Colonel Lindsay de Martel watched silently from her post as Geoffroi Jean de Gaetane, the Emperor of Rhin-Lotharingie, silently circled the massive map projection table.

The war room of the Oriflamme Palace was empty, except for the Emperor and a squad of royal armigers from the Highland Guard. The elite knights were all well-practiced in the art of being seen but not heard. Only Geoffroi's heavy footsteps resounded across the spacious room as he paced around the table display.

The Emperor was clearly in a pensive mood today. And Lindsay couldn't blame him as news from the frontlines had been mixed over the past week.

On the Inner Sea front, the Cataliyan army withdrew behind the Ròse River after Marshal Cosette destroyed their support fleet. This brought a much needed if temporary reprieve to the Army of Garona. And thanks to Pascal's quick work in logistics, the first supply convoy was already well on its way to the front. By the time the Cataliyans advanced again, the Kingdom of Garona's capital of Narbonnaise should be provisioned and reinforced -- its fortifications ready for a protracted siege.

In the center, the sworn 'Trio' -- Gervais, Laurent, and Edgard -- had stopped the Tauheed forces in the second line fortresses guarding the South Lotharingie Mountain passes. Weeks of nonstop fighting along narrow, treacherous mountain roads had left both sides exhausted. However, now that snow has arrived and the mountain passes were beginning to close, the chances of a Cataliyan breakthrough before next Spring was dropping to nil. That should give the 'Trio' plenty of time to reorganize and replenish losses.

It was the situation in the west that the Emperor remained worried over.

Edith's defeat in last week's battle had proven to be less severe than they first thought. Another fifth of the army had trickled back in since their loss, bringing their numbers up to nearly seventy percent of their original strength. The lady-knight whom the troops affectionately dubbed Estelle the Polar Cross might not have a great sense of strategy, but her ability to inspire was second to none. Most armies began to disintegrate after a major defeat, yet Edith managed to keep morale up to the point that many stragglers regrouped and rejoined rather than desert.

However, the loss of King-Consort Armel also proved more serious than expected. The death of her beloved husband hit Queen Katell of Avorica particularly hard. The pregnant queen had holed up in her room since then, declining to see anyone except her maid and refusing to do anything except eat and sleep.

With one royal dead and the other incapacitated by grief, the Kingdom of Avorica was paralyzed at a moment when leadership was needed most. It didn't help that several prominent nobles had also been killed in the previous battle, including three members of the privy council. Combined with losses from other skirmishes, this left the council lacking the authority to govern in the absence of their queen -- which meant Edith could not expect any further mustering of reinforcements from Avorica.

Then, perhaps worst of all, Geoffroi's spies in the Kingdom of Ceredigion reported that the combination of Edith's loss and Avorica's paralysis only further convinced King Elisedd to stay out of the conflict. This meant that two of the four subsidiary kingdoms under the Empire of Rhin-Lotharingie had already been rendered useless to the war effort. Meanwhile the northern Kingdom of Gleann Mòr still couldn't mobilize due to the onset of winter, and would stay that way until late next spring.

Determined to prevent a catastrophe, Emperor Geoffroi had stripped the capital and its surrounding territories of every soldier that could be spared. Even the palace guards had been reduced to a measly hundred. Everyone else had been sent off to the Avorican front, along with most of the remaining food in the local granaries.

Lindsay was the only high-ranking commander who remained behind. She was now responsible for protecting both the palace and the city with just a hundred men-at-arms and the city's militia. They were spread so thin that it would be laughably easy for assassins to sneak past, especially Imperial assassins: the renowned Mantis Blades, who recently added the Marshal of Weichsel to their long list of victims.

This was why she stood in this war room at the very moment. Lindsay had been following the Emperor every hour of every day since she had been left in charge, even sleeping against his bedroom door.

Actually, that only happened once.

Geoffroi had angrily told her that since she insisted upon being there, she could either sleep in one of the adjacent royal family bedrooms or he would drag her into his own.

