Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

29

The clock on the bedside table begins to ring, and George jumps, his pen dragging across the page and leaving a jagged trail of ink in its wake.
He groans, looking at the ruined exercise sheet filled with careful copies of the glyphs used in the End's alphabet. Pushing his chair out and setting his pen down, George stands up. He leaves the room he had been studying in.

The halls are empty of servants, empty of anyone except him, and he wanders in search of Clay, seeking his company. It's been several hours, longer than usual, and on some level George is worried. It's likely just a meeting dragged on too long, but he still worries. How could he not? Clay clearly has enemies, many of them, as any noble does.

He drifts to the meeting room, and finds it empty, the table neatly cleared of papers. George wrinkles his face in confusion, and decides on the gardens this time. Surely Clay didn't leave the palace without telling him?...

He wracks his brain for a memory of the other telling him, or anything— but the past several hours are undisturbed studying. The last time he had seen Clay was that morning before he left to attend to his duties.

They had parted with Clay placing a sweet kiss on George's forehead and reminding him to ask if he needed any help, telling him where he would be—the meeting room. Where he clearly wasn't at the moment...

George steps out onto the balcony, looking over the gardens for any sign of people moving around. He's sure he'd be able to pick out Clay in his royal regalia and distinctive mask; the balcony isn't that high up.

The sky over the town seems to be moving at first glance. George narrows his eyes, and realizes it's filled with creatures he recognizes from the Overworld— Phantoms. Or, they look like Phantoms at the least.

They circle like vultures, descending slowly on the town and George leans further on the railing, straining his vision.

What could they be doing? And why here? I thought they didn't spawn in this place?

He hears footsteps behind him, and turns to see a tall, elegant Ender being stepping out onto the balcony with him. Curiously, he watches as they bow to him, and respectfully inform him,

"I've been sent to fetch you on behalf of the prince. He sends his regards and apologies for being tied up so long." George relaxes, relieved by the news.

"Where is he? I've been looking for him all over the palace." They smile placidly, and blink their bright blue eyes at him.

"Follow me. Like I said, I've been sent to fetch you." George is a little perturbed by this; it's a simple question, unless there was trouble they should've been more forthcoming with the answer. Regardless, he swallows his concerns, chalking it up to cultural differences.
They could be patronizing me since I'm technically a lower rank than them. I'm not even officially Clay's consort, after all— he wanted to keep it secret how important our relationship was so there was no chance of either of us getting hurt for it.

He follows them through the halls, still noting the prominent absence of any other servants roaming the halls. Slowly, he becomes more tense, his hunter's instincts insisting something is wrong with this situation.

There's more here than meets the eye, he thinks decisively, hand creeping towards the dagger Clay gave him, currently tucked away in its sheath under the bottom of his tunic. It won't help much in a fight, but if he needs to use it, he wants to be ready.

He feels his spine prickle as he watches his guide, noticing some sort of...odd, writhing motion under their shirt as they stop by a door. Something bad is going to happen if I'm not ready to act as soon as that door opens.