Claustrophobia hit, just momentarily. Coremon could feel the presence of the other three Digimon around him, incredibly close, and the walls of the chamber just beyond them.

Then the floor began to rise, so smoothly that it took him a while to register he was even moving. But gently he felt his weight adjusting, and he held his arms out. The manticore looked up, seeing pinpricks of silver light up above, getting closer and wider.

And before he or anyone else could say a word, they emerged into the main rail terminal itself.

Coremon’s first instinct was to squint, to try and dull the unbroken brightness of everything around him. The entire inner wall of the terminal was metallic, with shimmers of purple and blue running through the surface, reflecting the interior. There were no lights, but the walls themselves seemed to glow, although despite the brightness it seemed colder in here than outside.

The manticore heard a whistle from Serpemon beside him, followed by a billowing movement and a sharp yell. Caesiumon clicked behind them, holding out his palms in either direction.

“Now now, please keep your fingers in a sensible place. There’s a lot of traffic around here.”

He wasn’t lying. While the surroundings were sparse and bare the terminal was anything but; great strands of metal piercing through the very air, criss-crossing, meeting and separating, and even moving about, seeming of their own free will. On occasion a shuttle would shoot across one of them at ridiculous speed, and yet utterly silently, like a ghost on the highway. Coremon blinked, trying not to look too hard at any one area for fear of overbalancing and falling into the silver bowl beneath.

Thankfully, there was always the incessantly chirpy voice of Serpemon to keep him focused, as the snake darted this way and that, his tail wagging behind him.

“Oh my days, oh my days,there are so many of them! And so fast! You’ve really connected everywhere, haven’t you?”

Caesiumon chuckled, and held a palm forwards, bringing the platform into one of the circular globules poking up at the centre of the terminal. The snake caught his eye, and leant forwards, trying to discretely inspect the Digimon’s palm.

“Are you doing all this? Can you control the whole terminal?” He opened his eyes wide as his pupils dilated. “How powerful are you really?”

“No, no. I’m just a chauffeur.”Caesiumon rolled his shoulders, and gently tilted the platform forwards, depositing the three Elites without them even having to take a step. He followed after, brushing his hands away with a flutter of purple sparks. “The Spokes is like your fortress; very ancient and with a great amount of power hidden in these walls. Myself and the others like me just know how to tap into it. It’s quite useful really.”

“I’ll say.” Serpemon pressed his lips together. “Well...I guess you still get platform closures on occasion, or we wouldn’t be here.”

The metal man raised a finger to one cheek, looking a little sheepish. “Yes...well, no, more of a question of sabotage really but what can you do?”

“Sabotage?”Serpemon raised his eyebrows. “Do go on...”

“ No can do. Transport official business only.”

The snake looked visibly put out, and Mollumon reached aside and jabbed him in the ribs, before giving him a very definite ‘silence your big mouth’stare. Luckily Caesiumon didn’t seem to be offended, as he reached up and clapped his hands together. Within seconds, one of the shuttles descended, plopping itself on an extended platform like a dewdrop on a flower. The side opened up, creating four holes perfectly sized for the occupants. Coremon couldn’t help but feel a little pensive about going inside, but he followed after Mollumon, padding gently at the metal base. The entrances closed up again as soon as Caesiumon entered, and the interior of the vehicle began to shift; first elongating, then widening, and then forming rails and seats and even some thin film windows, through which the Elites could further see the complexities moving around them.

Coremon winced, and reached out towards a rail. “I’m assuming these are safe and comfortable?” he whispered to Mollumon beside him.

“You’ve just travelled hundreds of miles in and on top of a giant cyborg terrier. I’d have thought you’d be used to this by now.”

“Yeah, but...I got on with him.” Coremon glanced behind him, lowering his voice further. “Not that this guy’s not nice and friendly but this whole thing is sort of...”

“Distant?”

“...yeah.”

Mollumon pressed his beak. “I understand.”

“So this should be a direct route, no stops, just to the edge of the central district. Are we all prepared for the fast rails?”

Mollumon raised an eyebrow. “What does ‘prepared’ mean?”

“Not liable to drop anything, fall on your heads or fall out of the car once I start this baby up.”

Mollumon choked, and Coremon immediately darted for the nearest seat, as Caesiumon pressed himself into the back wall, his arms outstretched and his eyes glowing with an unnatural glee.

“Spokesward bound!Base Blaze!”

There was the sound of a distant roar, and the entirety of the inside of the shuttle flashed briefly with purple lights. Then, there came the sight of a roaring inferno from the rear of the shuttle, and the entire contraption took off, shooting out of the terminal before anybody could even take a breath.

The sudden jolt caused all three Elites to shoot backwards...just for a millisecond, before the entire floor of the shuttle reared up at the back, the pliable metal holding them like cushions. They adjusted to the speed, and the floor retracted again, leaving the three still standing, if more than a little out of sorts from the sudden acceleration. Mollumon turned his head, giving Caesiumon an acerbic glare. The metal man closed his eyes, his carved grin curling upwards.

“Apologies. I can never resist.”

“We are supposed to be important diplomatic emissaries, you know. I could have words.”

“So could I. I’m pretty sure I heard your serpentine friend call you Wiggles back at the pickup point.”

Mollumon twisted back round, his dull gaze falling upon Serpemon, who merely pointed sideways with a cheeky smirk.

“I like this guy. He gets me.”

The octopus let out a sigh, squatting down and plonking his barrel in the centre of the shuttle. He turned towards Coremon for an attempt at some more intelligible conversation, but the smallest Elite was current planted up against the window, his palms pressed against it as he watched the world beyond.

They were moving at an incredible rate; four times what Komondomon had managed even at his best. The horizon curved in the manticore’s viewpoint, and as the land shot past he watched the hue changing; whites and russets to gentle greens. Far in the distance, he could see the square form of Silicon City, and beyond that the faint shadow of the Stone Halo and the Southern Daggers. Names on a map, so far out of his reach for so long. Coremon reached up to the brooch at his chest, never feeling smaller.