His blue-violet gaze had been completely serious too.

Lindsay certainly did not forfeit her duty just because of a threat from her sovereign. Royal Armigers were not chosen for a lack of personal integrity. But even rumors of having an affair with the Emperor would surely destroy her reputation and career. Perhaps even worse, it would ruin her relationship with Crown Princess Sylviane -- her pupil in the martial arts whom she had come to see as almost a younger sister.

That left her with only one choice.

The nearest bedroom belonged to Geoffroi's deceased wife, who died ten years ago yet her personal effects were still perfectly maintained. With no intention to intrude upon such a sanctuary, Lindsay borrowed the next room instead, which belonged to the Princess.

Sylviane would just have to forgive her in these unusual times.

I wonder how Her Highness is doing in Nordkreuz...

Lindsay's attention soon snapped back to present as Joyeuse -- the cerulean phoenix perched on Geoffroi's shoulder -- stretched out her wings and squawked a sharp warning.

"Blaze Ignition."

Without hesitation, the Emperor called upon his phoenix before activating the arming pendant he wore over his heraldic surcoat. A cascade of brilliant-blue mana poured out of the pendant's sapphire centerpiece and engulfed his body. Within three seconds, the mana that wrapped around his body condensed into smooth, hardened surfaces, before evaporating into the air to reveal a perfectly-fitting suit of full-plate armor that covered his muscular bulk.

The phoenix Joyeuse was also no longer in sight. Instead, the white-blue embers that drifted off the Emperor gave clear evidence to their unison.

Meanwhile Lindsay, like every other armiger in the room, already wore her armor. She merely stretched out her right hand, activated her extra-dimensional storage glove, and felt the sturdy chains of a heavy meteor hammer erupt into her fingers.

"Wards!" She ordered as they weaved one defensive spell after another upon themselves.

Lindsay strode forth in her armored boots, but had yet to reach the entrance when the heavy mahogany doors crashed open. They revealed a frantic armiger in bloodstained plate mail clutching his wounded neck.

"We're under---"

That was all he managed to croak out before another man in white full-plate rushed up from behind and rammed a longsword through the chink beneath his cuirass.

Silence Field, Lindsay instantly recognized the signs. There was no other way a man could dash forth in heavy plate without making a single sound, even though she stood no more than five meters away.

"Negation Surge."

Before the assailant could even finish pulling out his sword, a studded sphere of metal smashed into his white helmet. The antimagic spell discharged and tore a hole through the crusader's defensive wards before the helmet was pulverized against the door. With his skull crushed, the swordsman collapsed to the floor alongside the Lotharin armiger he had just killed.

Lindsay retrieved the mace-like head of her meteor hammer with yank on its chain. For a moment she continued to stare at the corpse, alarmed yet puzzled. The intruder wasn't dressed like a Mantis Blade by any means. In fact, he wore white plate armor with gold stripes.

...A Knight Templar.

Her eyes sprang wide with dismay as apprehension struck. Templars did not infiltrate castles to assassinate. They were a battlefield force who crushed their enemies wholesale.

They were also the paramilitary branch of the Papal Inquisition, whose greatest current foe just happened to be the excommunicated Emperor standing behind her.

How many of them are within the Palace already? And just how did they get inside?

Lindsay's first question was answered within the minute as a chorus of clanking steel emerged from just down the hall.

There was no longer any purpose for the enemy to hide their numbers.

Their surprise had been total and complete.

The next templar through those doors blocked her flying meteor with a CLANG from his heater shield. But instead of charging straight at her, he fanned off to one side, followed by seven other shielded knights to form a 'V' just inside the door.

With their beachhead established, dozens more poured through. They spread out towards both flanks, threatening to envelope the defenders in the center of the room. Yet despite their absolute advantage in numbers, despite losing yet another head to Lindsay's meteor hammer, not a single one charged forth to attack.

What are they waiting for?

Pressured by their numbers, Lindsay fell three steps back to the defensive chevron her royal armigers had formed.

