"Old? But these notes are–"

He once again glanced at the fated paper.

"... What? That can't be right... That's before I was even born."

Matias's hands fell on his hips, his lips pursing as he let out a soft whistle. 

"Well, whatever she's hiding, we can't let those idiots know. I'm not sure how we'd–?"

He caught movement at the corner of his eye. Looking up, he caught Oleander making their way to a window and opening it.

"... What are you doing?"

Oleander paused before looking back, their right foot already on the sill. The motor between their wings was glowing a brilliant blue at what appeared to be the exhaust.

"I'M GOING TO THE CAPITAL."

"Right now? By yourself?!"

Matias didn't get a reply, just a powerful burst of wind in his face as Oleander's jetpack carried them off. A black, sooty brand was left on the floor from which Oleander flew.