The shuttle veered, passing from one rail to another without a whisper. Coremon watched the rail spin off into the distance, as another one took its place, joining up with their one. Soon more and more seemed to be doing the same; tributaries into the same metallic river, and as the manticore turned to his left he could see the approaching spires of the central Spokes themselves. Jutting out and geometric, like the bones of some lost behemoth, stripped clean and white in the centre of the deep green forests all around.

“ We’re going to slow and pull in. Watch the edges.”

The manticore obliged, rejoining Mollumon and Serpemon as the shuttle was momentarily plunged into darkness. When it re-emerged, it was into an eerie violet light. Caesiumon looked up, before whistling at the three.

“We’re out of the worst of the winds now. It’s only a little while to the central districts. Do you want a better view?”

Serpemon and Coremon nodded enthusiastically, while Mollumon simply huffed in subdued agreement. Caesiumon wriggled slightly, and the walls of the shuttle peeled further away in finger-like strips, revealing the surroundings to all three of the Elites.

It was still bright, with the top film of the central districts thin enough to be translucent, letting in sunlight and moonlight alike. But the entire place was held in the same faint murk, where even the colours that did exist seemed both muted and to be so iridescent as to be near-white. There were more rails here, these ones smaller and far between, but linking up between the districts like the centre of a vast web.

And the districts themselves were a sight to behold. Suspended between ceiling and ground by thousands, if not millions of shining strands, each one perfectly symmetrical and unique in its shape. Fortresses like flower buds, snowflakes, helixes and labyrinths, each one blinking with lights and shimmering with movement from the millions of lives held within.

And in the centre of it all, the greatest of them. Held in position by a shining star, with great spiny tiers and organic hollow structures, all culminating in a twisting bloom at the very peak.

Coremon’s eyes boggled, so much that he had to sit down just to get his orientation straight.

“It’s...it’s beautiful...”

“ Has been for as long as I can remember.” Caesiumon glanced sideways, lowering his head just a little.

“Just be wary you don’t let the beauty distract you.”

Coremon tilted his head, but he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and followed Serpemon’s arm to one of the smaller districts passing by. At a closer look, the perfect symmetry of the blossom wasn’t quite, with rigid black clusters adorning the smooth peaks, and signs of cracks and black markings over the metal. Even the spires holding it up didn’t seem quite right, covered with a dark fuzz, like so many blackfly over a leaf. In fact the fuzz seemed to be moving, and as Coremon looked, he realised that each little speck was a Digimon. Dozens of them, clustered around a single, fragile spine.

The district was covered. No...it was overflowing.

Serpemon placed his hands behind his back, tilting his head up. “We don’t see sights quite like this in our little corner of the world.”

Coremon twisted round, placing a hand on the edge of the shuttle. “Are they all like this?”

“Some are worse than others. But the entire region is facing a crisis, even in the capital.”Caesiumon hunched his shoulders. “They all face it the best that they can, but there’s only so much the structures can take.”

The shuttle veered slightly, and both Coremon and Mollumon glanced down at the base of the Spokes themselves. The gloom did much to hide it, but the evidence was clear; some of the structures had fallen, shattering on the intertwined rods below. A horrific sight, made more galling by the far more numerous clusters of hovels, cubicles and crowded slums.

Another shift, and the sight was gone, obscured by the shining chrome of the main district’s rail. Coremon sat back, holding a palm over his mouth.

“That’s awful.”

“That’s life for so many at the moment.”

“Can’t the Sovereignty do something about it? You can’t just leave your citizens in a state like this.”

There came a throaty cough from Mollumon, holding his head low. “It’s my understanding the Sovereignty’s changed anyway, since this unfortunate business began.”

“It’s not uncommon these days. At least this quartet is active, so we have that to be thankful for, at least.”

“Thankful?”

Coremon held his feet together, straining to keep his voice down.

“Why should any of them be thankful for the bare minimum? The Fire Kingdom doesn’t work like this. We can fix this if they’ll let us.”

He looked back, looking into Caesiumon’s gaunt face, but the metal man didn’t meet his gaze. The manticore felt a nudge on his shoulder, and turned to see Serpemon shaking his head, ever so slightly. Coremon gave him a pleading look, but the serpent pulled him closer, his voice low and dangerously subdued.

“Not here. Not when we’ve just got here.”

“Didn’t you see that?”

“Of course I did. We all did. We all know and we all feel the same. But visceral feelings aren’t going to help us here.”

Coremon closed his lips, looking defiantly up at the serpent, but his colleague’s eyes were deadly focused, his expression firm.

“Keep your nerve. For all our sakes. Please.”

There was a moment where neither of them broke eye contact, tension thick between them. Then Coremon relaxed, and Serpemon followed suit. They shuffled apart slightly, and said no more between them. The entire party travelled in silence, the shuttle still unearthly quiet as it travelled through ever more exquisite archways and boulevards, until finally it slid to a gentle halt in the centre of a large, violet plaza, edged with geometric sculpture and flowing spirals. Caesiumon whistled, and pulled his arms out from the walls of the shuttle.

“Your destination, messrs. I present to you the Spokes Capital District.”

The shuttle dissolved around them, gently placing the three Elites on the smooth ground below. Mollumon wobbled a little, trying to adjust himself to the surface, his ears pulling in slightly.

“I am not a fan of vehicles.”

His flaps flicked up, and he stood up straight, nudging the other two. “It looks like we have company.”

Coremon and Serpemon turned around, watching as a small group of Rinkmon slid gently out from the archway at the end, gliding effortlessly across the silver surface on their bladed feet. Serpemon grimaced, hunching his shoulders slightly. “Wait, hang on, we haven’t done anything yet.”

“I’d see that ‘yet’ should equate to ‘at all’, Fire soldier.”

The voice was familiar to them all; the sultry if slightly judgemental tones of Hamadryamon, as she waltzed in behind the group of Rinkmon. Hasdielmon stepped gently behind her, his wings folded tightly as he maintained a delicate gait through the narrower streets.

Serpemon smiled sheepishly, but Coremon and Mollumon elbowed him simultaneously, and together the three of them descended, lowering their heads in a bow. “Your highnesses.”

The two Sovereigns stopped, both of them holding their hands together and nodding in acknowledgement. Hasdielmon placed a bandaged palm against the ground in front of the three, his armour glinting. “I’m glad to see you’ve arrived safely.”

