Compared to the barren north the southern regions of Muspelheim were more lush and rich.

The difference was marginal at best, but it was still more than enough to incite envy from their neighbours upwards of Saturn.

Three figures walked these lush lands due east of the City of Artemis.

They marched together with an escort of around twenty men for each.

One among the trio was clad in gold and red, the second however wore white and black while the last wore garments of green and blue.

The first two figures were tall, but the last one was small.

The wind blew across their shrouds, unveiling their forms.

The tall gold and crimson robed figure bore deep fire coloured hair and tan sun kissed skin, he was brawnier than his leaner neighbour.

The second tall figure then, the aforementioned lean one, had emblems of the moon dangling from his frame and long black hair combined with sharp facial features.

He had no hair upon his face, not even a shadow of a trace, but he appeared handsome in a fairly different manner from his wilder looking neighbour.

Lastly there was the short figure, short because she was the sole woman among the four Lords of Muspelheim’s South-Eastern Region.

Upon her hair was worn a silver ornament, which seemed to tie it all into a bun for travel.

She did not adorn herself overmuch either, but clad as she behaved, in a sensible and conservative manner not too dissimilar to Rusalka in the north.

This unusual trio marched together with their guards until the distant stone doors of Artemis appeared before their journeyed eyes.

The Lady of Ceres was glad for it, since she would never admit that her ankles were already long screaming in pain.

She turned to face the two men starting with the one bearing a fiery mane.

The Lord of Sol, Solomon was his name.

That great lion-like man clapped down his palm upon the lean man’s shoulder in his usual jovial manner.

She recognised the lean man too, for he was the oft touted pretty boy in the circles she was familiar with frequenting.

The Lord of Luna, whose name was Arcadian.

“I’m looking forward to some of that good old Artemisian Wine,” Said the Lord of Sol.

Meanwhile, his companion but smiled faintly, so faintly she couldn't tell at first he'd even done it.

The Lady of Ceres took a step to distance herself as the chummy Lord of Sol continued to shake the patient and still smiling, Lord of Luna on his shoulder.

“You me, Aden and the lads, just like the old times back during the war, eh?”

“Indeed, I miss the days where we fought for our lives every day and couldn’t sleep without wine to knock us out,” The Lord of Luna said with a sarcastic smile.

His tone was in no way trying to hide how he did not miss those bygone days at all, but the Lord of Sol was undaunted.

“You jest, old friend, but do not forget, it was those very struggles that made us boys into the men we are today...the youth nowadays.”

Then off he went, the Lord of Sol began to lament the folly of modern youth, to which even The Lord of Luna could only sigh.

The war back then had indeed been vicious, Ceres' Lady knew at least that much.

These two men must have watched countless peers perish one by one.

They saw many fathers die, including their own, then came home to weeping mothers.

Yet through it all the Lord of Sol still held a smile.

The Lord of Luna didn’t mind, such was his old friend’s manner.

Smile, even as your loved one’s leave you, smile, jest and laugh, let no one see you feeling sad.

The Lady of Ceres glanced at them, these two men, and then she scoffed.

Unlike them, she had no fond memories of the war at all.

She recalled only coming downstairs to see her mother crying at the news of her father’s death in battle.

Then the later additions of her sons to the count of casualties sent that woman over the edge.

Camilla had to wonder, was she ever in that woman's eyes at all?

Why'd she have to leave her too? Even if everyone else passed away? Why didn't she choose to stay?

Regardless, that was how she wound up as the governess of her city, she was the last of her line.

Countless men sought to wed her.

They wanted to rule the city, yet, in the end, she did not yield her crown.

She wouldn't let anyone have it, no one but her deserved it.

Because it was all she had left.

That was why she was unwed, despite her age at twenty two.

That was why she saw neither glory nor honour in war, and she never would.

“You’re both such proud patriots, to shed blood for your country,” She said with venomous sarcasm, “So do enlighten this young girl...why would you two accept Lord Aden’s invitation?”

The two men faced her then.

The Lord of Sol kept smiling, but Luna’s Lord gave a reaction much more stern in nature.

“I love my country, understand? But...sometimes, there needs to be changes at the top,” Said the Lord of Sol, to which The Lord of Luna kept his council.

Though the Lady chose to scoff at those words she could not deny that her own plight was much the same as he'd said.

She could not trust the current Sovereign one bit.

Julius of Jupiter, that deranged individual was a ticking timebomb as far as the noble caste cared.

The boiling point for these two men specifically then must have been this: their loyalty to the crown became detrimental to the country, or to the people living in their care.

The boiling point for her however was something of a decidedly more personal nature, though it was no less linked to their vile monarch than their matters.

Her city at the end of the day was nothing more than a port connecting their lands with the City of Neptune on the other side of the continent through trade and fishing practices.

The City of Ceres didn’t even have much of a standing army because they didn’t have many common threats save the occasional pirate.

Sol and Luna, however, were another matter entirely.

There was even a saying about those two cities.

That saying went as such: that if Saturn was the Shield of Jupiter and Artemis is the Bow, then Sol and Luna are the Sword and the Knife.

The meaning was clear; Sol had the soldiers, Luna had the assassins.

For him to have made even these people an enemy only showed just how corrupt and broken the capital had become under Julius’ rule.

The Lady raised her head at last as the city gates of Artemis opened up before them.

She stood at the helm of their sixty man strong party and peered forward as solid stone slid across the earth to reveal a familiar figure.

The Lord of Artemis, Aden, a man in his late thirties yet standing rugged as a young Adonis, stepped forth to welcome them.