days passed, weeks passed, or so it seemed. Within a new world, time cycled differently than it did on earth. But being locked away from the outside permitted little experience and exploration. Perhaps it was for their own good. Yet, this routine of waiting for an audience with the government that seemed to run galaxies, that waiting had finally came to an end. Because one day they did not wake up inside a cozy palace surrounded by islands of snow, instead they found themselves seated aboard a train that floated among a beam of light soaring through the sky. The ability of the train to do so was no surprise to the prisoners, similar technology had been created on earth. Yet that train trailed a path allowing for the view of a stone tower... taking them to that stone tower.

It was Mount Olympus, throne room of the gods, or so it seemed. Arranged in semi-circle were the five beings, each a single representation compacted into one monarch. 

That was the Principality of Galaxies. 

And this [i]is[/i] real.

No more theories and suspicion of a sociological experiment. No more thoughts and suggestions that those so-called "Skull-men" could be men in costumes. None of that could come anymore. Even the word [i]alien[/i] was best not used if these creatures were just as living, breathing, and thinking as they are. 

The thrones were elevated on a curved platform and behind each throne was a mural. These murals illustrated a race's significance. Whether that species was famed for breeding warmongers or originators, it was displayed through the faded colors of a single painting. For one's own race to be a portrayal and depiction of a single action must seem quite intimidating and perplexing to grasp. Yet at least it was informative, pictures need no translation. And with that, King Owen and Queen Tahlia are spared a hint of the creatures they would be conversing. Well, that is conversing through their translator, Pseudo. As the Human monarchs trudge their way to the path towards the faces of the Principality, they notice a sixth throne. As they could perhaps recall Pseudo had mentioned only five alien monarchs, but their stood an empty seat of royalty with the mural behind it concealed by strokes of black paint- a cover up. No matter, that should not be a distraction, but rather focus should be put towards the matter at hand, the fate of the entire Human race. 

Pseudo walked in front of Owen and Tahlia with Yaz and Echo following in the back. Once Pseudo stopped, the bot bent to his knees, kneeling in presence of nobility, to which it expected that those behind him would do the same. After the genuflect, Pseudo rose upward and instead facing the monarch, he turned around towards the crew.  

[color=B0E0E6]"Before discussion is made of your crime,

King Owen and Queen Tahlia, the Principality is not convinced that you are truly the monarchs of Humanity.

No, another member of your colony has instead claimed role of king..."[/color]

The same massive metal doors that had just been released for the opening when Tahlia, Owen, Echo, and Yaz entered through, had again been moved to make way for yet another visitor, a familiar visitor. But his voice was far from familiar, 
now it seem much more 

[i]distorted[/i].

[color=9e0b0f]"Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserable. Doing or Suffering: but of this be sure. To do ought good never will be our task, but ever to do ill our sole delight... you fuckin' eejits."[/color]

He appeared before them, stepping out from the shadows behind the sixth throne. He chuckled briefly, and discordant tones crackled from his mouth.

[color=9e0b0f]"This bunch aren't familiar with Paradise Lost. You know who the protagonist is? Satan."[/color] Ailbeart Rend's face held a countenance that none of the crew of the Artemis had ever seen before - a wide grin spread across his face, his one unobstructed eye bulged down at them and his pupil flitted from person to person with an unprecedented energy. His hair, in contrast, was less lively, for only grey wisps coated his skull and they were altogether unkempt. He was dressed in some kind of blue robe that appeared somewhat skin-tight yet malleable, yet it pooled away from Rend slightly just before it touched the floor. Though he had lay supine, on the verge of death, maintained by machines and the fragile clemency of the crew, now the man was anything but. He had been reanimated from his corpse-like state, and stood to look down on the crew once more, only not from the heavens. If they harboured any questions of how, or who, or why, Rend answered gleefully by raising a hand to his neck and dispersing the (apparently not solid) material that had been a part of his robe. Underneath, the answers lay. Rend's skin grew taut between his chin and Adam's apple, and it stretched paper-thin where the first instances of metal began. The technological reparation of his neck then spanned six centimetres long and five centimetres wide. The metal did not allow any portal or gap through which the interior of the previously damaged trachea might be seen, but one can imagine the incomprehensible alien technology that now powered and maintained the breathing, and indeed the very life, of the one man who had so commonly mouthed patronising epithets against technological advancement.

[color=9e0b0f]"Although, I think I'd liken myself more to something like... Frankenstein. Oh, wait, he was the doctor - what I really mean is Frankenstein's [i]Monster[/i]."[/color] The grin vanished from Rend's face, instead a brooding somberness possessed him. It was now clear that his violent encounter with Tahlia, and whatever had transpired when the aliens had ahold of his near lifeless body, had irrevocably changed the nature of his voice. He was no longer capable of vocal inflections or much variation in pitch. Though words full of menace and anger formed on his tongue, they conveyed themselves as monotone drivel.

[color=9e0b0f]"But enough about me,"[/color] exclaimed the drastically different, robotically-augmented Rend, [color=9e0b0f]"I'm sure the Principality would like to know what a handful of would-be usurpers are doing here..."[/color]

Pseudo translated Rend's dialogue in terms and language the alien Principality would understand. In return, the deemed monarchy responded in foreign speech, however yet again Pseudo translates but now for the humans, 

[color=B0E0E6]"They wish to know true allegiance, Yaz and Echo,"[/color] the machine announced the two girls by name though they themselves had never informed him of such. This information was obtained through the Artemis, once it was cleared of the crew. It is obvious further investigation would undergo through scavenging the ship data. [color=B0E0E6]"Stand behind your monarch."[/color] 

[/indent] [hr][center][h1][color=9e0b0f]Ailbeart Rend[/color][/h1][/center][center]Collab between [@beyond visions] (Pseudo) and [@Eru Iluvatar][hr][/center][center][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAp6M8Ln4Ug]Zack Hemsey - "Don't Get In My Way" [/url][/center][hr]