-------------------- PROLOGUE --------------------




	The late sun dipped below the cloudy horizon, leaving what little light there was to dwindle to nothing. Clarissa Demaux wiped her eyes and pushed back her nausea as the procession passed. Nausea was only one of the things she’d dealt with recently but she weathered it quietly. When the last person had passed the tree that protected her from the light rain, she approached the headstone. Her limp didn't bother her as much this week but walking was still a chore. The grey stone before her seemed too small for the man of her memory. The words were not enough to describe him: 'Here lies Michael James Donahue, 2020-2043."
	Her tears renewed and mixed with the rain that soaked her muzzle. Claire lowered herself slowly and laid her single flower beside the others. It wasn't fair how he had been taken from her so soon after she'd given herself to him. The last time she had seen him was when he'd rescued her yet again, this time from a police station. He'd done it miraculously. And then... Then she was in someone's house and so confused. And he was gone. He'd left her at his father's house while she recovered. At some point the police had come but Jonathon, Michael's father, had deflected them. She didn't know why he tolerated her but she was grateful for it. When she could finally leave, she did. Their old apartment hurt without him but it was still home for now. Rent was hard but manageable. She was going to have to do something about it though, her reserves could only cover so much and the future was so uncertain.
	The sound of two people behind her broke her out of her thoughts. She jumped up too quickly and her leg gave out. The headstone was what she caught herself on when she heard an exclamation. She turned her head towards the two men approaching her and her heart calmed. It was Jonathon and Sir Dusk. Her heart picked up again. Dusk didn't know her personally and she honestly didn't know if he could be trusted. Jonathon approached her but Dusk hung back a few steps.
	"Are you Ok?" Jonathon asked, helping her to her feet.
	"Just hurting a but," her gaze was locked on Dusk's. "What's he doing here?"
	"We met at the funeral. He's an interesting young man and had a lot to say about Michael. We were going to pay our respects more privately and didn't expect to see you here. You two know each other?"
	“You could say that.” She eyed him suspiciously. "That true, Dusk?"
	"Y-yeah," Dusk stuttered. "That you, Lupus?"
	"The one and only."
	Jonathan turned to the younger man, "Dusk? You told me your name was Tony."
	"It is," he answered. "Dusk is just a nickname."
	"Sure," Jonathan sighed. "Can you leave us for a second, Tony?"
	He quietly nodded, turning away to wander the area.
	"Claire, there's something you should know." Jonathon started. "I found Michael's will. It was a few years old and left everything to his next of kin. He wasn't married and didn't have any siblings. I'm his only immediate family even if we're estranged." He paused to collect himself and set his shoulders. "I'm going to give you everything of his. I think it's what he would've wanted."
	Claire nodded and a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. Everything. "Thank you. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?"
	"He loved you very much. I got that from him in the brief time we talked."
	"And I loved him." She sobbed, it was too much. "I've got to go."
	"You're pregnant, aren't you?" He asked as she turned. Claire paused before continuing away. How did he know? Of course he would, he’s a doctor. 
	The exit to the cemetery wasn't far. Dusk was waiting for her there. "Hey."
	"What?" She stopped, barely holding her composure.
	"I won't see you again, will I?" He asked.
	"No you won't."

