A silent night. The snow has settled into a shimmering, heatless blanket; but no more will fall. With the full moon falling, the sky is of the deepest shade of blue before black. In name only, Winter's Crown has already begun. But it's two hours till sunrise; two hours till the children wake and dash to their little trees, in hopes of the little boxes of joy beneath. Some of them will take them for granted while others will sing thanks to the Red Rogues of yore. Until then; they slumber and they dream, oblivious to their heroes' plight.

Two cloaked figures sprint through a quiet aqueduct, cracking the frozen flow beneath their feet. The one behind stumbles and falls, his cloak falling onto the ice. It's one of the smugglers, escaping.

The other stops for just a moment, to face her companion. Her voice is as urgent as her gait. "Get up! They're still after us!"

She wouldn't have afforded him another second. But she delays as something draws her attention - and the other's. For a harsh, blue light is banishing the shadows around them, growing stronger and more prominent like the rising sun. They each look over the aqueduct wall, to see a great mote of lite like a twinkling star, rising into the sky. And there it halts, and there it hangs, casting its glow over the city, shining through the windows and cleansing the darkness of the night^[1].

---

Veliky stares up at the little star, a cold fire burning in her eyes. Her right arm is still raised, and she's not three steps from the edge of the rooftop. Behind her stands, at attention, her construct militia. They're ready to receive their orders, and the intent in her deportment as Veliky turns shows that she's ready to give them.

"Listen up!" Her command is the only sound for a hundred metres around. "The night's just getting started. We've still got crooks running rampant, and it's our civic duty to round them up and ensure that they get what they deserve."

Snow crackles underfoot as she marches between two aisles of attentive Blixtbots™. Although they dwarf her, their subservience is as obvious as her authority. Her shadow, cast long by the eerie light above, is just as strong in stance and stride.

"Search zone is centred here, out to three-thousand feet. Make no mistake: we might be taking prisoners, but this is a manhunt. Threat level's Copper. Be relentless."

Having reached the end of the lane, she turns on her heel and repeats her march in inverse. So precise are her paces that the fills the same footprints, and the plain anger in her face is a barrier against the chill.

"Primary target is a female moon elf. She's demonstrated spellcasting capabilities, as well as an expertise in stealth. Probably a shadow dancer. We don't know what she looks like or what her name is, but reports indicate that she's in possession of an active BFF-Series unit. Due to the BFF's programming, it's probably already imprinted on her. Keep that in mind if you see it. But other than that?" She reaches the spot where she began, by the roof-edge, and turns. "Shouldn't be a threat."

She does one final sweep of the bots assembled. They lost the Bishop in the warehouse battle, but they managed to grab a replacement from another series: a Magus unit, stood beside the rest. It's a mostly unremarkable humanoid frame, save for the cowl-like fabric that adorns its head and the twinned gemstones embedded in its chest. And with its magic, she can't think of a stronger spare.

They're an elite force. She knows that as long as she's at the reins, they'll be unstoppable.

"Our targets will be keeping to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight." With a thumb, she gestures to the miniature star behind and above her. "Thus why we've brought a light. Now, normally, a mission like this would be impossible without an aerial view..."

Across from her, something ominous glints in the starlight. Its tin form looms like the promise of death, and its crimson lenses are nearly as great as dinner plates. And as it steps forward, metal talons scrape across the frost^[2].

"...Fortunately, that won't be a problem."

---

The streets are bathed in the otherworldly light that shines from above. Few places are free from its radiance, and fewer are without penumbra. It's like an eye of the heavens themselves, seeing all and judging without remorse. The silence only worsens the feeling of unbridled cold.

But not everywhere is silent. From a lonely alley, only half-illuminated by the glow, a soft weeping sounds. It is not a sorrow of mourning, nor fear, nor pain nor guilt. But, between the wavering breaths, its sorrow is clear as day. There; in the gentle penumbra of dull blue; sits Yoci, with her little glasses sitting in the snow beside her. Her back is to the heatless wall, and her face is pressed against her cradled knees. She isn't dressed for the cold, and her shivering legs tell that she's far from accustomed to it. Yet there she sits, nevertheless, waiting for the tears to cease their flow...

---

1. North Star
2. Silent Night-01

Bringing Minions
Bishop-12 (Warlord)
Rook-13 (Warlord)
Tropos-01 (Sky Domain Apprentice)

Bringing Pets
BF-02 (The Goodest Boy)
Silent Night-01 (Snow Owl)

“Um…. Ma’am? Are you alright?” Cirice asks awkwardly, draped in her snuggle, wandering around alone in the snow and trying to figure out what to do now that their operation was a bust. Zarius is going to be pissed. She’d been trying to find the fleeing smugglers and make sure everyone was healed after the battle with the constructs and instead stumbled upon the figure shivering in the snow and clearly upset. “You look really cold…” She stops and sits down against the wall next to the gnome, shuffling the little metal dog in her arms to sit between them, and carefully wraps her in one side of the snuggle to warm her up. Unsure if that will be enough she creates a small fire¹ at their feet to cast merry light all around them and fill the alley with welcome heat.

Cirice hasn’t seen many gnomes in her travels, in fact this one she may have mistaken for a human child if not for her outfit. She carefully picks up the discarded glasses and wipes the smudges from them with the end of her scarf, offering them back to the little woman with a gentle smile. “Its Winter’s Crown, shouldn’t you be home with your family celebrating? What has you out here all alone in the cold feeling so blue? Maybe I can help?”

---

1 Camp fire

Though the tears don't dry from her face, the little gnome's sobbing quickly pauses as Cirice takes a seat beside her. She looks up in surprise, with irises of rustic hazel. "O-Oh! Um, I-I-"

She says nothing more, though it isn't for lack of trying. Several times, words audibly form on the tip of her tongue, but a bit of hesitation or a stutter is all that's uttered before they're lost to the haze of conversational awkwardness. She's clearly stunned, as most would be, thoughts conflicted between protests against a stranger's intervention and gratitude for a bit of genuine kindness. But it's the campfire that leaves her truly speechless. For a while, she just stares at it, slackjawed as her face bathes in the clashing colours of warm firelight and eerie blue. And it's only after this while that she finally hugs her knees close, looks away and manages a couple words with a voice as meek as frail as a dandelion. "Th-Thank you..."