It was a desperate gesture of resistance. They were twelve against dozens, with what sounded like hundreds more just waiting outside. These were no lowly soldiers either. Every one of them wore plate mail of the highest quality, affordable to only a proper knight-brother of the Templar Order.

How did they...

Lindsay had yet to finish her thought before a familiar figure stepped through.

"Gabriel," Geoffroi's stiff voice rang out from behind her. "You traitorous bastard."

The lean and handsome prince stopped between the two V-wings of templars. His armor was pristine. His white clothes were impeccable. His plum-black hair and blue-violet eyes made him look every bit like the Emperor's younger brother. Except Gabriel was actually the older of the two, who had been passed over for Geoffroi due to his failure to summon a phoenix.

The traitorous duke wore a sad yet beautiful smile, as though nostalgic over the sight of an old friend. His cuirass displayed the same Gaetane heraldry as Geoffroi's own. However his hands did not hold a mace or some other crushing weapon -- as would be expected of most noblemen from central Rhin-Lotharingie -- but a sleek arming sword of the Church. Countless tiny, floating crucifixes of glowing gold surrounded him in a sphere of brilliant light, marking his new status as a champion of the faith.

So much for your 'reinforcements', Lindsay thought bitterly.

With most of Rhin-Lotharingie's intelligence efforts directed south, Gabriel could have easily hid the templars within his army as 'mercenaries'. They were marching south to join the front lines, and took the riverside road that passed Lake Alise. Lindsay wasn't exactly sure how Gabriel brought hundreds of men across the lake unnoticed. But with the Capital's garrison so understaffed, even a single bribed sentry could open a doorway of opportunity.

This was especially true when the Pope had swayed countless devotees against His Majesty.

Once those templars were on the island, there was no stopping them. The royal prince who led them did not just grow up here. He had once accompanied the adventurous young Geoffroi in all sorts of mischief. The two of them knew every nook, cranny, and secret passageway coming in and out of the palace grounds.

“Mother had always favored you,” Gabriel said with a wistful smile. “So please do not be so unkind towards her heavenly soul.”

"No, you were adopted," Geoffroi declared straight. "Our parents simply never had the heart to kick you back out."

Really?

Lindsay blinked in surprise before taking Geoffroi's words into consideration. For a moment she had believed his statement for real.

"Save your bad jokes, Geoffroi. I am here to request your surrender and abdication."

"Which Emperor has ever surrendered to a pretender and failure?" Geoffroi retorted with scathing words as he deployed his heavy weapon from extradimensional storage and slammed its butt onto the stone floor.

The Emperor's custom goedendag was a steel-shafted polearm built like a halberd. It had a studded cylindrical mace beneath the long spike. Attached to the mace's side was a crescent blade, jutting out like a pair of bull's horns.

"Which Emperor has ever been excommunicated by his head of faith?" The brother rebutted, all traces of his smile vanishing behind a stern and sorrowful gaze. "You have already broken the law of kings. Had you not turned your back on the Holy Father who entrusted you with this realm, I would have no need to demand your crown."

Yet despite facing such accusations, the Emperor began to chuckle. It soon grew to a deep, derisive laugh that revealed his incredulity and contempt for the irony of the situation:

"So that gold-draped puppet, His Holiness, decided that you were a better alternative? You, who failed the phoenix's test three times!? You, who fled from your duties as a prince of the realm decades ago, to bath in idolatry after retiring to an insignificant land!? You, whose hermaphroditic character contained neither the steadfast decisiveness of men nor the sensible judgment of women? Ha!"

Emperor Geoffroi barked another laugh as he gently pushed Lindsay aside and stepped in front of his guards. White-blue flames radiated from his muscular body and splashed against the glowing shields of the templars, forcing them to cautiously take a step back.

"You were never fit to rule, Gabriel, and I can tell you why." Geoffroi continued. "Because the phoenixes knew, just as I did, that you are a cynical, faithless sinner. A homosexual, impregnated by the Devil's lust and devoid of the Holy Father's grace. Yet the Church would pick you for a champion? Just whom is it that the den of corruption represents now!?"

