_________________________________________________________________________

_______________________________________________________________________

Dimando smiled down at him, his violet eyes soft and benevolent. The young child swung his hand easily as he lead his oniisan through the dark gardens of their home's grounds, occasionally gracing his brother with a smile that could only be described as kawaii... and loving. Even though he was only a child, even though he had yet to grow up in this back-stabbing world of political intrigue, Saffir loved Dimando, and his oniisan could see that oh so clearly. He could see that Saffir almost worshipped him as his own personal deity.

­ ­ ­

Saffir cleared his throat, resisting the very appealing temptation to pull away from the long nailed hands of the Queen. He was completely stumped for words, to say the very least, but somehow, in his roiling mind of panicked numbers and calculations, he formed a sentence that actually consisted of words and not numerals, coefficients, variables and polynomials. "You are meaning Endymion of the Silver Millennium, I presume?"

Beryl cocked a lazy eyebrow, dropping her hand from his face, but not taking those disconcerting eyes from Saffir's face, and not moving back an inch. She was still leaning too closely to him for comfort, but he dared not pull away himself. Manners, after all, were an important part of court etiquette.

The hideously beautiful queen didn't appear to notice his discomfort as she replied in that same low voice, playing over the words with a smoky, almost gentle tone. "Oh, you know him, do you? I thought you might, the Imperial Line of the Earth is a very intriguing thing."

He almost shuddered outright as he realised in what manner Beryl found Endymion "intriguing." He vaguely remembered stories in those history tomes about this queen's infatuation with Prince Endymion, and it disturbed him to no end that she should compare him to the Crown Prince.

Dear God, what am I supposed to do now?! This woman was in love with Endymion, and now she's comparing me to him... how can that be possible?! We don't look alike, we don't! We don't, we don't, we don't... do we?

Thoughts of his oniisan made his attention temporarily wander to something he had done only the day before, but he quickly schooled his mind back to the situation at hand. There would be plenty of time to worry about that later. Right now, it would be more beneficial to everyone in general if he could manage to make his way out of this one.

He coughed slightly, barely managing to keep his expression neutral. She was still far too close to him for his liking; those unsettling eyes were still locked on his. "We do not have notable ties with the Earth, dark Majesty. We know who the so-called 'rightful heirs' to the throne are, but we have little to do with them."

Beryl seemed a little surprised by this, as was shown to him by her narrowed eyes. "You think the Earth is of little or no value?"

Saffir had to think quite hard on that one, moving through the figures in his head to come out with something in plain Japanese. "That is my brother's decision, not mine."

She continued to stare at him, her eyes shadowed. He had the unsettling feeling that he had insulted her dear beloved Endymion -- and that was, in all entirety, not a good thing to be doing. Neutron bomb juggling would be less hazardous to one's health. "Your brother, this White Prince of Nemesis, does not believe in the worth of the blue planet?"

He was beginning to feel the first touches of genuine panic as Beryl spoke her last sentence -- and she was still far too close to him. He had the agitated thought that if she wanted to get any closer to him, she'd practically have to climb into his lap. "To be frank, your dark Majesty, I don't always know what my brother thinks. This diplomatic mission was to here, Queen Beryl-sama, therefore I honestly don't know much about his other..." He searched for the word, unable to find it in the sea of calculations. It wasn't unusual -- when he was nervous, he often had trouble speaking like a normal human being. That was because technically, he wasn't really, he was a Savant and they thought differently to the rest of the Universe in general.

"Purposes," he completed finally, though that wasn't really the word he was looking for. He was far more concerned with the woman only inches from his face, as his heart began to throb in a random, distraught rhythm.

Beryl nodded, her flame coloured hair dancing about those extraordinary features, and Saffir resisted the urge to shudder. It wasn't because he didn't like the appearance of the queen -- for all the fact she was almost a demon queen like her master, she must have been pretty once. She still retained some of that prettiness about her, he couldn't really object to that. It was her aura -- and her temperament -- that so unnerved him. Not to mention the way she just wouldn't move away from him.

"So, what does your brother think of the Moon Kingdom - or do you not know that, either?"