'Comfortable' would be an exaggeration. She is, after all, sitting beneath a blanket with someone she's never met - at least, not that she knows. Nervousness pangs in her every movement: every twiddle of her fingers, every twitch in her lips and every wary glance.

Even the way she accepts her glasses is plagued by awkwardness. Easily read, she considers a second 'thank you,' but the moment passes before she musters the certainty. She just holds the glasses in her hand and stares idly at them. They're strange little things, with lenses that seem to swirl and spiral in ways that should make them impossible to see through. Still, she holds them, fidgeting with the temples...

"H-Huh?!" She looks genuinely shocked at Cirice's offer of further assistance. "Oh, um... Y-Yes- I mean n-no, or..."

She lets out a self-steadying sigh.

"It's o-okay. I- I just got into a f-f-f-... a f-fight with m-my boss." There's a bit of humour in her tone - a thinly veiled attempt to downplay the severity, despite the tears that are still drying on her cheeks. "I-It w-wasn't that b-bad, I just... I d-don't deal with confronta-, um... confrontation v-very well."

Her demeanour becomes even more anxious as she struggles to fill the silence.

"I-I wish. Th-That I could be at home, I mean. But my b-boss called me in. And..." She hugs her legs close, breathing a puff of mist against her knees. "I d-don't really have anyone to s-spend the holidays with. A-At least work is less l-... lonely." She forces a little chuckle.

BFF paws at the gnome's side, brushing against the plain fabric that covers her shoulder. She jolts in surprise, as anyone would at the sudden brush of metal. Only, her shock seems less startled and more oddly pleasant. She quickly puts on the glasses, sliding the temples over her oversized ears, looks at the artificial pup, and lets out a sigh.

"No way! You got one of the BFF-Series bots? I d-didn't think we were selling these yet."

Without a shred of reluctance or unfamiliarity, she begins to scritch the pup behind its metal ear. BFF leans into her hand, as if legitimately craving the affection.

"I love these guys." She looks up to Cirice, her face beaming with a huge grin. "Have you given it a name yet? Most of the bots don't respond to personal names, but I gave these ones a special subprocessor that lets them interpret designations that their owners give them. It's actually pretty revolutionary."

If she's trying to hide her pride, she's doing it poorly.

“Well if you don’t deal with confrontation well your boss should learn to be more gentle and considerate of you. Your thoughts and feelings matter. Its a holiday, you shouldn’t have to be working. I think its great you stood up for yourself. I’m sorry your feelings were hurt, friend.” Cirice gives her a genuine, warm smile and offers the crestfallen gnome her handkerchief to wipe her face. “Even if you don’t have family here in the city I’m sure you have friends to spend it with. I’d offer to spend it together but I’m sadly a bit busy myself tonight. I just couldn’t help myself seeing you so upset. No one should be lonely tonight.” Her smile becomes apologetic but not pitying, she just genuinely wanted to help.

“Oh um… well I don’t rightly know about that…” She chuckles awkwardly, then blinks. Our BFF bots? Oh no… She tries to see if she remembers seeing the gnome in either warehouse but doesn’t recall, perhaps her voice sounds somewhat familiar? Hmmm, something nags at the back of her mind but she’s tired and its hard to remember the details in all the ruckus of the night.

She hesitates then answers. “No I haven’t given him a name yet… He isn’t really mine you see…” That smile is so bright, she doesn’t want to disappoint her. “I… Stole him you see… But not for me and not knowingly… Its all become a pretty terrible mess and its all my fault… ” She sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to end up like this… But I’ve gotta keep going, everyone is counting on me."

"I suppose if you work for the little blonde angry lady you’ll have to take me in now, huh? She seemed quite adamant about that. I’ve never seen anyone so tightly wound. Like a spring pushed as tight as possible….” She tries to joke a little, knowing that this might be the end of her Red Rogue adventure but waiting to make her escape. If Yoci seems like she really will take her in she’ll bewitch the gnome and slink away like she did to Veliky, but Cirice is tired and… Well Yoci seems less righteous indignant than her uncompromising employer. She'll just have to wait and see how the cards fall. Mother Moon help them both.

With every word of the confession that spills from Cirice's mouth, Yoci's smile gradually fades. That pride and wonderment - gone, carried away on the silent wind.

"Y-You-You're... You're th-the R-Red Rogue."

It isn't a question, but it's spoken with true bewilderment. The only sound that linger are the subtle machinations of the mechanical pup between them. A gentle, chilling wind brushes through Cirice's white braids and Yoci's flaxen strands, and sways the fire's red glare.

Suddenly, Yoci rises, grabbing Cirice's arm! The urgency in her voice grounds through the stutter. "Y-Y-You h-have to g-go, sh-she'll s-s-send them to c-c-catch you!"

As the snuggle slides from her shoulders and the BFF rises at alert, Yoci looks into the darkness of the alley behind her.

"F-Follow me. H-H-Hurry!"

Practically dragging Cirice - surprisingly strong for her frame - Yoci dashes further into the alley and around a lonesome corner. Their sprinting footfalls are quiet on the night.

But not silent.

In the snow outside the alley, taloned footprints have trailed to an empty halt, and therein manifests the sword-wielding construct^[1] that's hounded Cirice's efforts all throughout the night. It stands, still, and observes through the crimson lens that pierces the ambience. And it raises that same little device^[2] in front of it, to report to its mistress.

"Mistress Veliky, report: I have located the target."

---

Four blocks away, Veliky marches down the frosted street, flanked by metal militiamen. The sound of their mechanical parade is a cacophony that dominates the night. But it halts as the construct's voice resounds from the little machine. On sheer reflex, she snatches the device from her belt and holds it in front of her.

"Where?!"

"Inpolar: an alley adjacent to Kindling Avenue. Report: Head Engineer Yoci is with the target."

A sharp breath escapes Veliky, as mist. Her eyes widen, and the rime of her demeanour cracks away. "What? Have they taken her hostage?!"

"Negative: Head Engineer Yoci appears to be accompanying the target willingly."