Mollumon straightened up. “If you’ll allow me, I didn’t expect us to be receiving a royal escort.”

The angel smiled warmly. “You’ve had to take quite a detour, I gather. It’s the least we could do to make up for it.” He glanced up, nodding at Caesiumon. “I trust our transporter has treated you well?”

“Yes thank you. Very efficient, and informative.”

“I’m glad.” The angel straightened up. “Thank you for your service. I’ll let you return to your duty.”

The metal man bowed low, before stepping back, the shuttle reforming itself around him once again. The three Elites turned, watching as the vehicle rose up gently onto the rails again, shimmering with violet flame. There was a pulse, and a silent hum, and it shot backwards, rejoining the network of other shuttles above.

Coremon turned back to the Sovereigns before him, holding his hands together. “Thank you very much for this opportunity to meet with you. We’re very grateful.”

Hasdielmon bowed his head sadly, while Hamadryamon held her arms around her waist. “I do realise we left at an unfortunate point when we last met.” She held her hands together. “We offer our sincere condolences for the elder general. I hope we can work through it.”

Coremon pressed his mouth together, but nodded in return. Hamadryamon straightened up, looking far more radiant now she was surrounded by the chrome and iridescence of her own home.

“We’ve prepared boardings for the three of you within the capital. If you’d like to follow us we can escort you there.”

She began to turn, but Serpemon raised a hand. “Pardon me for asking, your highness, but are the other two Sovereigns not with you? It would be good to meet with you all.”

The dryad bristled slightly, holding a wooden claw up to her mouth. “There will be time. Both Gryllimon and Muscovymon are very busy-“

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Hamadryamon. I think we can persuade them to meet up.”

“Hasdielmon, are you sure?”

The angel placed a hand on his hip. “We have sufficient time, and I’m sure these three have had quite enough of being carted around at everyone else’s request. We’ll stop by the capital building first, greet one another properly.” He rolled his shoulders, his wings shimmering like a cape behind him. “We all need to be open with each other, after all.”

Hamadryamon puffed a cheek out, looking slightly put out by the prospect. Hasdielmon grinned.

“You can give them more of a full tour on the way there. I know you’re good at it.”

“Please, darling, you could be more formal. We have guests.” The dryad flushed a deeper green, before sighing, and turning to the three Rookies. “Very well, if you’d like to follow us. The sovereign capital isn’t too far from here.”

Serpemon grinned, holding his hands on his hips. “Muchly appreciated, your highnesses. Something to keep the nerd here busy.”

“Serpemon, shush.”

Mollumon gave the snake a venomous glare, while Hamadryamon let out a long sigh. “Honestly...I’ll never quite understand how unpolished you military types can be...”

“Now Hamadryamon, they are our guests. Please be nice.”

“I’m always nice. Niceties are my speciality.” The dryad raised two claws to her cheeks, pushing them up into a wide smile to show just how much of a speciality they were. Mollumon and Coremon glanced at each other and mentioned no comment, but before they could think of a reply the dryad’s leaves rustled, and she lowered her arms.

“Hasdielmon?”

“I know.” The angel stood up straighter, his armour glinting. “I know they’re underneath us.”

Coremon tilted his head. “Who are?”

“Potentially some unsavoury business. We heard rumblings this morning.” Hamadryamon turned back to them, and beckoned with a claw. “We should make haste. Stay close to us; we’ll sort out any trouble as it comes.”

She turned around, her dress sweeping behind her as she followed after Hasdielmon. The Rinkmon closed around the three Elites, forming a loose guard around them, as they walked along after the two Sovereigns, all three of them keeping their wits around them as the plaza glistened silently.

They walked slowly through the streets, passing new and varied wonders as they did so; fountains, displays of lights, archways and monuments, all adding a new hue to the dazzling pastels around them. There were Digimon here too; citizens going about their lives, occasionally glancing over at the three newcomers with looks of curiosity or nerve. Coremon couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious, and he pulled his cloak further around him, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

Mollumon and Serpemon seemed to be far more engaged with the new world around, watching with agog eyes as Hamadryamon swung her arms back and forth in great sweeping gestures, taking great pride in every minutiae of the architecture around her.

“Of course, the capital is the oldest district of the Spokes, and many of the places of heritage around you are over a thousand years old. It’s the job of myself, as the pillar of culture, to ensure their preservation, much like my ancestors of the role before me.”

She raised a hand, brushing it underneath her chin, while Hasdielmon walked ahead, smiling to himself but saying nothing. Serpemon whistled, placing his hand behind his back. “It’s been a while since I’ve been here myself. The place just keeps growing, doesn’t it?”

“It’s one of the ancient sites,” chimed in Mollumon, a slight smug tone to his voice. “The Infernal Fortress is the same, as is Silicon City and several other places around the world. There’s a life and a power within the structure itself.”

Hamadryamon sniffed, and folded her arms. “Yes...well, there are no others that hold the very breadth of the Spokes’ power. Even the rail terminals gain power from the deepest part of the capital.”

“It’s the task of the Sovereignty to preserve this place,” said Hasdielmon, glancing back over his shoulder. “Not only the structure, but its people and social standing throughout the world.”

Mollumon turned his head. “You’ve come from a long line, haven’t you?”

“Of course. Well, as a distinct entity we are the 63 ^rd Sovereignty.” The angel held up a palm, closing and opening it. “Members come and go; through age, death, choice...deposition...it’s a complicated history. It goes back to the very first king of this place. Back then, all the ancient sites had singular rulers. But now the world is changing, and we do our best to change with it.”

Hamadryamon sauntered back and forth, before her eyes caught sight of Coremon, who was keeping his head down, glancing all around him. The dryad dropped back a little, holding her hands behind her.

“You have questions. I can tell.”

The manticore swallowed, looking uncomfortable. “This is a beautiful place. But some...of the buildings look a little different.” He glanced off to one side, at a dark, geometric mishmash of panels, hidden between two ornate pillars. “We saw more of them on the way in, on some of the other structures.”

He stole a look up, and noted that Hamadryamon’s pleasant smile had waned, her lips pressed together into a thin line. Hasdielmon turned back, his head low.

“There must be many rumours outside about what goes on in here, mustn’t there.”