The name of that forsaken place sent a tremor of genuine fear through him. He had never liked the moon, nor its former inhabitants, especially not lately, not with Dimando behaving so peculiarly. "The only thing the Moon Kingdom ever produced of worth was their little princess, Sailor Moon -- not to mention that stupid ginzuishou."

Beryl's eyes widened as she leant in that little bit closer to Saffir -- Saffir, who hated to have his personal space invaded by his own cousin. Naturally enough, he tensed all over, almost freezing in place as his muscles contracted.

She didn't seem to notice this. She simply locked those maliciously-coloured eyes on his and allowed a smile to expose her pointed canines. She moved herself slightly forward in her own chair, so that their knees were almost touching. He briefly thought that it couldn't really get much worse -- though he soon changed his mind. The main reason behind that was because Beryl chose that particular moment to gently rest one of her long, lithe hands on his left thigh.

She smiled slightly, and for scarcely a second, she played her tongue over the edge of those teeth that so resembled fangs. "Prince Saffir, do tell me more of the ginzuishou, for it does seem to me you know a surprising amount about it."

Saffir cursed the fact that he really seemed to have put his foot in it this time.

­ ­ ­

Dimando raised his head from where he had been resting it in his hands, looking up to see whom it was that would dare disturb him when he had specifically insisted that he be left completely alone for the time being. His eyes, though somewhat bloodshot, were as piercingly violet as they always had been, staring glacially at the woman who hazarded to request an audience with him at this point in time.

Amethyst Ja'Redran's eyes were lowered, she didn't dare look up to gaze into the eyes of the White Prince. She knew all too well the expression that would be captured there, and she was assuredly not in the mood to procure the shiro no oji's wrath. She had been on the receiving end of his tantrums all too often as of late, and she was most assuredly not happy about the circumstances of this visit. In medieval times, bearers of bad tidings were so very often executed for having the gall to bring such miserable messages to the ruler supreme.

Amethyst did not want to join the ranks of those unfortunate messengers.

"Amethyst re'Padparadscha, what a pleasant surprise," drawled the White Prince slowly and distinctly, though the tone of his voice easily contradicted what he was saying. "May I enquire as to your presence here?"

Amethyst cleared her throat, bowing her head to the Prince again, resisting the entertaining idea of dumping the letter in his lap and making a break for it. She was so entirely nervous she almost screamed when the Wisemanâs form moved up through the floor in his customary manner, only a few feet from Dimando's right hand side.

For a second, her eyes skipped back and forth between the two, before she realised that Dimando was paying no heed to his silent counsellor, he was merely staring at her alone. And it was not a pleasant stare -- if she were to be brutally honest about the whole thing, he looked downright furious with her silence.

"I think... I think I have something of possible interest to you here, Most Serene Highness." She barely managed to get the words out in an appropriately polite tone. Internally, she was shaking so hard she suspected she was on the verge of liquefying her internal organs.

"May I ask your reasoning, please?" Dimando replied in an icily smooth voice. Though Dimando himself loved to speak, he was not one for listening to long, dragged out speeches by others. Amethyst was prolonging this meeting, and it was beginning to really irritate him.

Almost tripping over her long, formal robes, Amethyst ventured a step closer, before stopping as she realised approaching the shiro no oji in a bad mood was akin to telling the execution squad "Fire at will." Keeping her head down, Amethyst took the envelope from within the folds of her attire and shakingly offered it to the Prince.

Dimando's brow furrowed as he observed the pitiful way in which the woman -- though she was barely more than a girl, at best -- offered him the cream-coloured envelope with some suspicion. He severely doubted if it was a trick letter; Amethyst was intelligent, he doubted that she would attempt a simple terrorist prank like a letter bomb while she was in the vicinity of any possible blast zone.

"Bring it to me," he remarked, somewhat harshly.

She jolted at the almost grating sound of his voice, before inclining her head upwards from where she could see her reflection in the obsidian floor. Still keeping her verdant eyes averted from his -- and pointedly keeping her body turned away from the Wiseman -- Amethyst approached him cordially and respectfully, ascending with infuriating slowness to the second step. There, she fell to both her knees, extending the letter to the Prince.

