The room was immaculate and well furnished in dark woods and a bookcase organized properly. The desk was large, it dominated the room. He wrote in a way outdated even for his time, he used ink and a quill though he wasn't very old himself. He said using a quill made writing an act instead of a happenstance. He was writing, smoothly but with displeased brows and an irritated lower lip his teeth worked on. The door opened.

"Sir?"

He looked up from his papers and his eyes made the man and everything in the room still for a heartbeat. He set the quill down and leaned back in his seat. He didn't say anything. He waited.

"I bring news."

He waved his hand to a stack of missives and information at the left corner of the desk. His expression had lightened so it could become sardonic, "You can see we have lots of news."

"We, Sir?" The man noticed that it was only him and the leader of the Hive in the room.

"Yes, We." And he didn't elaborate.

The messenger decided to continue with what he'd come to say, "...This is different. This is big news."

It was staged like a mouse approaching a lion. The room was a lavish den and the mouse was the same size as the lion in body only. The lion was willing to be distracted and entertained a few minutes longer but the quiet irritation at the mouse's screaming was souring the humor he saw in it. His eyes were steady on him. He lifted his brow a fraction to tell the man to speak.

"Rhydin is under attack."

"..."

"Rhydin is under attack," he said, down on one knee so that he could look both his boys in the face when he said it, "and we've got to go to their aid."

"Why?" One of the boys asked it, but they both felt the question.

"Because they helped us in the past, so our town owes it to help them in the present. It's what you do when someone has done something that important for you. You might not have been born if it weren't for them helping." He grinned and tapped the boys on the ends of their nose.

"When will you be back?" The other boy asked, his thin arms folded over his chest. The man's sons were only eight but they knew what the word war was and though they may not have understood the totality of destruction, they knew a sinking feeling in their stomach when they felt it.

"Soon. I promise. You two need to stay together and take care of your mother here." He kissed them on the tops of their heads and messed up their hair with a brush of his hands.

Did he know he was lying to them?

"Sir? Are you listening?"

He blinked and looked at the man. The sarcasm and blood in his tone was replaced by something firm. He lowered his eyebrows and cleared his throat, "How certain of this are you?"

"Completely. I've seen some of the war for myself. I came to tell you because I thought it was something you'd want to know."

"Yes...We do." his voice was distracted and he looked away from the man, out the window of the large warehouse they were in. This room was a deception, it was built and modified to be unlike the rest of it, which was more honest with its structure's build. Rhydin was weak now, they were in need of aid. He expected a lot of men to die.

"A lot of men died," She said as she sat down in the chair. Her sons came to her, wrapped their arms around her and tried to cry quietly. They wanted to be the men that didn't cry, but their new hearts couldn't be toughened like a soldier's already.

"Do you know about dad?" One of the boys asked her, rubbing away his tears and sucking in a breath to force a stronger facce.

"Your father died two days ago. The letter... came today."

"What?" One of the boys screamed, breaking away from her and throwing his hands at the air, "How can you say that?"

"It's war... it's what happens when you fight..." She tried to reach out to him to sooth him, but he wouldn't have it. He struck at her hands and took a step back, "You're a horrible lying witch and I hate you for it!" He grabbed her drinking glass and smashed it on the floor, his eyes glaring at her, daring her to punish him. When she remained sitting there with an open, wordless mouth he left the house, slamming the door behind him.

His brother broke away from their mother and went after him. He hadn't gone far. His arms were crossed over his chest and his tears were hot and angry down his face. He didn't say anything to his brother, just stood beside him and let years pile onto their young soldiers.

"Dirty lying whore," his brother kicked a rock and sent it flying.

He wet his lips, staring to where he should have seen the ocean meet the sky, but it was just gray, "Yea."

"Sir? What will you have me do?"

"Quiet." His voice snapped and he got to his feet. He walked towards the door of the office, opened it and signaled that the man go out of the room first. When he did he was behind him, tasting blood in his mouth and realizing he'd chewed open the inside of his cheek.

The warehouse was large and it hummed with the life of men doing their biding. The metal of the place was loud and announced everything but no one was concerned with being caught. After all, they were the mayors of the town now so it didn't much matter that they did illegal and questionable operations. With political leverage, even the local law enforcement, James, could do little to impede them. The town had been turned, transformed into a factory that was spitting out the profits they wanted and doing little to make the culture, the life of the town, thrive. The warehouse was called the Hive and it hummed with all the stingers of greed, a hard exoskeleton and the honey of pillaged goods. The Hive was ready to expand and it was now, with this messenger, that a new field of opportunity was offered.