“Hasdielmon!” Hamadryamon rolled her shoulders, throwing her head sideways. “There’s a divide here, I won’t deny it. Too many citizens entering the central districts. We’re doing everything we can to improve things.”

Mollumon dropped back, standing aside Coremon. “There’s not much we know, but then again, we’re concerned with our own soldiers. But if you’ll excuse me, some of the situation here is...hard to ignore.”

Hasdielmon placed his hands over his waist. “During the reign of the 62^nd, there was a civil war. The latest out of many in quick succession; members of former sovereignties forcibly pulled away, and a lot of lost lives. Hamadryamon lost one of her predecessors.”

Mollumon glanced up at the dryad, who had her arms folded.

“I’m so sorry.”

Hamadryamon huffed. “You’re not the only ones who’ve lost people you respect and love above all others.” She cleared her throat. “Much of the damage and the crowding is inherent. The wealth of this region was once owned by those at the top, and some sovereignties took everything from those they were tasked with preserving.”

Hasdielmon paused up ahead, closing his fist. “There’s only so much you can take from those you serve before they strike back.”

The three Elites looked at one another, the tension hanging between them all like a dense fog. Coremon tapped at the ground. “But you said yourself you’re trying to make things better, right?”

Hamadryamon lowered her shoulders, staring down at the three Elites. “It’s a slow process. We’re all active within the districts. But old grudges don’t die so easily. There are Digimon out there who despise our existence.”

She straightened up, and turned around, looking at the nearby rooftops. Her gaze fell upon a small, gunmetal figure, sat atop a gutter and looking down at them. It tilted its head, its crimson eyes narrowing.

Hamadryamon stepped back, not breaking eye contact. “Darling.”

“They’re tracking us?”

The dryad nodded, before turning back to the three Elites. “We need to speed up. There’s been building unsettlement around the capital and we need to get you to a safe-“

“Mount Stone!”

The booming bellow made the buildings ring, and it was followed by the sound of resonating and shattering as a volley of jagged rocks came hurtling down towards the group like meteors.

“Get down!”

Hamadryamon held out an arm, the sleeve of her dress expanding out into a whipping whirlwind of vines, absorbing the majority of the stone missiles. A few got through though; shards that chipped against her shoulder and cheeks. She ground her teeth, and gave a sharp command to the Rinkmon.

“Subdue him.”

There was no argument; three of the Rinkmon guards immediately shot off across the silver surface, leaping and gliding up walls as they aimed for the great beast on the roof above. Their assailant – Baboongamon, a hulking shaggy yeti-like creature in a stone mask – growled at the approach, and raised an arm again, flinging out stones in a wide range. One guard was caught off balance, but the other two crossed in mid-air their bodies turning in unison.

“Spinning Cutter!”

“Kusanagi!”

“Moon Night Kick!”

The two guards were thrown down at once, their moves intercepted from two more figures – a lithe Shurimon and a nimble Lekismon – coming from either side. They landed, Lekismon crouching down as his ears flicked back and forth.

“That must be them. The Fire ambassadors.”

Shurimon landed silently, their beady yellow eyes scanning the horizon.

“Which one?”

“Any of them.” Lekismon narrowed his eyes. “Grab the smallest.”

There was a scything sound from behind them, and the moon rabbit jumped up, swinging his legs around in a sweeping motion against the two Rinkmon. Shurimon merely sped forwards, zigzagging wildly and eyeing a gap in the remaining guard’s defense. Hamadryamon stepped forwards, holding her arms wide, but there was a boom and another rain of rocks shot downwards, forcing her to raise her guard up again. Shurimon saw their opportunity; running at full speed and shooting through the gap at the lowest point. Coremon felt the momentary tightening of spring-coiled arms, before he was flung backwards, rolling in a bundle with the cloth-covered assailant. He landed on his back, staring up into Shurimon’s glowing eyes, as the ninja held him down with a single arm.

“ Don’t struggle. You’ll see the truth of this place soon enough.”

The manticore opened his eyes, looking at the arm that held him down. There was a drawn symbol on the underside of the ninja’s left shoulder. One he recognised.

“You’re with HER!”

The Shurimon faltered. “Wh-?”

“SOLAR SPIKES!”

The manticore’s entire body flared up, fury giving him momentary strength. Shurimon shrieked, caught off guard, and leapt back as they tried to douse the flames springing up around them, not realising that they were now out in the open until they heard Lekismon’s panicked cry.

“Shurimon, behind you!”

The ninja ducked, avoiding Hamadryamon’s swiping claw by a hair’s breadth, and rolled out of harm’s way, meeting up with the moon rabbit as they spun around. But the dryad turned, venom in her voice.

“Hasdielmon. Stop them.”

Serpemon and Mollumon rushed over to their fallen comrade, as the great angel stood up tall, holding his bandaged hands out before him as prisms of light began to form.

“ Guilt Construct.”

The shapes expanded, combining and encircling both Shurimon and Lekismon together. The lights pulsed, and in an instant the two went down, clutching their chests as their bodies were held by an immediate, crippling heartbreak.

Hamadryamon sniffed, and walked forwards, twirling serrated vines around her fingers. She’d barely gotten within ten metres when a shadow fell across her, and in an instant Baboongamon landed between her and the two smaller Digimon. She paused, running a hand through her red hair.

“You have some nerve, assaulting a sovereign.”

“You’re no sovereign of ours,” growled the beast, but despite the difference in size he still stepped back, holding his arms up in a purely defensive position. Hamadryamon gave a small smirk, holding both arms up as her claws began to extend into twisted spikes.

“Thanatos Lia-“

“Hamadryamon, no.”

A hand fell upon her shoulder; gentle, but firm, holding her back. The dryad turned her head, letting out a long sigh, as Hasdielmon crouched down in front of the three rogue Digimon.

“You cannot win here. Leave, now.”

“Where are we supposed to GO!” Baboongamon yelled, and he planted a hand against the ground and let off an animal roar right in the pair’s faces. Neither of them reacted, though the cry was loud enough to cause all three Elites to double over in pain.

“Glaciate Missile!”

Lekismon and Shurimon stepped forwards, dragging their comrade back as a projectile struck the ground between them, instantly enveloping the impact zone in a creeping barrier of ice. Baboongamon snorted, and glanced to the side of the plaza.