He took it from her with the same slow regality he usually practised, though at this point, he was so tense he had to restrain himself from simply snatching it away from her.

Examining the envelope, he found it to be of Earthen craftsmanship, or so he assumed. Paper was a rare commodity on Nemesis, and Dimando wasn't aware that there were any companies that made this kind of paper anywhere on Nemesis. It had to be from Earth, there wasn't any other possible place.

Turning it over, he gasped to see the simple, printed handwriting of a familiar hand. Written in the neat Japanese script of someone he knew all too well was his own name.

His eyes snapped up, he turned them immediately on Amethyst Ja'Redran, who felt the onslaught of his gaze -- or so he assumed. Her shudder as she drew in a deep breath seemed proof enough that he had startled her. "Where did you find this?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice, one designed to lull the jumpy archivist into a false sense of security.

It didn't appear to work; it seemed that there was someone besides Saffir who could see when Dimando was simply toying with people's trust. Amethyst sounded as nervous as before in her reply to the shiro no oji. "Prince Dimando-sama, while I was in the room of the jakokuzuishou, this letter appeared amongst the personal papers of the Blue Prince."

Dimando was cynically doubtful; it was a part of his career's job description, after all. "It just appeared, Lady Amethyst?"

She sounded just as bewildered as he felt as she spoke again; Dimando began to wish he could see her face. "Yes, Most Serene Highness! I was examining the wards of the Door when it happened... there was a flash of brilliant blue light, then this appeared... and the residual magics left only the power signature of one person..."

"Saffir re'Adamant," he finished for her, his voice quiet and thoughtful. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Amethyst. You are dismissed."

She then quickly backed down the dais, bowed to the Prince as low as she could manage in her relief, and almost ran from the audience chamber.

Dimando shifted the cream rectangle from one hand to another for a moment or two, before speaking to his advisor without actually looking at him. "Wiseman, as I am going to my study, I would like to ask you to leave my presence chamber."

The old sorcerer didn't appear at all perturbed by the request, he simply moved back through the floor in his usual fashion, disappearing from the room.

Dimando did not go to his study -- his curiosity needed to be sated now. With slightly trembling fingers, he swiftly undid the envelope, pulling from it one sheet of paper.

Most Esteemed Prince Regent Dimando re'Adamant;

Dimando stared at the letter, his violet eyes wet with tears. It was just... Saffir, all over. Saffir was completely in this letter

as he apologised to his elder brother for inconveniencing him and endangering his mission... Saffir didn't seem to care for himself, he cared more for his brother's peace of mind. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely read it as he scanned over it again. His brother, his dearly beloved little brother had found a way to contact him through magic, of all things. Saffir, who hated magic, who had better things to do than magic, Saffir had remembered the spell of the homing pigeon, one that Dimando had taught him so many years ago, and it had worked.

However, he was under no illusions to the fact that it had worked under the good will of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Pluto herself.

Thoughts of that woman suddenly made him realise what Saffir had said in this letter -- he was a year before Rubius re'Stephanite and the bickering Ayakashi Sisters arrived, which meant...

Which meant that if Dimando was to go back to the Twentieth Century through the time tunnel warded against Sailor Pluto, logically speaking, Esmeraude and Saffir should still be there...

The idea was plausible, for a second, it gave him the brief hope that he would see his beloved brother and his not-so-beloved cousin again. However, he realised all too quickly that Sailor Pluto would not allow such a thing to happen. It would be too easy, an elementary mistake that the seasoned Senshi was doubtful to make.

The letter fluttered to the floor as Dimando released it, closing his eyes, and trying oh-so-desperately to close his heart against the burning pain that threatened to consume him.

It was times like this Dimando appreciated the solitude that his presence chamber could occasionally grant him. There was no one to witness his moments of weakness -- though Amethyst, she had seen one. If he admitted it to himself, that was one reason why he himself had begun to dislike the woman's presence. She knew far too much as it was already, and she was --and should NOT be -- too deeply involved for his liking.