A few of the Knights Templar turned their armet helmets, glancing towards their leader in question and doubt. However most of them never even hesitated.

Neither did Duke Gabriel.

"Has your conscience deserted you to madness, Geoffroi?" The pretender softly asked through a mask of pity. "Does my long and loving marriage not speak for itself? Or are you so corrupted that you hear naught but the Devil's slander? Arrogant enough to believe yourself superior in judgment to all the lords who stand with me, even the representative of the Holy Father himself?"

"What lords," Lindsay spat out in anger. "Those not hoodwinked by your lies are clearly all traitors like yourself!"

"A true patriot does not side blindly with tyrants, Milady," Gabriel's eyes softened as they shifted onto her. "I have no wish to antagonize House Mackay-Martel. I respect your devotion, but it is wasted on such an apostate. Please stand aside. I personally guarantee you and your knights an honorable surrender and safe return to your lands."

"The Guard dies! It does not surrender! Certainly not to vermin like you!" she declared as her right hand continued to twirl the mace-like head of her heavy meteor hammer.

"As you wish," Gabriel replied back with a slight bow before issuing his order:

"Send them all to Purgatory."

"To Hell with you first!" Geoffroi cried out as he raised his goedendag off the ground. "Flamebreak!"

A corona of white-blue fire burst forth from the Emperor's armored body, expanding outwards to engulf row after row of crusader knights. Inside the nimbus of a maximum-power eruption of Joyeuse's cleansing flames, the mana fueling the templars' wards combusted and dissolved in the fire. Although their pristine armor remained untarnished, the horrid screaming of dozens divulged the truth beneath. Their bodies had been immolated across every centipace of skin, and every one of them was overwhelmed by pain as they were roasted alive.

Meanwhile, not a single one of Geoffroi's own armigers showed any sign of injury.

Seizing the moment, the Emperor dashed forward and smashed his mighty polearm into the traitorous duke. But instead of crushing the thin-shouldered man like tomatoes under a hammer, Geoffroi's weapon struck one of the floating crucifixes and was brought to a sudden halt.

The tiny little cross hardly budged by a finger's width, just as a sphere of them had easily repelled the phoenix's flames.

How...?

Lindsay doubted her eyes even as she sprang into action. The Emperor's flames might have destroyed the templar vanguard, but an unending stream of armored knights now poured in through those open gates. Two other sections of wall also turned to dust under Disintegrate spells, further opening the room to assault.

It was now up to her and the other armigers to protect His Majesty's flanks, for as long as they could.

Oriflamme Paladins were unparalleled warriors on the battlefield. But just as all other beings, they had a critical shortcoming: the flames of their bonded phoenix were not inexhaustible. The Flamebreak spell which unleashed all of a phoenix's reserves was meant to be a Paladin's final trump card, as it often took a week for their familiar to recharge after such an exhaustive discharge. Geoffroi had clearly gambled on a quick decapitation of the coup's leader.

Unfortunately the traitor Gabriel was also aware of this, as he too had been raised as a Prince of the Empire. There was no doubt he came prepared, including the secret weapon that he had just displayed.

"The Sword of Fortitude, quite worthy of its name," Gabriel announced as though bragging while he tossed the arming sword into his left hand. "So long as both me and my men are determined to achieve justice, neither steel nor spell may touch my hallowed being."

It was an artifact of Conceptual Magic -- a relic of the dragonlords' highest sorcery.

"Then I just have to slaughter your men until they break!"

The Emperor shouted as he swung his weapon with magically-enhanced strength, smashing two fully-armored knights into a nearby wall before parrying Gabriel's sloppy thrust with his polearm shaft.

"Before the Defender of the Faith and the will of the Holy Father, these templars face no death, only salvation," Duke Gabriel stated as his right hand reached back to pull out a spiked mace from his belt.

"How many times can you keep swinging that thing, Geoffroi? Because it won't be enough."