"Huh? But why would she...?"

Veliky runs a hand through her hair, messing it even further, before a grim realization seizes her. And then, the march resumes with even more intent - and even more urgency.

"Alright, follow them at a distance. Stay out of sight. We're on our way." Veliky's words are a hiss of vapor, between gritting teeth. "If you're spotted, don't listen to a damn word the target says; they're using an enchantment on Yoci, and they'll do the same to you if they get the chance."

As soon as she hears that compliant chirp crackle through the device, she puts it away and breaks into a near-run down the starlit streets. A few flakes of snow join the blanket that covers the world; one can taste another flurry in the air.

---

Twisting alleys and frozen aqueducts without an apparent end. Yoci is clearly not a runner, which only makes her unceasing efforts all the more pitiful. Even as the leader, she struggles to keep with Cirice's pace given her meagre strides. But the BFF is unhindered; it follows loyally, dutifully along.

Several times, Cirice's witnessed a glimpse of the hunters that Yoci fears - those same constructs whose image has become a point of such contempt. They are sparse, but they are everywhere. It seems that no street escapes their purview. And all the while, that star hangs in the sky like an all-seeing eye.

At eat threshold where the alley meets a lesser streets, Yoci grinds to a halt. BFF quickly follows suit. This is not the end of their flight by far, that much is clear - but it's the first of many obstacles.

The street is bathed in the otherworldly light of the anomalous star, and metal soldiers patrol. They need not be seen; the echoing clanks of their clockwork strides are indication enough.

Between fatigued pants and a painful stutter, Yoci's speech is a laboured thing. "Th-There's... n-n-no way around..." She looks to Cirice. Written on her fair face, in equal parts, is a mix of fear and hope. "Y-You're really good at being sneaky. Um, o-obviously. Is there a-any w-w-way you could...?"

---

1. Rook-13
2. Talking Heads

“Well… Yeah I am the Red Rogue I suppose. I’m sorry.” Cirice apologizes, her hands fidgeting in her lap and she’s caught off guard when the gnome grabs her arm and starts dragging her along with alarm. The Snuggle half hangs off of her, leaving a trail in the snow as she follows Yoci in concern. It doesn’t seem like she’s about to be turned in and as she tries to piece together whats happening she suddenly realizes, “Wait, you were the one who cheered me on back in your warehouse, weren’t you?”

She falls quiet as she sees the patrolling bots combing the area around them. Yoci is right they’re cooked if they get caught and the gnome has been kind enough to warn her, she can’t let her get hurt or lose her job. When they stop she looks around frantically and sees a manhole cover into the sewer. “I’ve got an idea, trust me, okay? We’ll never make it on surface streets but below we’ll have a chance.” She scoops Yoci and BFF up into her arms, putting the gnome on her shoulders with BFF in her arms and pulls out a flask and downs a big swig¹. She takes the snuggle off, turns it around to wear like a cloak, throwing it over them both so that they look like a tall gnome in a trench coat and she starts walking towards the manhole cover with a purposeful gait, opening it up silently and sliding down into the darkness before a construct turns the corner and sees the manhole cover silently sliding back into place.

Once they’re safely underground Cirice keeps Yoci on her shoulders to protect her as they slink through the shadows stealthily². “Sorry if this is awkward but I don’t want you to get hurt new friend.”

---

1 Potion of Shadows
2 Cloak of Shadows

Needless to say, Yoci was doubtful. She was doubtful when Cirice placed her atop her shoulders. She was doubtful when Cirice draped the snuggle over them, giving them the appearance of an especially grand hag. She was especially doubtful as they marched into the unsheltered street, gracing themselves with not only the first falling flakes of a newborn flurry but also the scrutinizing eyes of several patrolling automatons. Every glance of their crimson lenses was like a ray of scorching sunlight, growing a desperation for shelter...

But, against all odds and in spite of all reason, they find their way to the grate. It's a frantic scramble to open and descend. But once they do, they are out of sight, free from the tyranny of perception.

"I-I can't believe that w-worked...! Y-You're a genius!" She conveys her amazement in a quiet exclamation, careful not to let her words echo on the damp, arching brick-walls. Of course, there wouldn't be any constructs down here to worry about... right?

The doubt is reason enough for wariness. It's perhaps the only reason that Yoci is okay with being piggybacked like a toddler; then again, her discomfort ebbs away in short order, hinting at a subtle lack of aversion. It's strangely easy to tell what she's thinking, even without seeing her face, as the hints of her body language can be felt rather than scried.

Along they creep, at the semi-dry pathway to the side of the gently flowing slough. A few minutes pass, long enough to lose the adrenaline rush while keeping all the trepidation. Yoci's anxiety is clear enough in the unsteadiness in her breath, the restless shuffling of her thighs. But there's something else - a dourness, a sorrow that grows as the exhilaration diminishes. Twice she begins to say something; only the third attempt bears any fruit.

"You're r-right. It was m-m-me in the ware- the warehouse. You were amazing! I-I-I've never seen anyone pacify a Cherub unit before. But my b-b-boss..."

She takes a deep, shaky breath, inaudible but felt in the subtle rising of her chest.

"I-I-I don't know... I-I mean, sh-she's *always* sort of i-impatient, and m-mean... and c-c-cold... But I-I've never seen h-her this- this..." She struggles not just with the vocalization, but in finding the right word. "this *this*. I-I don't get why sh-she h-hates you so much. D-Do you..." She pauses to let her voice soften naturally. "Do you kn-know her?"

Her question is strange in its feasibility, but what other explanation could there be?

"No I haven't ever seen her before, I don't even know who she is... In fact the constructs I feel like I've never seen before either. Well... Maybe once with Astrid...."

Suddenly, Yoci's posture straightens in epiphany- "O-Oh! So you've met-" -and then lowers in disdain. "-*her.*"

It's a two-pointed surprise: that Yoci knows Astrid, and that she - or anyone - could harbour an ill will toward the sweet foundling.

"...V-Veliky had me build A-A-Astrid's personal Blixtbot™, Charles. Wanted m-me to build the 'perfect babysitter.' But th-the specifications were r-r-ridiculous!" Her body tenses in another surprise: legitimate anger. "V-V-Veliky wouldn't accept *anything* but the best. Sh-She hardly *ever* r-r-rejects my designs, but this time she r-rejected six before sh-she was satisfied! All for that- that little... U-Um..."