Down the metal staircase he walked. Half the time people recognized him. The other half of the time they were recognizing his brother. They had drown themselves in one another. Most members of the Hive were confused by it but didn't ask questions.

"Sir?"

"We need to use this situation to our full advantage."

"We, Sir?"

"Yes," his eyes had a way of shooting through someone's throat, "We."

The room was dark and quiet. The curtains were drawn and a candle burned by the bed of a woman who was dead. Her mouth was draw open and there was old blood that curdled brown around her mouth. Her hand still clutched a handkerchief and it, too, was discolored by old blood. Her two sons were there, sitting in what had been their father's chair and staring at her. She was starting to smell but they hadn't left the house and after a while, they didn't smell it so much anymore.

When they heard a knocking on the door they looked sharply toward the noise. One of the brothers grabbed the other by the shoulder. There was hesitation and then they moved in unison to the door. Opening it was like forcing the sun to rise in your pupils. They squinted and drew their lips up into dry chagrins.

"Devon? Damien? Are you all right?" It was one of their neighbors, astonished at the sight of them. They were thin and looked dirty.

"I..." he stopped and looked at his brother, "We're fine."

His brother glared at her when she touched his arm. She touched both of their arms. It was meant to be comforting. "Where is your mother?"

"She's sleeping." The brother said, but his words were rejecting her.

"It's just we haven't seen any of you in a couple days and... we know your father passed away." She was like most of the women in town. Alone, her husband and eldest son slain in some place so far off it was hard to imagine it had happened. People were starting to call the harbor town the Widow's Spoon.

"He was killed." A brother corrected.

She paused and looked at him tenderly but didn't say anything. She rose to her full height and walked back into their mother's bed room. Her scream made their bones vibrate, but it was a distant and somewhat numb sensation. The boys looked at each other and then back towards the harbor with an emptiness in them.

"Rhydin..." he said quietly to himself, stepping out of the Hive, the messenger left behind. His boots grinding down the gravel even more. He passed Rogues Tavern on his left which half sat on the sea when the tide was in. He passed homes, half of which had gone empty. Even the police station with James, who use to be an adversary and was now a distant promise of a threat, had become nothing but a boring relic he hardly noticed.

He only paused for a minute to regard one of the abandoned buildings. After all, it had been their childhood home.

It was pitch dark in the hidden stairway leading to the basement when Ed and Charlie made their way down there. Since the invasion of the city had begun, they'd been rotating shifts between Rose House and other safehouses located throughout the city. So far it had been a rather boring affair to Charlie. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened to any of the houses. He was grateful for that, though. At least the kids were safe.

As he and Ed were setting up for the evening's guard duty - tonight it was to be a game of poker - the ringer went off on Charlie's cell phone. Sitting down at the card table, he took out his phone and read the text. A grin on his face as he replied, then put the phone onto the table and looked up at Ed, expectantly.

"You're going to turn that thing off. I don't want to hear it and I don't want anybody who might be lurking outside to hear it either." Ed shook his head and wondered how this young boy was going to make it through the invasion. As he lowered himself into a chair, he began to shuffle the cards.

An hour into the card game and the others that sat at the table with Charlie had enough of his delaying the game and the irritating ring tone that seemed to go off every five minutes. Finally, Ed gave up and folded his cards. "Going to get more to drink. Charlie, put that damn thing on silent, at least. You two punch him in the arm until he does." Ed got up then and went to the staircase that led up into the main floor.

"Hey guys, take it easy," Charlie laughed and put his phone on vibrate. The others seemed disappointed that they couldn't punch Charlie in the arm. It sounded like a fun way to pass the time.

Once up the stairs and through the bookcase, Ed tiptoed through the classroom and through the house towards the kitchen. The children were asleep and he didn't want to rouse them.

In the kitchen, Ro and Beni were still up, going over the progress reports for the children who attended their little school. Since the invasion of the city had begun, Beni had bowed to pressure from both Ro and Edward and had moved herself into Rose House for the duration.

"For someone who's been through so much so recently, Marishka's doing really well," Ro was saying as Ed walked into the kitchen, looking up with a tired smile. "Well, if it isn't Mr Dark and Broody."

Beni snorted with laughter, laying down the papers in her hand as she, too, looked up at Edward. "All quiet on the Western Front?"

