[center][h1]~ Chapter 3 ~[/h1]
[sub]Historical Lies, The Price Of A Limb[/sub][/center]

	Later in the day, Mikhael found himself tucked comfortably underneath a neatly woven blanket. As comfortably as a recent amputee could rest, anyways. Maya had brought him to her home, where her Royal guard stood over him, keeping a watchful eye on the boy, making sure he didn't try to leave, and didn't go through another bout of demonic resurgence. The Queen explained the situation to her guard in great detail three hours earlier, before leaving them with her would-be son. Hadn't she promised him answers, though? Where had she run off to? Kale was not that large. Something was amiss, or perhaps the Queen was making appropriate preparations of some sort.

	"A drink, Mikhael?" Joseph muttered, His resolve shaken by the Queen's recent news. "You've not had anything for hours, now." Ezekiel didn't turn when Joseph spoke from the opposite side of the bed. He kept his eyes pointed towards the entrance of Maya's home, desperately hoping that she would burst through a second later. He'd been like that for an hour, his faith dwindling with each passing second. Joseph glanced at him and sighed irritably. "Ezekiel, would you please calm yourself? The last thing anyone needs-"

	"I've little patience for your tone tonight, Joseph!" Ezekiel snapped. "Tend to the boy. Do your duty, and do not [i]speak to me without purpose.[/i]" Joseph felt a lump slowly rising his his throat. It was rare to see his partner so easily stirred. But the events the preceded gave more than enough reason for unrest.