Taking the letter from where it had drifted to the floor, he tucked it away into its envelope, sighing as he did so. What he really needed to do was distract himself from this emotional disaster... but he knew that there was something else he had to do before he could really begin to accept that Saffir was gone. It sounded as if Saffir had acknowledged his fate and let it go. However, Dimando had an entire court to deal with, a court that abounded with rumours relating to the disappearance of the Prince's only brother -- and his cousin. "Strangely enough," they pondered as they whispered amongst each other, "they disappeared at the same time..."

The White Prince of the tenth planet, the rogue moon of the solar system, had to tell his court something before the rumours became the accepted truth. It would be less than benefiting to any of them to allow their vague thoughts to turn into ridiculous half-truths that were accepted as reality. Dimando's name had been involved in some less-than-flattering speculations, and he was beginning to realise that allowing these theories to continue would not be healthy at all.

The truth was, to keep them all focused on the mission at hand, he had to go and give them something to quell their hypothesises. He had to go before them and tell them that Saffir was, in all likelihood, never going to be seen again.

He had to tell them that, effectively, Saffir re'Adamant was dead.

Dimando left his audience chamber, not really knowing where he was off to. All he knew was that he had to get out of the audience chamber about which Saffir's ghost flitted in the shadows, he had to get away from the familiar voice that echoed through the pillars even though the owner had vanished to a place where Dimando could not follow. But most of all, he needed to... to forget? No, he needed not to forget, no, not ever would he forget.

He needed to accept his brother's "death," but no matter how hard he tried, something inside him cried out, a voice of conscience that spoke of an old pact...

He smiled grimly as he proceeded down one of his citadel's many corridors. "Oh, I won't dedicate a field of flowers to your memory, Saffir-otootochan..." A smile crossed his face then, a smile that would have chilled anyone to see it, had they been there. "No, not a field of flowers...but an Earth of them..."

­ ­ ­

Lord Marshal Serpentine re'Carnelian Seven Stars, Prince of his sept and sworn to the White Prince of Nemesis, was not happy.

Well, when youâre given a fleet of flying-chandelier warships, half of which are scorched and burned by the Inner Senshi and their barrier; several thousand infantrymen, at least three-quarters of whom are so terrified of said barrier that they would commit mutiny and treason rather than go up against it; and twenty officers who aren't even near the quality of Marshal Garnet re'Pirl (nor even of Rubius re'Stephanite, for that matter), and told to conquer Crystal Tokyo within three weeks, let's see you dance up and down for joy.

Serpentine passed his hand over his eyes and gazed down at Crystal Tokyo. It had once been beautiful, and in his mind's eye he could see it still pristine and glimmering, shining serenely in the sunlight, down there on the Plain of Yedo.

But that had been before the April Fools' Day attack a year ago.

That attack had been at the direct order of Prince Dimando-sama, and had been the last campaign of Lord Marshal Garnet re'Pirl. All of Earth save this one city had been under the rule of Nemesis then. Rubiusâ navy and Esmeraude's infantry had been used to deadly effect with Saffir-sama's tactics and Garnet-sama's strategy; it had been no wonder that the army of Nemesis had been confident. Their White Prince, so cold and so distant, so divine and so powerful, had appeared himself to address the troops; they had cheered him for so long that the ground under their feet shook with the power of adoration in their voices.

Serpentine had served Garnet as his military legate, and had been there to see the disaster overtake the army of Nemesis.

The crystal warships had appeared around the main bastion of the city; the suburbs of Crystal Tokyo had either surrendered or been destroyed days ago. The flying chandelier design so beloved of Grand Admiral Rubius re'Stephanite had taken on an altogether different aspect as each warship suddenly burst into scintillating flame.

Serpentine had had no time to gape, as the barrier had sprung up straightaway and the last defenders of Crystal Tokyo were streaming out, but that sight, the horrible sight of the burning warships, stayed with him forever.

He had had no time to think, after that, either; Lord Marshal Garnet had fallen right in front of him, and Serpentine had looked up into the cold merciless eyes of Senshi Uranus herself.