“They’re here.”

The Fire soldiers turned to the source of the noise, seeing yet more members of the Sovereignty royal guard. Sagittarimon with raised bows, AtlurBallistamon with primed cannons, and at the head, their captain; a large, crimson Frozomon, with a burning blade for one arm and a rack of frost-covered missiles angled down, staring at the rogues with a single, yellow eye.

Beside him, walking along with his cannon arm swinging below him, was Muscovymon. Head lowered so his eyes were hidden by the peak of his cap, and the tails of his cloak billowing out behind him.

Baboongamon huffed, and nudged the two smaller Digimon behind him. “Withdraw. Now.”

With a whirlwind of spins and kicks, they backed away, bounding across the district and between the pristine buildings, barely marked by the assault. Hamadryamon placed a hand on her hip, and glanced up at the rooftop for any sign of any more trouble, but even the little iron bird had disappeared now.

Hasdielmon crouched down, holding a palm out as he made sure the three Elites were okay, while with a clattering and a clunking, Frozomon rolled forwards, flanked by the other members of the royal guard. He stopped, lowering his crimson helm in a mechanical fashion.

“Your highnesses. I trust you were unharmed.”

“As much as always, but thank you for your service.” Hamadryamon ran a thumb around her fingers. “You could aim a little further away from the priceless heritage, you know.”

“I shall bear it in mind, ma’am.”

“That’s a rich one.”

Hamadryamon rolled her neck, giving an acerbic look towards Muscovymon as he strolled forwards, pulling his cloak around himself. “Can’t even make it one mile to the cabinet building without running into issues, huh?”

The dryad smiled sickeningly sweetly. “Where were you? Isn’t dealing with these incidents your job?”

“Why do you think I’m with the guards right now?” Muscovymon rolled a shoulder. “There was another scuffle on the east side that I was dealing with. Doedimon was leading that.”

“That one again?” The dryad held a finger to her teeth, clicking them back and forth. “This is not acceptable...”

“The main thing is that nobody’s hurt.” Hasdielmon turned down, tapping his fingers together sheepishly. “I...um...trust that you’re not too put out by this.”

Coremon was sat up by this point, patting down embers from his shoulders and looking around for inspiration for what to say. But as per his luck, he didn’t need to, as Serpemon glided over and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Alls happens as is, and whatnot. We’re soldiers. We’ve seen worse.”

Coremon furrowed his brow. “Have we...?”

“Ssshshsh now.” Serpemon grinned, squeezing his Elite in arms tighter. “If I may suggest though that we possibly head to a different location in case there’s any chance of a repeat viewing?”

Muscovymon raised a hand to his chin. “I think it’s unlikely right now. But you’re not wrong to be concerned.” He held his lone right arm out, beckoning with a webbed finger. “Come with. We need to prove we can do something right on this visit.”

The three Elites followed him, with the Sagittarimon and the Rinkmon forming a tighter formation around them yet again. Hamadryamon muttered under her breath, and made to follow after, but paused as Hasdielmon tapped her on the arm. She turned, holding her arms behind her back.

“I think we handled that well.”

The angel hunched his shoulders, looking uncomfortable. “Must you be so quick to go for their lives?”

“They’re the instigators, beloved. They take action knowing the consequences.” The dryad lowered her head. “If we don’t stop them, they won’t of their own accord.”

“They’re our citizens as much as anybody else.” The angel looked aside. “We all know their situation as well.”

Hamadryamon held a hand to her mouth, but Hasdielmon coaxed further, a slight hardened edge to his voice. “Please. We have to set an example, or they’ll never respect us. Don’t raise your hand harder than needed.”

“You’re kind, darling. Too kind for this situation.” Hamadryamon reached out, running a palm over his bandaged hand. “But I’ll do my best for you.”

“Thank you.”

Hasdielmon straightened up, opening and closing his palm, before staring back across the road, the slight pockmarks and scuffs the only sign anything had taken place. He clenched his fist, his armour glinting in the mauve light.

“We can turn this place back around, Hamadryamon. I know it.”

Muscovymon’s intuition turned out to be as keen and steadfast as his body, though it may have been due to his broad and general “do not screw with me” presence as he strode at the head of the group. Whatever the reason, there were no further incidents as the group traversed the streets of the capital. The occasional sighting of a citizen, within the dwellings or undergoing errands, though many of them shrank back from the intimidating escort party as they passed.

But within the hour they had finally made it to the main council building, standing as a shining centrepiece of the silver city. Waving rods and flowing pillars spiralling up and twisting around the apex of an ovoid spire, marked with cryptic engravings, though ones that Serpemon pointed out later he recognised as the same archaic language found within the deeper corners of the Infernal Fortress.

Coremon didn’t have quite such the attention to detail, feeling rather overwhelmed by the ostentatiousness of the structure, and even Mollumon found himself shrinking half a head further into his barrel.

Hasdielmon was far more to scale for this kind of building, and he walked up to the great door in front, giving it a singular knock with a broad knuckle. The sound resonated across the sheet, and the Elites gaped as the entire panel seemed to fold away like origami, leaving just a pristine archway.

Hamadryamon looked over her shoulder, smirking as she caught the trio’s reactions.

“How’s that for architecture? No rough gears and inelegant pistons; just singular, intricate knowledge of pure structure.”

Muscovymon gave a brooding quack beside her. “It’s not like you built it, you know...”

“Of course I wouldn’t expect you to understand, oik.”

“Now now, we can get into discussions about doors later.” Hasdielmon placed a hand on his hip, looking decidedly out of sorts. “I’d rather us get in and settled before we get caught off guard again.”

“ Did you have a rough journey here?”

“Gryllimon!”

The angel started, looking down as the smallest of the Sovereignty stood bent over in the centre of the archway, gently fiddling with the bracelets on her forearms. Muscovymon sauntered forwards, one hand on his hip.

“I thought you were in the archives. I didn’t realise you were coming to greet us.”

“I had a hunch you’d be arriving about now. And I’m curious to meet our guests too.” The cricket tilted sideways slightly, and fixed the three with a solemn look from behind her blindfold. “It’s good to see you again. Hopefully under less dire circumstances this time.”