While on duty, Edward rarely smiled, much less spoke unless it was necessary. The invasion had him more on edge than normal and humor was overlooked. "Evening, Ro, Beni. Very quiet. Makes me nervous."

Bypassing them to get to the refrigerator, he pulled it open and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade. He was no stranger to this house; having been there more than his own place as of late, he knew right where everything was. When he turned around to reach for the glasses, his expression softened. "Sorry," he shrugged. "Guess I'm on edge. Just seems strange that we've not been attacked yet."

The two women nodded. They understood Ed's tension; anxiety permeated everything at the moment. The Shambles were almost full of refugees on top of the usual cram of people who lived in this area, and while Rose House had its own fortifications hidden away, to the naked eye it was a tempting target.

Ro cleared her throat, leaning forward to get Ed's attention. "Do you know anything about this guy they say is leading the attack? Travanix?"

As he poured the first glass of lemonade, Ed shook his head slowly. "Not enough. Just that he's leading this entire attack, or so rumor goes." Deciding that he'd rather drink his lemonade now, he put the pitcher down and the glass changed from one hand to another. "Right now all we have is rumor and conjecture. That's not an easy thing to fight against." He sighed, then took a sip. "Good lemonade."

"Trudy's a good cook," Ro smiled, forcing aside her uneasiness. She'd had to do that a lot recently, especially for the children; as had Beni. Beni was better at it, in her opinion. She sighed, glancing at the other teacher, and brushed her hair out of her face. "So we know pretty much nothing about him. That's irritating. I take it the other safehouses are quiet? Dec's holding the fort across town?"

Ed gave a curt nod, agreeing that Trudy was, indeed, a good cook. And he knew the difference between the schooled look that Beni and Ro had on their faces and their natural smiles. He also understood why it was there. The looks were a facade to keep the peace. When asked about the safehouses, Ed pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. "Except for that infernal beeping of cell phones, quiet as dormice."

It was Beni who answered that one, a genuine chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her fiery red head. "Let them play," she said indulgently. "I think it's lovely that Declan and Charlie are so fond of one another. There's so much romance in them staying in constant contact." As she spoke, there was not one flicker of the added warmth that Edward knew to be all his own in her expression. To Ro's eyes, they were just colleagues talking.

"Two?" Ro's brows rose. "Three, you mean. They're all bundled up with Aleyna, that Healer Dec keeps trying to get us to employ."

Beni's jaw dropped. "You're kidding," she gasped laughingly. "Well, I never. Kinky."

Edward put up his hands and shook his head. "Ok, I don't think I need to hear anymore." He made quick work of filling up the four glasses, then placing the pitcher back into the refrigerator. "Ladies, I'll be back up to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, alright?"

The tray he was carrying was held between his hands and he stopped at the doorway of the kitchen to look at Beni over Ro's shoulder. Only then did he smile, and it was just a tiny one; more of a softening of features as he looked at Beni. But that was just a momentary thing before he turned and headed towards the classroom, and ultimately, the bookshelf and stairway to the basement.

The look he got in return flared with the affection between them, though Beni's lips did not even twitch. Ro didn't notice a thing, already buried in paperwork again. She didn't glance up as Beni rose to her feet. "I'll head up and check on the children," the redhead announced with a weary sigh, "and then I think I'll turn in myself. Night, Ro."

As her friend and colleague headed away, Ro managed an absent-minded, "Night, Beni," before the woman was up the stairs and out of sight. She studied the paperwork in front of herself a moment longer, then sighed herself, rummaging across the kitchen table for the long-range radio that was there. It crackled as she lifted it to her lips. "Dec? Everything alright there?"

On the other side of town, in a deserted safehouse that was even more heavily fortified than Rose House was, Declan was snorting with laughter at the text he had just recieved from Charlie when Ro's voice crackled over the radio. He scrambled for it, pressing the button to answer. "Yeah, everything's fine," he assured the blonde on the other end. "Eight of us here, ready to leap into action if anyone so much as stubs their toe."

"I'll sleep better for knowing that, thanks, Dec," Ro chuckled, before signing off and lowering the radio. She leaned back in her chair, head tilted back as she listened to Beni moving around on the floor above.

Quietly, Beni crossed the dining hall and eased open the first of the dormitory doors. All three little ones in there were sleeping soundly, and she smiled in fond protectiveness before easing the door closed once more. The second room was much the same. The third ... had two empty beds. Frowning, she stepped inside, speaking softly for the sake of the only sleeping occupant. "Phinny? Penny?"