That had been the hour of Serpentine's ascendancy; with Garnet's death, Serpentine was the ranking officer on the field, since General Esmeraude had been nowhere to be found. He had actually fought, halberd to Space Sword, with Senshi Uranus, and had withdrawn only after Uranus had retreated herself. For that, he had received Prince Dimando's own accolade. He had been the one who had managed to gather the routed troops, to get the army back into the few remaining ships, to ensure that there still remained an army of Nemesis to present back to Prince Dimando.

It had been an utter mess, and he, Serpentine, had been the one to salvage it.

The April Fools' Day attack had been the first stumbling block in the conquest of Earth, but so far it was the biggest.

And now Prince Dimando-sama wanted him, Serpentine, to perpetuate it.

Serpentine shook his head, stared down at the silently glittering ruins of Crystal Tokyo in despair. Of course he would try; he had sworn the Holy Oath, on Rudra's blood and on the souls of himself and his beloved Amethyst, to serve unswervingly and to the death the Black Moon Family and its patriarch --

But he very much feared that it would be impossible; he had no doubt that as for tactics he was more than adequate and for strategy he was unmatched by anyone on Nemesis or Earth.

The problem was --

(beyond the icy pale eyes of the White Prince there lurked a dreadful cold sanity that was more frightening than any madness, and no one knew why Saffir had not yet appeared to calm it)

- was that the enemy was not flesh and blood, human adversaries.

The enemy was that Rudra-be-damned barrier, and the four Senshi who maintained it.

And, try though Serpentine could, throw as much as he had into it, toss away as many lives as he could bear, he very much doubted that in the end of three weeks he could present to Prince Dimando the crystal bier of Neo-Queen Serenity.

"Lychnite," he said wearily.

"My prince?" the Savant inquired, from his vantage point at another viewpanel. He glanced briefly down at the city, and smiled -- a gesture that bared an astonishing number of teeth.

"We need Saffir-sama's calculations upon the barrier's stress thresholds," he said.

"Certainly we do, my prince," Lychnite said calmly, "but they would be in Prince Saffir's personal papers. I cannot ask the one prince, as he is not to be found, but the other prince...."

He waited.

Serpentine sighed. He'd been rather afraid it was something like that.

"Very well," he said. "I shall go request the documents of Prince Dimando-sama. You will command the forces in my absence, but do not order an attempt on the barrier without me. Is that clear, Lord Savant?"

"Perfectly clear, my prince," murmured Lychnite.

Serpentine allowed himself to grimace as he vanished in a teleport; the man was an utter wolfshead. He really couldn't imagine why Dimando-sama had ordered Lychnite, of all people -- except that Lychnite was undeniably a mathematical genius, even among Savants, and he was a politician whose support Dimando no doubt sorely needed.

He was at the great white double doors of the Presence Chamber. The guards standing on silent duty to either side nodded to him expressionlessly; Dimando was both inside and in a fairly good mood, then. Well, so much the better.

Serpentine took a deep breath, and prepared to meet his sovereign.

­ ­ ­

Dimando sat in his throne expressionlessly, back straight, his hands resting lightly on the arms of the great green chair.

Gathered around him were all of his lords, all of his lesser princes, all of the Ministers who formed Rudra's Cabinet.

Dimando had something to say to them.

He had kept them waiting for quite some time now, and he was almost beginning to savor the rush of adrenaline that pulsed through him whenever one of them happened to catch his gaze and visibly shudder.

He supposed that he could keep them waiting for just a few moments more; there were two more personages for whom he waited, and there could be nothing done without their presence.

The double doors opened, and admitted the first of his two tardy councillors. Lord Marshal Serpentine strode briskly through the middle of the crowd, bulling his way through by sheer presence and an undeniable aura of "Get in my way and I'll tear your arms off" for which he was so renowned. Such a subtle one, Dimando thought ironically. And so soon, too. The messenger must have just caught him.

"Marshal Serpentine re'Carnelian," Dimando said coolly, before Serpentine could present himself to the White Prince. "You are most excellently punctual. Take your place at once."

"My Prince?" the purple-haired man said, in obvious confusion.