She realizes far too late how her anger is coming across. The tension in her legs doesn't diminish in the slightest, but only transmogrifies into embarrassment.

"S-S-Sorry... It's just- It's just that V-Veliky's a really caring person sometimes. Sh-She gave me a job, and a home... Sh-She even gave that girl, A-Astrid, a whole mansion! For free! B-b-but..." The culmination of a slough of frustrated thoughts comes out only as a sigh. "I d-don't know..."

Cirice's face is clouded with concern, confusion and consternation, "That's Veliky....? Shit..." She rubs the back of her neck "Yeah Cantio mentioned her to me fondly, she sounded like a really nice person to me, nothing like the angry woman I saw up there but I guess I did that to myself... Well fuck..."

Past a mold-infested threshold, the sewer tunnel opens into a sort of cistern. The low standard of care held by Sol City becomes quite more apparent; many of the pipes are clogged, and the areas that should be dry are largely flooded. It seems keeping dry feet won't be an option here.

"You don't seem like you like Astrid much, I get that she's kinda terrifying. I'm not surprised it took so many iterations, that girl is wild and it would take a lot for something to be able to "babysit" her... Mother Moon above this is getting complicated...."

Yoci relaxes: a bit of catharsis with the conclusion of her rant.

"Yeah... I m-mean I've never actually *m-m-met* Astrid, but... I just d-don't get what makes her so sp-special. Veliky says A-Astrid's supposed to be s-some sort of p-pr-prodigy, b-but..." Something in her posture softens, yet only belies an inner tension. A doughy exterior and an anxious core, like some sort of emotional dumpling. "Sh-She already... h-h-has me..."

The melancholy falls gently, like the snowfall outside. And Cirice is made to bask in its soft reality. The silence can't go unfilled; she won't allow it.

"Well-"

But she doesn't get to the consolation. Because another voice - an unwelcome, dreadful voice - interjects. It rings from wall to wall and pillar to pillar, and every brick is graced with its oppressive drone.

"Enemy Red Rogue, command: halt."

The decree dominates the room. Yoci freezes so suddenly that her knees squeeze Cirice's neck. The only sound that dares to challenge in its wake is the rhythmic drip-drop of fetid waters into the cistern.

But there's nothing around - nothing that can be seen. No source, no interloper, no threat. And it's this absence that is truly mortifying.

They have been seen by something that they cannot see.

...Splish. A sound, coming from just by the corner of a nearby pillar. The sound of a step in murk.

Splish. Closer, now. It's approaching. It's slow, but growing nearer. And yet, even with an encroaching threat, knowing where it is strangely alleviates some of that dread. But, then...

SPLASH! The sewage erupts nearby, sending foul droplets through the air! But the revulsion is eclipsed by by something far less trivial as a mechanical figure manifests^[1] in the air, mid-leap, with a sword^[2] that crackles with crimson^[3] electricity^[4], ready to cleave at the duo of Yoci and Cirice.

---

1. Invisibility (Rook-13)
2. (Sword for Dummies) X-01 Novice
3. Sigil's Blessing (Holy)
4. Sigil's Blessing (Lightning Rune)

Cirice gasps and jumps back away from the attacker, more afraid for Yoci’s safety than for her own. The sword slashes down at her and she makes to catch it between her palms like Ulrich taught her but sees the arc of electricity bouncing off of it and decides to take the blow instead. Barely missing her shoulder, the blade cuts into her right arm, sending a wave of pain followed by a wave of concerning numbness through her extremity. It burns, making her grit her teeth as something deep within her writhes and recoils form the light on the blade.

“R-Rogue!” Yoci’s distraught cry echoes concern and fear from the stones of the sewer around them but before Cirice can reassure her the Rook readies another swing.

On instinct she throws up a wall of light between the golem and herself, the cramped area of the sewer spillway and her limp, unresponsive arm making it difficult for her to really position the wall well¹. The sword crashes into it with a clang of metal and a flurry of sparks.

“Hey whoa wait, you’ll hurt your friend! I don’t want to fight you!” Her sincerity is real, she doesn’t want to cause any more trouble. Knowing this construct belongs to Veliky makes her even more hesitant to harm them. A friend of a friend is just a friend not made yet after all. “Please just, put down your weapon!”

The construct's blade still glows with moonlight from where it struck the ephemeral wall. The crimson arcs and pale glow are a startling contrast.

"Negative:" its voice groans again, "your capture is a Priority Gold directive. It is not this unit's decision to make." Its joints click in an ear-grating manner as it adjusts its stance. "Command: surrender immediately."

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Not yet.” There aren’t many options left, not if they want to keep going. Time for desperate measures.

Cirice raises her good arm towards her assailant and snaps, lowering the wall as a wave of violet energy explodes out of her, rushing forwards towards the Rook and beyond. Suddenly the sword disappears from its hands in a burst of purple sparkles, along with any other weapons in the nearby area².

“You surrender. I don’t want to hurt you. But I will if you leave me no other choice.³” She pants, pouring magic into her words to make the threat sound more menacing.

---

1 Wall of Light
2 Disarming Aura
3 Smooth Talking

The bot freezes in its stance. It isn't frozen in fear or any other mortal emotion, but more as how a watermill freezes when something becomes lodged in its wheel. One by one, it flexes its spindly fingers, trying to grasp a sword that no longer exists. And then, with a hiss of clockwork joints, it turns its head and finally sees what it suspected: its sword is nowhere to be seen.

Cirice feels something brush against her leg. It's BFF; with tucked tail and tucked ears, its concern for Cirice - artificial or otherwise - is clear as day. Yoci's worry, too, can be felt; she can't gather her thoughts into any verbalization, but she nonetheless stares at the vicious wound in poor Cirice's arm. But the Red Rogue is fighting through it. She's strong.

