[b]King Jas'o![/b]

The arrow hit the soft spongey surface with a soft thud. It hung there in the centre of the bullseye for a minute - and then was sucked into the target. It vanished inside the spongey plant entirely, leaving only a discoloured purple bruise where it had started. Inside the arrow would be digested, dissolved, turned into nutrients so that the plant could regrow the other injury it had just sustained - across the field, linked by a long winding vine, a branch was rapidly regrowing another of its strange fruits. Long, straight, synthetic feathers at the end - a perfect arrow, ready for the archer to snap off with a twist of his fingers and fire it right back in cannibalistic cycle into the plant's core surface. Once again he fired the shot, and another perfect violet bruise right in the centre of its bullseye was added to the plant's strange surface.

"Princess Jas'o? Are you - oh!" The voice came softly from the owlgirl servitor, a gentle announcement of purpose from a creature whose silent movement swould otherwise be entirely undetectable. 

"Hey," said Jas'o, nocking and firing another arrow in a fluid but mechanistic motion. "Sup?"

"Your father sent me to collect you for your Tanderil geology lessons... you've shifted, highness?"

"Yeah," said Jas'o, gesturing at his now-flat chest. "These were getting in the way. Not badly, but I've got more range of motion like this, and every little counts."

"Ah. Um. Would you like to change your pronouns too?"

"Sure, whatever," said Jas'o, arcing and firing another shot. "Don't care."

"Would you like me to change as well, highness?" she said.

"Also whatever," said Jas'o, snapping another arrow from the branch. "Do what you want."

"And... will the prince come with me?"

"For what?" he snorted. "Geology? No thanks."

"Your father will -"

"Do nothing!" snapped Jas'o, and landed another perfect bullseye despite the rising tension. "He will do nothing! [i]His[/i] father will do nothing! Honestly, Hili! What the fuck is the point of any of it! We're never going back! Even [i]grandfather[/i] hasn't seen this planet we're apparently supposed to rule, and father's spent his entire life standing ready to swoop in and administer the shit out of it the day he's finally allowed to. We're let's-pretend kings sitting in a desk drawer, learning two hundred year out of date information, and I am," he fired another arrow into dead centre of the target, "[i]too old[/i] to play pretend."

"Ah," Hili said quietly.

"The only thing in this world that matters," he said, focus never having left that distant target, "is war. The only way anything is going to change. The only way to advance. The only way to get out is by being good at something. By being too good to keep locked up in a drawer. It was war which brought us all here. Empress Nero's throne stands atop a pile of spears. Only Pallas Athena can change anything in this world. How tough are you?"

"Master?"

"I'm sick of shooting stationary targets. I know you're fast. How tough are you?"

"I... I am not entirely certain, master. But somewhat. I am designed for bodyguard duties and can probably endure a fair number of arrows, so long as nothing vital is pierced."

"Good enough," said the prince, drawing another arrow. "Start dodging."

[b]Alexa![/b]

How did he get to be such a frighteningly good shot?

You can see Athena herself draw in an impressed breath as King Jas'o turns and puts an arrow directly through your heel, an Achilles-slaying shot fired in perfect flow from one moving target to another. You're sent crashing to the ground but before you land Galnius and another hoplite catch your arms and continue carrying you forwards.

[Damage your [b]Grace[/b]]

The King's troops pile into an open practice square, filled with dead Ceronians, forming up into a phalanx. You arrive a little behind them and see three figures waiting for you there - Princess Redana, unconscious in the blood-soaked arms of a feline servitor. There is another servitor nearby - a Ceronian, holding a terrible gleaming scythe, blazing with the dark glory of Ares. The ground is littered with bodies she's made.

"On your knees!" shouted King Jas'o, darkly menacing as he strung a thunderbolt to his bow. No hesitation now - he was lit by lightning, the centre of a thunderstorm, ready to land his fourth perfect shot of the day. "Step away from the princess!"

[b]Vasilia![/b]

Energy is crackling from the engine-sun. An overflow of power is ionizing the crystal waterfalls, condensing them into dark clouds that billowed out to blot out the ceiling-sky, brimming with dark and violet light. Winds start to pick up. Zeus and Poseidon together have spread the terrible storm that dominates the void into the interior.

"The gods are angry!" said Admiral Odoacer, never one to let a good divine omen go to waste. "They are giving you a final warning - serve me or perish!"

"What do you command, Lord Admiral?" cried a Ceronian, dropping to her knees - in second the army was again kneeling, united in fealty.

"There is only one way to make this right," she said. "An opportunity you were too distraught to see was in front of you before. Seize the princess! Bring her to me in chains! And if you happen to see a cutie of a catgirl, bring her to me in chains also!! And gag them!!"

There's a bit of staring. The Admiral seems to have gotten caught up in a rush of... something.

"Don't question me!" she said. "It is important that it happens like this! Go!"

The army of Ceronians stand fluidly, and then march into their city. The Admiral fanned herself with one hand, grinning in a flustered kind of way, and then hopped down to follow them. You'd bet that she's heading towards the palace - you don't know what the Admiral is like in person, but you get the impression that for whatever reason she wants to be sitting on a throne when she receives her prisoners.