The men were almost assembled, it would be the next day or two that they would launch. In the office of the warehouse of the Hive he reclined in his chair and looked at the papers shuffled atop the heavy, dark oak desk. His fingertips were aligned with one another, elbows on the armrests of the chair. His eyes, however, they were distracted, starting out the window where a mist of rain made a few drops climb slowly down the window pane.

The tempest brewed as he entered on silent feet. The faint maniacal gleam sparked with the grin of a predator. Stepping soundlessly behind him. For a moment tempted to sink a blade into the smooth skin above his collar. It would be so easy, the knife sharpened precisely, would not deviate as it slide through skin, muscle, bone. A swift clean kill. But his hand was stayed. This was his other half, so while the temptation was there, the will never would be. For now. Besides, his brother could sense him, as easily as he sensed his brother. So instead a faint brush of fingers over the sensitive nape. "We
are set?"

"So far." It was hard to tell how much of him registered ill intent. Either he was ignorant, or ignoring it. Eyes like his other's met the gaze of his brother and he forced a small smile. Joy wasn't something to feel, just yet. The deed hadn't been done, the blood spilled. It all felt only like promises without the follow through. His interest in the battle made his skin itch with impatience. His lips parted, he was going to add something but the door opened up and one of their messengers came in. He could tell by the wear, the worry of the face, that the man was bearing them ill news.

"There's news..."and he went to the brother at the desk quickly, set the letter down and hurried out the door. No one enjoyed being in both the brother's presence at once. Not many had even seen them simultaneously, but the few that had spread rapid rumors. He broke the
seal and opened the letter.

Immediately his eyes grew colder, harder, and he looked at his brother, "We have a problem." He set the paper down and turned it so that his other half could read it if he desired, "There is a legion of men approaching the Widow's Spoon. They want, perhaps, to take the city." He looked away, pressed his lips together and then spoke quietly, "I
wonder if they knew we were leaving."

Rage, for a moment flashed hot. Fingers trembled in minutia, then the tempest settled once more. He turned away to take of the vigil out the window. "Organization this large, its hard to keep too many secrets... " muttered softly. "What do you propose?"

"We should stay," he said, standing up from the chair and gathering the papers from the desk and stacking them in a neater pile, "And make a big show of staying and being present. If they were hoping for us to be gone, then it is probably because they can't defeat us if we're here at full force. However," the papers aligned with the upper, right hand corner of the desk, "the opportunity in Rhydin cannot wait forever."

A faint nod in answer, wheels turning chaotically. "The orphanage is not very well guarded.. " he mused softly. Still his eyes remained locked upon the scenery below.

"Who do you think could do it best?" he said as he straightened his posture, eyebrows lowering, "Raul had a firm idea of what needs to be done. What do you think of sending him in ahead? Maybe someone else?"

A faint snort of sound and he turned to look at his mirror. "It sounds reasonable brother.. He seems smart enough to comprehend that any mistakes will be taken from his hide... " and that wolfish grin returned. Relishing the idea... "But I defer to you my brother, in matters such as these. You know I'm more of the blood and gore kind..." and he was. Preferring passion, rage, pain to logistics, planning and plotting.. In those areas his brother excelled.

"He did a good job on the last bit, really ground some resistance on the last missive we sent him on, from what I gathered. He seems... to know how far we mean for this to go." He was hesitant to place full faith in anyone. Raul could one day find his sensitive side and run off to write poetry for all he thought.

Eyebrows arched up at his mirror image and he nodded, "It's what I'd advise. Even though there is much to gain in Rhydin, it means nothing if we lose our stronghold. So we will wait here, make a show of strength and if need be, a show of force, to meet the coming legion. Raul will go ahead of us and we will join him in Rhydin, or greet him upon his return back here, should he do the task rapidly." He wanted his brother's confirmation.

Disappointment, rarely did he feel it. However, his brother was right. Best to hold down what they had, then to risk loosing it for what they might gain. "Agreed.. " he turned away and made a brisk path to the door.. "On that note, I will see the men are prepared to handle the coming events. "

Even with the promise of gain, even he could not predict the full value of it. Eyebrows arched up and he nodded to his brother, "Pick the men to go with Raul, you know the qualities they need." He returned to the desk, the papers, but did not stir them. He was thinking about the chess game they were playing.

A faint flash of that grin and he was gone...

(( Rp exchange between the Due Machiavelli Brothers))