With many an odd noise of arcane mechanica, the bot adjusts its stance to something more neutral. Its movements seem somehow less disciplined; even less confident, if such a concept could be applied to an emotionless being. Now, it's standing straight and still, staring at Cirice with unwavering focus. And, keeping her in its crimson glare, it reaches in arm to its hip and grabs an odd little device^[1]. It raises the device in front of its face, to where its mouth would be, and speaks.

"Mistress Veliky, report: I was unable to delay the target. Additional report: the target is currently located at the East Emissary Nexus, alongside Head Engineer Yoci and the stolen BFF unit. Recommendation: proceed with haste."

---

At the threshold of a familiar alley, standing in the crescendo of the snowfall, Veliky and her clockwork militia have gathered. She holds her copy of the device^[1] to her ear. The look on her face is grim.

"Yeah," she responds into the communicator, "I guessed as much."

Though her voice is calm, a seething indignance is betrayed as she throws the device to the ground. With a crack and clatter, it breaks into pieces on the frost-encrusted cobble. Perhaps it could be repaired with a bit of patience, but she is direly lacking that in this moment. With flakes of ice sticking to her cheeks, she doesn't even bother to look at her construct envoys as she breathes her commands.

"Get underground. Scour the sewers. Find them."

---

With its report fulfilled, the disarmed construct assumes a demeanour that's rather... purposeless. It unceremoniously drops its device into the sludge, where it splooshes below the opaque murk and is lost. And there the construct stands, and there the construct stays. Like someone who's truly lost everything, any motivation to move or even speak has completely vanished. It appears keen on staying put.

Yoci, on the other hand, does not.

Without so much as a warning, Yoci hops off of Cirice's shoulders, dropping into the calf-high sludge. She dashes out from behind the protection of Cirice's light-shield, coming to a stop at the sewer's wall, where she grabs a loose brick and slides it out of its place! With a running start, she hucks the brick in the bot's direction, whereupon it strikes the construct in its steel skull and sends it toppling down with an alien cry of artificial pain! The crimson glow of its eyes fades to the half-dark of unlit glass.

Yoci's left panting, exhilarated and tuckered. But she isn't done; wading over to the scrapped construct, she takes a shard of stone and jams it into a gap in the construct's chest. And then, metal groans as she begins to pry.

"Come on, c-come on..."

Her efforts bear fruit; the bot's chest cracks open. But none of that phosphorescent blood-analogue seeps out. In fact, behind the bot's metallic pectorals lies a hidden compartment, containing two bottles of similar blue liquid. The contents glow brightly, almost painfully, and the label denotes these apparent beverages as Blixt™ SuperPlus^[2].

"Yes!" she proclaims triumphantly, grabbing both bottles and then rushing back to Cirice. That piteous, concerned expression still adorns her face as she offers one of them to her. "H-Here, drink this. It'll h-heal you, I-I-I promise."

---

1. Talking Heads
2. (Major Health Potion) Blixt™ SuperPlus (Rook-13)

As concerned as Cirice is for getting caught she feels sort of bad at how hopelessly lost the construct looks bereft of its weapon and its purpose. Even as it signals for reinforcements that will spell danger for them she feels a twinge of regret at how things have gotten to this point. But before Cirice can say or do anything else Yoci springs into action, absolutely clobbering the listless golem as Cirice blinks incredulously. She watches the gnome wrest open the chest of the construct and retrieve a pair of bottles from within it. As Yoci comes over and offers her one of the potions, she looks at her in shock and awe.

“Thank you...” She takes the potion and looks at it, the familiar label making her gulp. “Oh man last time I had one of these I was wired…” The situation is so strange and is spiraling out of control, she isn’t sure how to react anymore. She upends the bottle into her mouth, feeling the cool liquid spread down her throat and sap the pain away from the cut on her arm but the numbness persists, her fingers limp and useless, ignoring her commands to move.

“Y-you really didn’t have to do that for me… I don’t want you to get hurt or lose your job because of me!” With her pain gone her attention is back on her new friend. Her eyes are full of concern.

The little gnome, looking almost directly upward at Cirice, watches as she downs the bottle, though flinches as Cirice's gaze returns to her. A bit of redness - subtle, but there - flushes her face as she twiddles her fingers.

"I-I-It's o-okay. Y-You're doing something good. V-V-Veliky can't s-see that, but I-I can."

She looks down to the BFF that's still nuzzling the side of Cirice's leg, and the faintest of smiles crosses her face.

"BFF... it might n-not really b-b-be able to l-love, but it could s-still really help someone in n-need. J-J-Ju-Just g-get it to someone who needs it, o-okay?"

Cirice smiles at her and reaches down to pat BFF’s little metal head. “I will, I promise. I won’t let you down. I won’t let anyone down. He’s going to get a great new home with someone who deserves him. You have my word.” She gives Yoci a determined look. “Let’s keep going, they’ll be down here soon, we need to get out before they find us. Want to get on my shoulders again?”

As Cirice makes her heartfelt promise, Yoci's expression softens like wet clay. For just a moment, the stress of the situation fades from her, replaced by something more nostalgic. Even through the spiral-lenses of her spectacles, Cirice can see a twinkle in her eye...

...Though is all fades at Cirice's offer of a resumed piggyback ride. While Yoci doesn't appear altogether opposed to the idea itself, she does look at Cirice's floppy arm with some concern.

"U-Umm... B-B-Better idea."

She turns away, and quickly wades back over the the body of the bot, still partly submerged in the muck. With the same stone that she used to pry open its chest, she takes to the bot's dented skull and, too, pops it open with a noisy and ugly clang. And then, tossing the stone aside, she reaches into the bot's steel skull and... does something. It's difficult to tell what, exactly; her fingers are moving so quickly between mind-bogglingly complex mechanisms that they almost blur. She navigates webs of strange, rubber threads, as familiar with the construction as she is with the back of her own hand.

"Almost there, and... done!"

Suddenly, the bot's eyes light up, and it shoots up to a sitting position! Suddenly extremely conscious, that glow has returned to its eyes. Only, now it isn't the crimson glare from earlier, but a rather verdant green¹. It looks to Cirice, but... well, it isn't trying to attack her, which is a marked improvement.

As the bot begins to rise up, sewage dripping from its joints, Yoci climbs onto its back, wrapping her arms over its shoulders. She looks to Cirice with a pride that she doesn't even try to conceal.