Mollumon popped his cheeks out, and slid a quick quiet word to Serpemon. “Cheery one, isn’t she.”

The serpent grinned. “No, that’s...about right.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Hamadryamon and Muscovymon sashayed in, with the dryad giving a regal twirl, holding a palm out towards the three Elites. “For the duration of your visit, our home is also yours. Please come inside; we can show you to your quarters and then we may discuss many things.”

Gingerly, Coremon stepped forwards, followed by Mollumon, and finally Serpemon, sliding gently before Hasdielmon as the angel closed the door again with a sharp tap of his knuckle. He walked ahead, his wings shivering as he acknowledged the fourth Sovereign.

“We’ll meet in the council room. Should be no longer than an hour.”

The cricket nodded low, her movements slow and almost clockwork. As the angel’s footsteps died away, she straightened up again, and turned to head back to the archives.

“You’ve certainly gone upmarket since I last saw you.”

Gryllimon paused, her antennae twitching as Serpemon’s voice rang against her head.

“You’re...not supposed to rem-“

“Serpemon, stop dawdling. We’re guests here.”

“Coming!”

There was the sound of a smooth sliding, gently dissipating against the metal floor. She looked back, pressing her forelegs together tightly, but her echolocation revealed that the snake was no longer there, rushing instead to catch up with the others.

The cricket clicked, her fingers tapping in an unsettled fashion. Then she pulled her cloak further over her shoulders, and stepped back deeper into the building with a gentle tip-tap.

“How is General Surtremon managing?”

Muscovymon leant back, his hands behind his head and his legs crossed before him. Mollumon fought back the urge to comment on the sovereign’s informal posture, instead holding his tentacles before him. “Distant. Even more so than when he was a commander. But the runnings of the Infernal Fortress haven’t changed much.”

Hasdielmon folded his arms, nodding from his place at the head of the chamber. “That’s the mark of good leadership. The people may change but the vision does not. I’m glad.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The angel twitched. “Just Hasdielmon is fine. Muscovymon may be more familiar with the military address, but this is a royal state, not a martial one.”

Mollumon grimaced, clearing his throat. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Not at all.”

Coremon sat with his shoulders hunched, trying to listen to both Mollumon and Serpemon beside him as they made small talk with the Sovereigns. After the excitement of the journey the three had been shown to their own quarters, before convening in the main council chamber. The place was as exquisite inside as out; serpentine engravings and embosses up the walls, and symmetrical angled panels from the upper rafters, bathing everything in a bright, if artificial glow.

The manticore shuffled, not entirely certain of the protocol in places like this, but as of yet the mood had been decidedly informal. There was space around the central platform for all four Sovereigns, but only Hamadryamon and Muscovymon were seated, and only the dryad was showing any sense of decorum. Hasdielmon kept at a distance, his skirts descended slightly and his hands clasped across his waist, while Gryllimon was folded up on the floor, still tapping her front legs together in incomprehensible patterns.

A bizarre meeting between nations, but it did help to ease Coremon’s nerves slightly. He raised his head, running a paw over the engravings on his brooch. “May I ask a question, if it’s not too complicated?”

Hamadryamon unveiled a palm. “That’s what you’re here for, is it not? For the sharing of minds and information.”

“I, uh...um...okay.” Coremon cleared his throat. “I may be a bit behind the times on this but...how are there four of you and yet you’re all...the king or queen of this place, but together?”

Mollumon blinked, and turned his head slightly. “Didn’t you listen to any of Santelmon’s lectures?”

The manticore shrank back further, but Hasdielmon only chuckled, holding his head forwards. “It’s never too late to learn.” He straightened up. “A bit like your origins, it’s more of a title. We used to have singular rulers, but as you can see, the Spokes is a complicated place to govern.”

Hamadryamon unrolled her fingers, looking at her knuckles. “So a few generations ago it was split. Four pillars, each looking after the citizenry, the culture, the power and the knowledge.”

Serpemon turned towards her. “So how were you chosen?”

“A mixture. I’m a descendent of a previous Sovereign, Gryllimon has been a notable figure within the Spokes for decades, and Hasdielmon and Muscovymon were chosen by us on merit and skill.” She shrugged. “As has been explained it to me multiple times, there’s only so far a nation can get without reaching out.”

“So it’s still a very internal process then.”

The dryad closed her fingers, looking down at Coremon, who had posed the question.

“Leaders must conduct themselves somewhat on their own terms. It’s the same for the Fire Kingdom as well, I understand.”

Coremon could feel her gaze boring into him from behind the golden mask, but he remained sturdy, keeping his voice down. “I understand. It’s just hard to ignore the citizens when they’re as much in your face as the previous ones were.”

Now it was Hamadryamon’s turn to look sheepish, and she scratched at her neck. “There’s dissention in every nation. Although those ones in particular seem to be a special case.”

“I noticed they had a marking or tattoo of some kind?” The manticore tapped nervously against the table. “I remember seeing that same marking on...Sifamon.”

“ It’s an organised rebellion.”

Hamadryamon glared at Gryllimon, but the cricket merely looked up, seemingly unaware of her co-ruler’s scathing look. “The Sovereignty has enemies by its very design. Actions of previous generations have only sparked further uncertainty.” She clasped her fingers together. “There are rumours among them as well, of-”

“Thank you, Gryllimon.”

Muscovymon’s voice cut in, as he leant forwards, resting his cannon arm on the table. “The long and short of it is that there’s long-term civil uncertainty. It’s all internal and it’s all in hand.”

Coremon could now feel the gaze of both Muscovymon and Hamadryamon burrowing into him, daring him to ask another question. But it was Mollumon who piped up instead. “You’ll forgive us for being concerned. This internal civil unrest did seem to bleed out into our own nation.”

“Don’t explain your own nation to me. I’m more than familiar with it; more than you know.”

Muscovymon pulled his cap down, clicking the side of his bill. “The fact is, as long as you’re here with in the Spokes, then you’re targets.” He looked up, his mechanical eye narrowing slightly. “I’m going to be blunt; I think it would be in your best interest if this visit was cut short.”

Coremon blinked, holding his mouth open. “You’re...sending us back?”

