PLEINE LUNE

          All is calm in the building; as calm as a mafia family could be anyway, lax in the knowledge that if anyone were to enter unwisely, they’d be dealt with swiftly, while prepared to pick up their guns at that provocation. And Nehan ignored every member as he walked the hallways, having worked for too long to get where he is, aiming to avoid all the aimless chatter. All is calm…

          Until suddenly it’s not, with the crash of glass breaking, someone breaking through one of the large windows of the estate – without a damn care, as if already they weren’t being shot at, zipping through the bullet parade easily. 

“Not at all, monsieur!” Vanitas calls, lacking any delicacy as usual. He swings down to the opposite side of the rail from the stairs, and drops to the floor. He pauses for a second to bite his tongue and hit someone over the head as hard as he could manage with the pommel of the knife. “And besides, you’re mistaken about my aim.” With a flourish---thankfully, no one is quite so close to him now---Vanitas places his unarmed hand on his chest. 

      As circumstances would have it, his vassals became wrapped up into yet another realm of affairs not concerning their own goals. Percival doesn’t mind, of course, as he’s told them before, he is actually welcome to having more idiots with such an attitude toward others. As one possessing strength himself, he’s made it his own mantra to help those in need.

       The trouble they’re wrapped in this time was a curious one, as a kingdom unbeknownst to him at all, and he considered himself well-read on at least the other kingdoms of the skyrealm. It’s curious how it popped up so suddenly, and that might be why Lyria and the Captain were so insistent that they attend to this new kingdom’s affairs. Especially as the one latching onto a crown of a future kingdom, it may be his duty to observe other nations.

He raises an eyebrow as he’s approached, crossing his arms over his chest. A knight, it seems, of the ship’s proprietor---and one who has correctly deemed him as being in charge. Points. Still, he’s loath to explain, since that’s supposed to be someone else’s job, but if he wants it done right, he’ll have to say it himself. “My own kingdom? Far from it,” he scoffs. “Were Uruk now among the lands of this world, it would no doubt be much grander. No, this is some other kingdom entirely, most likely assembled under some entity with the aid of the Holy Grail.” He pauses for a moment, considering. It is quite quick, to him, for the Master of Chaldea to already have come to an agreement with this motley crew of skyfarers, as they have termed themselves, but...