"A-Alright, let's g-g-go!"

Cirice watches Yoci with curiosity and wonder and when the bot gets up and she climbs on its back she hops in delight. “Wow that was amazing! You’re impressive, you know that?” Before Yoci can respond however there’s an echoing plop into the water somewhere nearby. “Oh no we’d better get out of here. I promise I’ll try to make this up to you one day, friend.”

She scoops up BFF in her good arm and they scramble towards the nearest exit point. Its difficult to climb the ladder to the street with one arm, but Cirice manages, getting a breath full of fresh air and biting cold in relief.

---

 [1] Reprogram (Yoci)

Freedom from the stench of the sewers is a welcome thing, but the frigid nip of Winter is not. As Cirice emerges from the great and into a forlorn alley, she finds that the snow flurry has worsened. Should it evolve further, there may be a storm within the hour. Though that eerie glow - and its alien source in the sky - has strangely disappeared since they entered the sewer, leaving the city in its ordinary darkness.

In her arm, the BFF begins to heat up again. It's resting its head on her chest, as if tired, but such a thing seems absurd. Still, its warmth is a welcome thing on such a cold and terrible night...

Yoci's head emerges from the sewer, and the head of her repurposed Blixtbot™ is soon to follow. With the gnome still clinging to its back, the construct easily lifts itself out of the manhole, coming to a stand on the stone ground. Yoci's misty breath billows over its shoulder.

"Okay, i-if we h-h-hurry then we sh-sh-should be able to lose them. Come on."

As much as it is for Cirice, the command is also for Yoci's mount, which swiftly ferries her to the edge of the alley, leading out onto Pilgrim's Avenue. The bot bends its back so that Yoci can peer around the corner. Quickly, her brows raise in astonishment.

"O-Oh my goodness! Rogue, c-come look at th-th-this!"

Seeing out onto the street, the cause of Yoci's surprise becomes apparent. Parked on the curb is a wagon, not at all unlike the one that Cirice stole from the warehouse (albeit in much better condition than what she left it in). It bears the same insignia, and is drawn by a similarly mechanical steed but bereft of the fiery mane that the other one possessed. But it isn't the only construct there, as the wagon is surrounded by what must be a dozen armed Blixtbots™.

Yet, despite the grim sight, Yoci's expression is elated as she looks to Cirice.

"Rogue!" she whispers urgently. "Th-Th-That's the w-wagon where they're k-k-keeping the things you stole!"

Is it? The back of the wagon is facing away, so its contents can't be seen. But Yoci seems incredibly confident in this fact. Her assumption must come from some prior knowledge.

"You h-have to g-g-get them back! Fa-Families e-e-everywhere could use them. I-It could make them h-happy!"

She isn't wrong. But is such a thing even possible? There are certainly too many bots to take on in a fight. Cirice could try to lie to them, but that didn't work on the bot that Yoci's now astride. And the finagling with which Yoci repurposed that bot took time and concentration - too much to be viable on combat. Is this doable?

"Well thats handy... Are you sure it isn't a trap? There are quite a few constructs there, I'm not sure how I could dispatch them all..."

Her face sinks beneath her spiral-spectacles. "A t-t-trap?" And she takes another look at the wagon - a look, and far more scrutinies look.

"I-I don't kn-kn-know... M-M-Maybe. B-But I don't think so. If it w-w-were a tra-trap, there's wouldn't be... so m-m-m-many..." There's an apprehension in the way she ends her analysis, as if fully realizing just how daunting a task it would be.

"B-B-But you're, like, really cool! S-So, do you think... d-do you think it's p-p-possible?"

She turns back to Cirice. The ready sorrow in her face tells that this isn't merely a question, but a plea.

Cirice looks at the gnome and looks back at the caravan, her jaw setting into a determined grimace. "No. .. I can do this. But I don't want you to get caught up in it. You've helped me so much, I don't want to get you hurt or fired."

With every word that comes from Cirice's mouth, that smile slowly grows on Yoci's face, practically glowing in the dark. Cirice can almost see her vibrating with joy.

"Yes! Th-Thank you so much!" She can barely contain her gratitude. That is, until her face lights in epiphany. "O-Oh! I have s-something for you. I-I-I don't kn-know if it'll help, b-but..."

She reaches into her other pocket. An impossible amount of metal somethings clink together as she fishes about, until she produces a peculiar box^[1], about the size of Cirice's fist (many times larger than Yoci's). Constructed of some dull-gold material, its countless gears and other mechanisms lend it a resemblance to dwarven puzzle boxes, only significantly more complex. Jutting out from one side is a crank with a wooden hand.

She holds it out, expectantly. "Wh-When you turn the crank, it makes music! Really loud and annoying music, and lots of it! I-I... don't know if it'll do anything here, but... pl-please keep it."

As Cirice reaches forward and grasps the box in her hand, she can feel a light drain on her mana as lines of arcane blue run through the gaps in the box. It's only a minor robbery, however. More importantly, she now feels somehow connected to the box - attuned.

But just as Cirice looks back to Yoci, she finds the gnome wrapping her little arms around her neck in a warm embrace, sandwiching the BFF between them and sharing its warmth. The gnome's angular features poke in obtrusive ways, but... it isn't that bad. It isn't bad at all.

"Th-Th-Thank you, Rogue."

It takes a few seconds before she decides to release her hold, and a few more before she actually does so. The expression on her face is a mix of joy, sorrow, worry and hope for the Red Rogue that she now knows as a friend; all melded into a single, earnest smile.

"A-A-Alright. B-Be c-c-careful, Rogue."

---

1. Caroler's Confusion (Permanent gift from Yoci to Cirice)

The gnome’s hug is gentle, awkward and unpracticed, but genuine. Cirice wraps her arms around the smaller woman’s frame and smiles, happy that her present for Winter’s Crown was a new friend. She gives the lightest squeeze before they pull apart.

“Thank YOU, you’ve been an absolute treasure to meet. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help and encouragement! I hope you’re feeling much better. Veliky is lucky to have you at her side.” She holds up the curious music box and taps it gently against her own temple. “I’ll make good use of this and treasure it forever. I hope we meet again under better circumstances. I’m Cirice by the way, Cirice Lunestre.”