“It’s dangerous for you here. The rebellion’s already targeted one of you. We can’t guarantee your protection, and if something happens to one of you…” The duck leant back again. “We must preserve our relationships with the Fire Kingdom. We can’t afford to damage them any more.”

Hamadryamon sat forwards, steepling her hands before her. “I’m of the same opinion. I understand it’s frustrating, you travelling this far to get here. But it really would be in your best interests to leave this place in one piece.”

The words hung heavy in the chamber; damning, frustrating, and yet still somehow not entirely surprising. Coremon pressed his lips inwards, trying to think of some response other than the dozens of knee-jerk reactions going through his head right now, and coming up blank. He looked up, and saw Muscovymon leant forwards, his lone working eye focused on him.

“Would you agree it’s for the best?”

“Is it the best for the Spokes though?”

The two turned to Mollumon, who was sat up straight, his tentacles presented openly before him. “You must know there’s concern outside these walls for your nation. And much though I don’t want to admit it, some rumours are unsavoury. If we can give a more accurate account, then perhaps you may find other nations coming to your support more readily.”

Now it was Hamadryamon’s turn to open her mouth and then hurriedly shut it again, suppressing even her own ego so as not to raise tensions further. Muscovymon was more blasé about it, leaning forwards with his hand against his cheek.

“I’m familiar with the support the Fire Kingdom offers. As kind as the offer is, it may not be suitable.”

“I didn’t necessarily mean armed forces.” The octopus winced. “Lots of precious history round here. The two don’t mix. I understand fully.”

There was a shuffling beside him as Serpemon leant forwards, gazing back into the duck sovereign’s working eye. “You graciously invited us here in a bid to make amends. We want to do our part as well in that. If you’ll grant us leeway as ambassadors while we are here.”

The duck looked unmoved, almost statuesque in his response. But it was Hasdielmon who stepped forwards, placing his palms together.

“I don’t want more animosity.” He glanced at Muscovymon. “I understand your point, but we cannot live forever with swords pointed outwards.”

“It depends how many are facing inwards as well.”

The angel’s shoulder’s stiffened, but Muscovymon held up a palm, pushing himself back. “I merely gave a recommendation. If they are to stay, I will do my best to protect them. The decision is yours, Hasdielmon.”

“It’s all of ours, as you well know.”

Hasdielmon looked up at Hamadryamon, who just maintained a professional air to her. He glanced behind him, where Gryllimon was still tapping away at the floor. Then he sighed, and crouched down in front of the Elites, holding up some bandaged fingers.

“Three days, as discussed. We can show you the workings of this nation, to each of our discretion, and the measures we are taking to curb these issues.” He placed a palm down. “Personally, I fully agree with yours and Surtremon’s sentiments. We can’t survive without reaching out to neighbours. But you were invited as guests and representatives, not as soldiers. We will take action to remove you if we must, for your own safety of course.”

The three saluted, with Coremon bowing his head. “We accepted with that full understanding, your highness. Thank you for your generosity.”

The three reached out, placing a hand each on Hasdielmon’s knuckle, before he straightened up. “The council building is yours to explore, as is the central capital district. For now I’d recommend returning to your lodgings. We can have you escorted to deter further incidents.”

He raised a finger and clicked, and as he did so two Sagittarimon stepped forwards, acknowledging the three. Coremon wanted to politely decline, but he stole a glance at Serpemon instead, remembering his words. They only had a limited time, and they could do anything to jeopardise that.

But he did notice a slight wistful look in his companion’s eye, staring at Gryllimon from across the hall. Her antennae twitched briefly, but she didn’t look up. The snake cleared his throat, and addressed the other three.

“Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be adjourning for now.”

All together, they departed, with the slow clip-clop of the guards beside them. Hasdielmon stood at his full height, watching until they were out of sight as well as earshot. Well, his at least. It was another five minutes of silence before Gryllimon stood up, pulling her hood further over.

“Nobody’s listening.”

Muscovymon and Hamadryamon sole a glance at each other, with the duck rolling his webbed fingers. “Opinions?”

“They’re certainly shrewd.”

“Surtremon’s chosen his warriors well.”

“Now, you two...” Hasdielmon got to one knee, looming over the smaller Sovereigns. “You were goading them, and you know it.”

Muscovymon shrugged. “These pillars we form are supposed to be built on honest opinions, or so it was explained to me when I was chosen. I’m merely exercising my right to express said opinion.”

“You don’t feel any sort of empathy for them? It was your nation too, once.”

The duck pulled his peak down, clicking his bill together. “It’s because I feel for them that I know we need to be wary. Even small soldiers are still soldiers.” He turned his head. “They’re not being completely open with us, that’s for sure.”

The angel sighed, looking for Hamadryamon for support. She raised a thumb to her lips.

“I have my doubts, darling. But I’ll stand by your decision, if you think it’s for the best.”

“I have to, don’t I? I have to speak for the citizenry. Every one of them.”

Hasdielmon stood up, and walked to the open archway, where the twisting spires of the Spokes Districts sat beyond. He held up a trembling hand, and placed it against the sill, holding it with just enough pressure to still it. There was a faint rustling from behind as Gryllimon turned, tiptoeing her way back to the Archives, as she muttered ever so faintly.

“We all have our secrets.”

“Well, reassuring to know that even the best of us have disagreements.”

Mollumon raised an eyebrow, gently flicking a tablet over to read further reams of digicode. “Is that reassuring? Really? They’re leading this place, in theory.”

Serpemon sat back, arms behind his head as he hummed considerately. “I don’t know, I can see the logic; breaking the big job down into four discrete sectors. Means one person isn’t lumped with all the hard work.”

“Again. In theory.” Mollumon rolled one shoulder. “It also means that they all need to talk to each other, otherwise nobody has any idea what anyone’s doing.”

“Which if somebody’s doing something they’d rather nobody know about, it makes it easier to hide it...”

The snake and the octopus looked up in unison, to where Coremon was crouched against the wall of their chamber, running a finger around Muspelmon’s brooch. He started, and pulled his cloak further back. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

“So long as it’s quiet.” Mollumon raised a gaze, and nodded at his smaller colleague. “Well done for keeping a cool head back there. I know some of what they were saying was pretty...blatant.”