Dimando frowned. The nearest man began to tremble.

"Your place," he repeated. Dimando gestured impatiently. "Stand here, at my left hand. Unless you would rather relinquish the Lord Marshal's chevrons to someone else? No? Then stand here."

Serpentine bowed, left fist to breast, and took his place.

"Actually, Serene Highness," Serpentine said, pitching his voice only for Dimando, "I have come to ask you about the calculations that Savant Lychnite requires, the barrier-threshold projections of Lord Savant Saff-- "

"Later," Dimando said, abruptly. In anyone else, the suddenness and the curtness of the reply would have been termed rude. In the White Prince of Nemesis, of course, it was hailed as decisiveness and little tolerance for foolishness.

"We wait for one more," Dimando said, conversationally.

Serpentine said, as he was clearly expected to do, "And whom might that be, Serene Highness?"

Dimando's lips twitched slightly, and the glint of a bared sword and a glowing third eye lurked somewhere behind that white smile: white teeth, white lips, white-hot rage and frustration.

"We wait upon only Lord Rudra," Dimando said casually.

The Presence Chamber was completely and oppressively silent.

­ ­ ­

The thing about being Sailor Pluto is that no one knows if you screw up.

­ ­ ­

At last, Serpentine dared break the oppressive silence that had fallen over the throne room of the White Prince.

"Most Serene Highness," he said carefully, gauging Dimando's reactions, "for what purpose have you gathered your vassals, Most Serene Highness? Why do you choose today to gather us all together?"

"You will know in time," Dimando said, quite pleasantly, "and for now you may know that my will is for you and all others to keep silent before I become annoyed with your idle chatter."

After that no one dared ask any more questions.

The White Prince was, everyone agreed, beautiful as the soulstone of diamond for which he had been named; skin as pale as alabaster, eyes as deep rich violet as evening, hair the color of starlight touched by frost. He resembled his late father Prince Adamant minutely, whereas his brother Saffir tended to take after their long-dead mother, Porphyry.

And that was the main crux of the matter, for most of those who gathered in the Presence Chamber; Prince Adamant had been a hard, stern man, as merciless and self-centered as a hurricane, while his bride Porphyry had been as gentle as a spring breeze. Serpentine himself could not remember either of the royal pair (he was only Dimando's age himself), but he could readily appreciate that while the people of Nemesis worshiped and hopelessly adored their White Prince, they readily loved and blessed the Blue Prince. Dimando was remote and like a god; Saffir was approachable and much more like a thoughtful elf than like a true divine.

Serpentine was struck by a sudden notion. This gathering - was it about the mysterious absence of Prince Saffir-sama?

The more he thought about this idea, the more he liked it. Yes, of course it was. Not about the conquest of Earth at all. Perhaps Prince Dimando was finally going to divide up the lands and the spoils of Earth among his supporters as he had pledged to do upon leading them into this war. After all, they had been occupying ninety-nine point nine percent of Earth, undisputedly, for more than two years. Africa and North America had already unofficially divvied up between the Redstar clan and the Omega Family.

Perhaps that was where Saffir-sama had gone -- surely if there were a time when Dimando would need the impartiality and mathematical/engineering skills of a Savant, this was it; Saffir could be trusted to parcel out the land without regard to clan or alliances.

Serpentine mentally settled back, pleased with himself. So that was why a portion of Prince Dimando's bodyguard was missing, as well, along with Lord Marshal Esmeraude - they were guarding the prized younger brother of the White Prince, of course.

Yes, that must be it.

There was a clash of gong, a misting of the air around Dimando's throne, and then there was a cat walking calmly down the aisle of folk who parted respectfully for him.

Cream-white, slender cat with paws and muzzle of smoky blue; eyes of azurean ice and carriage that would have made a power-mad emperor look subservient: the archetype of Siamese cats, although this one was somewhat larger and more arrogant than the most perfect Terran specimen.

Rudra, the Nemesian Mooncat, gift of Queen Serenity of the Silver Millennium to the tenth planet; it was he who oversaw the mazed and warrened bureaucracy of the Dark Moon; it was he alone who was the eternal Prime Minister of Nemesis, immortal and incorruptible.