For a brief second, the gnome seems surprised. For another, her face flushes and she looks down in ill-concealed embarrassment. And the little astonishment when she hears Cirice's name; it's as if the idea of the Red Rogue having an actual name - or, at least, one that she would ever know - is a fairytale that's just become reality.

"Th-Th-Thank y-you, um... C-C-Cirice. Th-That's a c-c-cute name."

In spite of the dire circumstances, the embarrassment of her compliment is not lost on Yoci, who immediately averts her gaze.

"...I-I-I'm Yoci, and... I-I w-w-want to m-m-meet a-again, too. So, um... p-please stay safe." Stiff as a statue, awkward as a drunken donkey, earnest as a dandelion.

“I will. Next time we meet it’ll be under better circumstances I’m sure. You stay safe Yoci, my beloved boffin.” With that she gives Yoci a wink and a big smile as the shadows curl around her, concealing her form¹. “I’ll wait for you to get some distance before I go in. Until we meet again!”


Yoci practically melts into a huddling smile, her red face glowing under the Winter moonlight. Though the doubt, the worry, the fear and the Winter chill remain as they were; the trappings play across Yoci's face, of the blessing of nostalgia - a bit of warmth on a heatless night.

By the time she looks up, her heroine has set off.

Cirice for her part gives Yoci a few minutes to head away before she starts her assault on the wagon in earnest. She creeps forward to the side that seems to have the least amount of guards, carefully keeping to the shadows and only getting as close as she thinks safe. She summons Ur² at her feet and has him run in front of the constructs while she starts cranking the music box from her hiding place³ and tinkling music stars filling the night air.

---

1 Cloak of Shadows
2 Summon minor minion
3 Caroler's confusion

On the night that had been so very quiet, where clicks and hisses and clanks and plate-grinding footfalls and ear-grating speech of the constructs resounded out into the night without so much as an ear to hear them, something answered their clockwork chorus with a melody of its own. Little notes twinkle and turn, each piercing the night like a needle. And as those red-eyed automatons scan and survey for the source; they go louder, more dissonant. Another song joins the chaos, and then another, and then another and another until they are the only sound that can be heard.

If there is a capacity for perturbment with their tin husks, this might be it. Gradually, they gather and direct their attention - pointed spears and all - at the forlorn alley that had seemed so innocent. Into that unfettered shadow, they peer, only waiting...

They are patient. That much can be owed to them. Against that darkness they stand, stalwart, a wall of steel and mettle. But it isn't strength that will decide this confrontation.

Their patience is awarded. From the darkness, lunging, is an entity of shadow, meagre but dreadful nonetheless. With it, a number of the constructs have already been acquainted. They have learned from it, seen its patterns like numbers on a chart. And armed with this knowledge, they stand at the ready.

But amidst the disorganized cacophony of notes and whirring, the constructs are woefully unaware of subtler sounds. A whisper or even a call could escape them. And this is precisely what happens, as a whisper laced with lunacy goes unheard by all - except for one. In the backlines, a bot twitches and jitters, standing out from its readied companions like a black sheep. Its head jerks back and forth even as its stance remains straight as a post. Something's happening to it; and as its movements become even more erratic, that crimson vanishes from its eyes, to be replaced by a colour more melancholic: violet, like the evening sky.

It would seem that lunacy^[1] is known even by artificial minds.

Just as one of its companions approaches to assess its inexplicable behaviour, it violently wrenches its entire upper body in a pivot, swinging its spear violently and leaving a fatal gouge in that bot's chest! The construct does not cease its lunar rampage, continuing to whirl and spin as its spindly legs struggle to even keep pace! Cogs and other mechanisms screech and grind within it, as if in protest! Its violent swirl sends another bot sprawling and bleeding onto the snow before others turn around, quickly realizing that this one is an ally no longer. Suddenly, they face an assault on two fronts!

'Of course, the tenebrous rabbit was a distraction once more,' is a far more fluid translation of what the bots begin to think. Just as it had in the warehouse, Ur is drawing away their attention whilst the real threat - the lunacy-stricken construct - runs rampant.

And so the latter becomes their focus. This proves to be a grievous mistake.

The frontmost bot, which had glanced back at the chaos behind it, hardly has time to look forward again before the Ur leaps upon it! Though the little shadow-hare lacks strength, it does not lack ferocity. Its tenebrous fang digs into the tin flesh of the construct's neck before tearing out a huge chunk from its chest! The bot's front is practically peeled off, revealing the most mind-boggling of interna: an artificial heart like a canister of brass and two tubes of bright-blue fluid where lungs should occupy. That same fluid spills onto the cobble, onto the snow, as the bot lets out a fading whistle and collapses onto its back with a crash!

They won't make the same mistake again. Even if they must divide their attention between the shadow and their maddened comrade - who has just crushed another bot's skull with a reckless swing - they will not allow either to gain the upper hand.

---

1. Maddening Whispers (Cirice)

Cirice watches Ur gouge out the throat of the nearest construct and winces. They may be unfeeling golems of bronze and steel, but they’re still humanoid enough to make her feel bad for them. Perhaps if they weren’t the property of a friend’s friend she might feel less bad about their plight. But she doesn’t have time for remorse, the opening that Ur and the maddened construct has made for her is closing quickly. With a deep breath she rushes forward into the fray!

The cover of the shadows fades from her shoulders as she steps into the light of the solitary lantern hanging from the cart. She isn’t the fastest or most agile of adventurers, but as a crossbow bolt comes hurtling towards her she catches it in her empty palms¹, tossing it away and keeping moving forward towards the constructs nearest to her. Bolts fly past her as the constructs are beset on three sides, their whirling mad comrade lashing out wildly and slashing the arm off the nearest spear-wielder to it. Ur keeps fighting and chopping at constructs and takes a bolt into one of his wings, nearly poofing from the pain but holding on for his mistress’ sake. Finally Cirice reaches the two constructs nearest to her and before they can shoot her point-blank she rests a palm on each of them, the runes on her arms glowing brightly as madness spreads across them as well². Their eyes turn the same deep violet as she rushes past them and hops up onto the horse. A spear comes in to stab at her and she catches its blade, blood running down her palms¹.