Coremon shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s something I need to get used to, or I’m really gonna be no good to anyone.”

Serpemon leant back, peering at the door of their quarters, but the Sovereignty were nothing if not relaxed, or inside the council building at the very least. Serpemon crouched forwards, clasping his hands. “So that’s still our running theory then? That one of them’s our scoundrel?”

Coremon bit at one thumb, unable or simply unwilling to answer certainly. “Some of them definitely don’t want us around, that’s for sure.”

“That could just be the situation though.” Mollumon reached out, angling up one of the tablets he was reading. “We’ve only seen the inside view so far, and not even much of that. We need to gather some actual intel before we can investigate in earnest.”

“So you’ve decided to break out the books again.”

Mollumon bubbled in an irritated fashion, and slid a pile over to Serpemon. “We have three days and no clues. Here’s an idea; why don’t you break open the books and actually help me out?”

Serpemon’s lips curled up, and he casually slid off the wall, completely blanking the tower of tablets in front of him. He stretched, pulling his lips back as he did so to reveal his triangular teeth.

“Nah thanks, I’m a bit more one for a direct approach.”

“Where are you off to?”

“Gonna find me a Sovereign. Sit down. Have a nice chat. Be sociable.” The snake twisted around, fluttering his eyelids. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Neither Coremon nor Mollumon seemed particularly comfortable with the idea, so the serpent just gave them a coy wave, before slithering off outside the chamber. Coremon raised an eyebrow as he watched the other Elite go, while Mollumon just huffed and went back to his own research. The manticore hunched up, resting his cheek on his hand.

“You know, sometimes I wish I could pull off that level of audacity.”

“Please don’t.”

Mollumon sighed, his tentacles going floppy for a second as he stared up at the ceiling in exasperation.

“One day, he’s gonna end up getting every single one of us in trouble.”

Ignoring his burning ears, Serpemon slithered confidently down the corridor, giving offhand waves to stewards and guards alike. He held out a hand, angling himself and making casual left and right turns like he owned the place, with the faint violet glow following him around all the way as he did so.

Even as he wound up in slightly less populated areas of the building, he didn’t break his stride, though he did pause once in a while to hold out a hand against a wall, running a gloved finger over the mysterious etchings. Not mysterious to him, not as somebody who spent just as much time in the depths of the Fire Fortress.

“Master Karatenmon, you really did show me how to pick out the little quirks, didn’t you...”

He carried on, at a slightly slower pace than before, before presently turning a corner and finding himself at the top of a long staircase, traipsing away into darkness down below. Serpemon placed his hands behind his back, leaning forwards coyly as his pupils widened.

“Are you hiding down here, perchance?”

Without even a backwards glance, he edged forwards, and bracing himself against one wall, began to shimmy his way, side to side, down into the depths of the council building.

Head low, arms hunched and fingers poised, Gryllimon might have seemed for all intents and purposes dead to the world. She drew her hands across the tablets before her, feeling the metal ripple beneath her touch, blooming with archaic patterns. She felt the energy humming from all around her; stacks of similar tablets, mirrors, ordered rods of varying lengths, and the other memoranda of the Spokes from dozens of generations. She didn’t know all its secrets yet. She knew she couldn’t hope to touch the surface of the history this place held.

“You look like you’re in your element.”

Her hand froze. Dead still and silently above the tablet, one etching half complete. Her antennae curved forwards, and then back again, as she turned her head slightly. Thanks to her blindfold, the darkness of the archives was of no disadvantage to her, and she could tell exactly the size and shape of the figure standing at the foot of the stairs. Serpemon grinned, and held up a hand.

“You always were amazingly diligent, Jiminymon.”

“I’d be bad at my job if I wasn’t.”Gryllimon replied softly, and she straightened up, splaying her hand on the desk. “Should you really be down here?”

The serpent shrugged nonchalantly. “We were given the freedom of this place. I’m merely taking advantage where I can.”

“Then it seems like you haven’t changed either.”

The two approached one another, Gryllimon looking down upon him, significantly taller even as she was buckled. She reached out, and gently tapped the serpent’s cheek, letting out a small laugh. “How long has it been? You’re all grown up now.”

Serpemon blushed, pulling his shoulders in. “I almost didn’t recognise you, back at the ceremony. But when you met us here again I was sure.” He reached up, cupping his cheek. “I...thought you might have let me know what happened to you. You disappeared on me.”

Gryllimon sighed, and pulled back, the large bows on her legs twitching.

“I had duties. Responsibilities.”She pointed up, brushing a hand over her blindfold. “The world got too busy very quickly, and I needed to concentrate. So I’m here, preserving history. That’s all.”

“Is that after what happened with Dallurmon? And the others-“

“Please don’t.”

The cricket turned before he could finish, holding her hands out of sight. She raised one, pressing it against the side of her face. Serpemon merely stared.

“My memory’s...a bit hazy these days. I can’t even remember how much of it was real. Or how I ended up where I did.” He clasped his hands together. “I remembered you in a split second though. Remembered how much I missed working with you, even if it was under that...terrible person. It would be good to try anew...I thought.”

Gryllimon said nothing in response. But her hood rustled, as she gently shook her head.

“Perhaps we’ve both changed more than I thought.”

She turned, placing her hands against the desk as she leant over it.

“My duty is here. My future is here. I can’t return to that past and neither can you. We should just accept that, before it breaks either of our hearts.”

She stared ahead, not looking back at him. Despite how good her echolocation was, she couldn’t see just how much his face had fallen.

He opened his arms, beckoning an embrace, but she held her palm up, stepping back as she did so.

“Your friends will be lonely without you, Neonamon. Stay with them.”

Serpemon swallowed, holding his hands low before him. Then he turned, slithering gently back towards the staircase. For a moment he looked back into the darkness, his crest drooping slightly.

“It was good to see you again, Jiminymon. I won’t forget you.”

Gryllimon just stood in the darkness, waiting until the sound of his tail on stone gently faded away. She leant back, and raised a hand to her face, clamping it over her beak.

“ I never forgot you either...”

Her fingers clamped, and moved up to her blindfold, pressing in. And she allowed herself a silent scream, just as the visions came back again.