Although it was Dimando who was now supreme upon Nemesis, Rudra's words were still heeded respectfully, and Rudra was the only person to whom Dimando could be reliably assumed to listen.

Dimando inclined his head, and indicated a stool beside the great green Throne of the Winds. A cushion had been placed upon it, and a smaller stool sat beside it, so that the Mooncat need not suffer the indignity of being placed upon his seat like some common cat.

"Most Serene Highness," Rudra said, standing before the green throne. His voice was a cold deep bass that might have issued forth from a mountain. "If this is about the disappearence of Saffir re'Adamant and Esmeraude re'Garnet, then do not bother to tell me," Rudra continued, sitting with his tail wrapped round his haunches, spine straight.

An incredulous murmur ran through the waiting crowd. Surely - Prince Saffir was gone missing? And Lord Marshal Esmeraude, cousin of the White Prince? And together? But, they couldn't stand each other.... Prince Saffir was Dimando-sama's own brother, how could he have been misplaced? How could such an officer as Esmeraude re'Garnet have allowed him to be misplaced?

The speculations ran rampant for fully five minutes while Dimando waited unmoving and unmoved on his throne, meeting Rudra's gaze and saying nothing. Serpentine, at Dimando's left hand, had never felt so terrified in his entire life: if Rudra were to withdraw his support of Dimando, then Nemesis would assuredly be torn by civil war.

At last Dimando held up a hand. At his right elbow, the Wiseman made his customary entrance through the floor; it was a measure of how much Dimando had commanded the attention of his courtiers that no one even realized that the mage had entered until much much later.

Dimando said one word. "Yes."

Rudra smiled in cat-fashion, ice-blue eyes going very wide. "Saffir re'Adamant and Esmeraude re'Garnet are in the past, in the twentieth century," the cat said precisely. "And they work there to bring down Crystal Tokyo from the past, so that Lord Marshal Serpentine need not strain his forces in the present."

Dimando studied the cat thoroughly, and almost absently fingered one of the black drop earrings that were uniform among the upper echelon of the Black Moon Family.

"You have hit upon it exactly, Rudra-sama," Dimando said pleasantly. "And they will not return."

The words were final, irrevocable, dead.

The Presence Chamber emptied in almost unseemly haste as soon as Dimando, staring straight ahead with burning evening-colored eyes, made his sketchy salute to his subjects.

"Serene Highness," Rudra said, at last taking the seat that had been prepared for him between the Wiseman and the White Prince himself, "I would advise you not to interfere with the Senshi."

Serpentine thought, but did not say, that it had been too late for that counsel two years ago when the war on Earth had begun.

"I do not interfere with the Senshi," Dimando said, still pleasantly, but with the steel fist showing unmistakably under the velvet glove. "No," said the White Prince calmly, "I shall not interfere with the Senshi, but I shall most certainly break them."

"Serene Highness," Serpentine breathed, willing Dimando not to hear him, because as much as Serpentine needed to say this Dimando would almost certainly send him to the Executioner's Star for saying it. "Serene Highness, please, my Prince, consider that the Senshi must all help maintain the barrier with all their strength. Interfering with them is the only way to break them, because if we leave them alone they will hold against us forever."

Dimando stared at him. "What did you say?"

Rudra's pale eyes regarded Serpentine and stripped him down to his kidneys, found him mildly interesting in a boring sort of way, and passed judgement as "harmless."

"I said, Serene Highness, that all of the Senshi are needed at all of their strength to maintain the barrier-"

"That's what I thought you said," Dimando snapped. He sat back, lost in thought, then said, "All of you. Get out. Even you, Rudra; I have no patience for your hints and your games of houses today."

"Certainly, my Prince," both Serpentine and Rudra said at once. The man looked puzzled; the cat didn't deign to show any emotion. The man walked out after saluting; the cat simply vanished.

The Wiseman was already gone, but that was all right; Dimando didn't need him.

How curious, he mused. Of all people, it was Serpentine, the most unsubtle man alive, who gives me the answer.

To Part Eight, yo!