The constructs she touched turn and fire directly at one another’s heads, their metal cortexes splitting open with a horrid metal whine. Cirice winces once more at that sound, kicking her feet and trying to get the horse moving, intending to trample any constructs in the wagon’s way.

The horse rears up, nearly knocking her off its back and starts running forward at a breakneck speed, Cirice clinging to its back. There is no hideout anymore, no place for her to take refuge and no time to find a new place so Cirice does her best to steer the horse towards the slums. If she can get some of the goods handed out to the less fortunate she doesn’t care what happens to her. They clatter through the streets at that ridiculous speed the construct horses can manage and once they get to the slums she stops the wagon, hurrying into the back and shuffling through boxes to see what can be easily handed out.

Crates and vials of Blixt^tm, some small clockwork contraptions like she’d seen the construct use to contact Veliky before, cloaks and small trinkets fill the small wagon. She isn’t sure how she can possibly move this merchandise without getting caught again. One small grey bag with the same logo on the side of the wagon adorning it catches her eye and she opens it curiously. Inside she finds only vacuous darkness and when she reaches inside she feels only a slightly chilly void³. Magic, she realizes, some sort of storage enchantment. She picks up the nearest bottle of Blixt^tm and tucks it inside where it disappears weightlessly. Her eyes grow wide with hope and surprise as she opens the bag as wide as she can and shovels as much as she can into it. The bag seems endless as she packs more and more into it. If they’d had this kind of magic, why did they even need a wagon in the first place? She wonders if it was simply just to entice her. Either way this works better than being chased in a wagon with a horse that can disappear in an instant.

Bag filled with as much of the contraband as she thought she could hand out, Cirice slings it lightly over her shoulder and slips out of the cart, covering herself in darkness⁴ once more as she heads back to the horse and gives it a rough smack on the ass. It rears once more, startled, and starts charging off down the road with the wagon behind it. She hopes it doesn’t get hurt or hurt anyone but she’s got a job to do. The slumps are cold and quiet as she silently creeps into the backstreets, littering gifts on the doorsteps of all those she passes.

---

1 Steel catch
2 Infuriate 
3 Bag of the Infinite
4 Cloak of Shadows

The sounds of the constructs' conflict becomes more and more distant, until it is just a memory. The mechanical galloping, too, fades into silence. And in their absence - the absence of strife - the quiet is such a comforting thing. Like returning home after a reviled vacation, like taking a seat after after a three-hour walk, like snuggling a loved one after days in the cold: relief.

What is left is only the natural chore of the Red Rogue: a gift for each doorstep, for every yearning child. And every last one is a gift in turn; the gift of knowing that, come morning, the children will awaken to the wondrous little blessings under the trees. Of course the gifts themselves are peculiar things from the property of Platinum Corp, but strange and wondrous often go hand in hand. The real gift is happiness itself. And this, Cirice brings.

Those children won't have to wait long, either. It's been a wearisome and perilous night, but dawn is only a half-hour away. In fact, Cirice is somewhat behind schedule (a fault that none would blame her for, given what this night has put her through). Fortunately, there's only one last gift to deliver, and it's looking up at her with wide eyes of somehow-affectionate, red glass. Its tail is wagging lightly, as if it can sense the satisfaction. And perhaps it can; it's an intelligent thing, after all. The BFF, yet to even have a name... Soon, it'll be time to part with it. And it will have a family of its own.

...But 'soon' isn't 'now.' There's still time, and the night is gentle enough to savour the passing moments with fondness. It's cold, of course - enough to send shivers through one's entire body. But the BFF is there to provide much-needed warmth. And much-needed is much-wanted, and much-wanted can make such a terrible night at least more bearable.

Cirice walks through the streets of Sol City's slums, where the unfortunate have been consigned by fate. The roads are ill-kept; and the residences, meagre. The moon still shines brightly, illuminating a sky of navy-blue. The clouds might be ominous if they weren't already so familiar. The snow has slowed once more to just the littlest of flurries, gently gracing Cirice's violet complexion with tiny dapples. It almost feels like an ordinary Winter night. It almost feels like a Winter's Crown's eve from youth. Almost.

Almost...

Almost.

The shadows flee like little animals in the presence of a predator, as the streets and alleys that had been so dark become slowly bathed in an eerie and all-too-familiar blue radiance. It's returned; the arcane star^[1] rises again, into the sky! It's far too close to be a coincidence, and far too close to entail anything but the most dreadful truth: it isn't over.

And as if to manifest this realization, the star isn't the only thing that dominates the sky. There's another shape, silhouetting itself against the sky. At first, it seems like an ordinary bird of some description. But then it glides closer, and its wings span the very streets. Two eyes of burning crimson glare down as it swoops toward the street that holds Cirice.

There's no time to evade it! In three seconds, it clears nine city blocks! Before Cirice can so much as think to flee, it has come to a hover above her. At last, the starlight shines upon it to reveal a massive horned owl[2] of metal and the same manufacture as BFF and the other constructs! And those crimson lenses are staring down at her!

Suddenly, its metallic brow-plate slides down, obscuring its eyes behind a mask. At the same time, similar plates on its chest slide open to reveal a luminous orb of bright blue; even from where Cirice stands, she can feel the cold radiating from it. Cold winds gather as the orb grows brighter, mana crackles in the air in preparation for magic unleashed! It all culminates in a frigid pulse that emanates from the dreaded owl, and the streets are suddenly swept by a blizzard^[3]! The mere flurry turns to a storm, and the snowflakes turn to chunks of hail that smash and shatter against the cobbled street!

Resounding over the howling storm is a voice, calling like the heavens themselves. "Red Rogue, surrender immediately! This is your last chance!" The location of its source is a mystery, and one best not pondered now.

From an alley, Blixtbots™ begin to pour into the street. Their intent is as clear as the little tyrant's tone as they draw their weapons and begin chasing toward Cirice and the little dog in her arms.

It's funny. Just seconds ago, it'd been so quiet...

---

1. North Star
2. (Snow Owl) Silent Night-01
3. Heavy Blizzard (Silent Night-01)