Rather than work in his personal study - it was wonderful that they had had a room to give his sister her own, lest they be forced to work in the same room - Auberon found himself reading up on past documents in the castle's library. He yearned to find a solution to the strife between Michael and Gabriel, as he, like his sister, was dissatisfied with what had been done so far. Though he felt that Adeline was much deeper in grief than he, their rage was likely equal. To call it rage was a bit of an exaggeration, but neither would rest until things were made right. The assassination of their parents had not gone unnoticed, but it had gone unpunished. The responsible offenders were not caught, and he himself believed that little effort had gone into finding the offending party. It was not something as simple as poisoning; no, they had been attacked with blades, bled to death. It was a crime, and he intended to see the resolution through.

	As he rolled up another parchment, the door to the library opened, revealing one of the maids. Petunia? No, that wasn't right. Frowning to himself, Auberon stood from his seat and waved his hand in acknowledgement that she was waiting to speak. The girl - and how odd it was to call her that, as she looked to be about his age - looked relieved, and stood straight, looking him in the eye. It was refreshing, to not be treated like you were to crumble any moment.

	"Queen Adeline requests your presence in her study," the maid told him, hands clasped in front of her.

	"Did she say it was urgent?" Auberon asked, tying the cord around the parchment and heading to place it in its rightful spot once more. Behind him, he heard the maid follow.

	"No, your Majesty," she responded with hesitation.

	"I'll be there immediately," he told her with a dismissive wave of his hand. However, he turned to her as she was leaving, stopping her in her tracks with his words. "Will other parties be present?"

	"Sir Venisi, as well as two of the personal servants," the maid told him, turning to face him as she did so. "Is that all, your Majesty?"

	"Yes, you're dismissed," Auberon told her, following the maid out of the room, but taking a different path than her.

	While she was likely off to fetch the others, Auberon was heading straight to his sister's study. it was easy to come to the conclusion that the meeting was in regards to the letters he and Adeline had received from King Valentine, though he had not seen if his sister's was much different than his. He did appreciate, however, that they had received separate letters; they make rule together, but they made individual decisions as rulers. Why Adeline had summoned a knight and two servants to her study as well eluded him, but Auberon trusted most of his sister's decisions. At the very least, she knew better than to include their baby sister, Serenity. A child had no place in politics, love her as he may.

	Stopping by his own study to gather the letter he had received from King Valentine, he wondered if his sister had sent her response yet. He had responded early this morning, sending his letter off with a trusted courier, and hoped that the other king received it in a timely manner. Letter in hand,  Auberon knocked on the door, confused as to why it was ajar. He supposed it was a half-open invitation for entry, though it was sloppy in his eyes. Opening it fully for his entry, he greeted his sister with a smile and observed that the colours they wore today were the same. The black was to be expected - they were in mourning - but the muted blue that accented their outfits was identical. Perhaps it came with being twins, their similar decisions and feelings.

	"Sister," he greeted, strolling over to her desk and lying is letter atop it. "I trust you have responded to King Valentine."

[hr]
	The Sheol Cathedral shook with the latest blast, causing loose stones to tremble and the people within and around it to cover their heads in fear. Work on the seal had been slow - decades in the making - and it seemed that they were finally making reasonable headway. Ichabod had watched many a demon and human fall to breaking the seal, and had raised each that was not too badly damaged shortly after their demise. Typically, it was demons that joined his legion of undead, though a few humans had made the cut and proven worthy. Unfortunately, many had been wasted with Lenore's flames, though their deaths were necessary; rebels would not be tolerated. Breaking the seal was priority, as was told to the kingdom by their king.

	From his place beside Lenore on the second story of the cathedral, Ichabod stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He kept a watchful eye on his undead minions, and kept Lenore in his peripheral at all times. He worried for her, taking the mantle of archbishop, but was overall proud of her and her progress. She was going to accomplish what her predecessors had failed to do, and he was going to make sure of it. Though Ichabod himself could have taken up the role she now held, he was glad he had not; not only because he cared little for the title and its responsibilities, but because of the pride he felt knowing his Lenore was leading the greatest effort in the kingdom.

	Lenore seemed to have reached a critical decision as she led them from their post, down the stairs and out of the cathedral. Not wanting to break her concentration on the task at hand, Ichabod remained silently for the journey to the castle. Perhaps she'd thought of something he had not - was the seal close to breaking? Even without her curse, the necromancer felt that his charge had an affinity for magic. While it was likely better that one of them had stayed behind to keep an eye on those slaving away at breaking the seal, there were other bishops present to do so. And should anyone have slacked off? They were sure to meet either his blade or her flames. There was no tolerance for those who did not do as they were told.

	A cursed human greeted them inside the castle, ushering them further inside where they waited for their audience with King Erebus. Lenore was clutching her tome closely, a look of quiet distress on her face, and Ichabod felt a pang in his heart. There were only two he'd ever cared about - his beloved, and Lenore. Now was one of those moments when he had to remind himself that she was no longer a babe, and could hold her own and solve her own problems. Still, when her icy blue eyes fell on him with what could only be described as a pleading look, he broke the silence in their wait.

	"I assume we've made considerable progress?" Ichabod inquired with an upward quirk of his lips. "Under your command, the kingdom has made more progress than it has in the past century."

	Though not one to give direct compliments, Ichabod could certainly talk circles around one. Raising her meant that Lenore would understand this, and hopefully take his words as truth. He'd seen a lot in his time, after all; from his time before the kingdom was sealed to the time spent breaking the seal. Not once, though, had he ever put his life on the line to do so. He was glad that Lenore shared that with him; he'd already lost most of his beloved, and to lose Lenore would be all it would take to return him to the realm in which Lucifer himself dwelled in.