--------------------

	Anon closed the door to his two room cabin behind him and flicked on the lights. A pot of cabbage soup was hanging over the embers of the hearth. He grabbed a wooden bowl and spoon, filling them with the soup. It was good and hot. This harvest was better than normal, probably the best in the last 10 years. The soup needed more of his precious salt though and he paid a premium to get it out here. Two bowls were enough for him and he set the leftovers to the side for later. There wasn't anything else for him to do once he washed the bowls so he sat down in his favorite chair and watched the sunset through the windows.
	It was dusk when a pair of figures emerged from the treeline. Anon cursed, he was tired and didn't want to deal with horse thieves again. He grabbed his revolver from the other room and a handful of extra bullets. They didn't make for his barn, surprisingly, and instead went for his door. Anon didn't get a good look at them before they pounded on his door. He didn't fail to notice their swords, however. 'This could turn out bad,' he thought while readying himself. His center of power shifted more outwards, gathering power so it could be readily called on at a moment's notice.
	"Who are you? What do you want?" Anon called through the door.
	"We are just travelers, sir. We need shelter and we can pay you." They answered.
	"Take the road to town. You'll only spend another night in the forest." He really didn't want them hanging around here.
	"Please. We were attacked not three days ago and we have wounded."
	Anon cursed. They were playing that card. He hated when they said stuff like that. But he couldn't just not help if that was really the case. He focused himself and drew a smidgen of his power. His perception changed and he could feel the world as it was. The men out front weren't lying, at least they didn't feel that they were. It was tempting to stay, to see more but he let go and opened the door. "Alright. Where are they?"
	The men were haggard and while not starved, they'd seen better days. They were young and one of them looked familiar but he'd seen so many faces that everyone looked familiar now. "Our fellows are just outside your clearing." The familiar looking one said, letting out a loud whistle.
	A dozen or so armed people appeared a moment later with a few weary horses. All of them looked the same and only one of them was mounted. He was younger than all the others, barely a man, and he held himself straight. Anon saw the litter that was being dragged by horses and cursed again. "The litter," Anon started. "What's wrong with him?"
	"Lost her arm," he said.
	Anon sighed, "Bring her inside. The rest of you can sleep in the barn. The close one, not the barn on the far side of the field." The men nodded and he turned around to prepare somewhere he could work on her. It wouldn't be his best work but it would be better than whatever they had done for her. At three days old though, Anon doubted he'd be able to help her. She would be past the point of no return by now. The folding table he kept stored came out and he wiped it down with some alcohol. He found his medical kit, laid it out, and waited.
	Having so many people in his home wasn't something he liked. Especially when they were all armed with swords. They couldn't be random nobodies. But they didn't carry any standards and the youngster on the horse didn't look like some commoner. Probably some young noble on an adventure with his retainers gone awry is what he was betting. It wouldn't be the first time he'd seen it.
	The door opened slowly and three people carried the litter inside. It was the man whose face he knew, the young likely-to-be noble, and a third man he hadn't met yet. "Set that thing down and get her on the table," Anon ordered. He got his first good look at the woman. Today was full of surprises from him. She was one of the tribesmen from the Southern Plains, a cheetah. Anon caught a glimpse of her fur pattern as they lifted her to the table. The spots on her back were replaced by dark stripes. This wasn't just a normal tribeswoman, she was a Kingsguard. He looked around, the young man was avoiding his gaze. It all came together in his mind.
	"You," he pointed at the first man he recognized and said in English. "What's your name?"
	"Dontus," he answered.
	"I knew it! You looked too familiar. And you," he pointed at the young man. "You're the prince. One of them, at least." It was too long since he'd been in the palace and news didn't spread quickly out here. But it would be the only reason he’d be with a Kingsguard.
	The prince blanched and grabbed the hilt of his sword. "Dontus, you clout. You've given us away."
	Anon raised his gun. "Hand off the sword, prince. And don't even try it, Dontus. So prince has decided to pay me a visit?" The third man just backed away slowly with his hands away from his sword. He obviously knew what Anon was holding.
	The prince looked around and a flash of recognition went through him. He let go of his sword and introduced himself. "Prince Dalton. And it seems like we found you by accident, Lord Anon."
	"Why are you here? What do you want? And how did you recognize me?" Anon had done everything in his power to remove himself from history. There were no surviving records or descriptions and no one was old enough to remember him doing it. He shouldn't have been recognized, even by royalty.
	"You missed a portrait. It's hanging in the royal quarters in the palace." Doltan answered. "And we only wanted shelter, honestly."
	"That still doesn't explain why you're here." Anon’s temper was rising. 
	"I can explain everything. But she won’t survive the night if we keep at it," he motioned toward the cat woman. “There has to be something you can do. Just save her, please.”
	Anon grunted and lowered the gun, turning to the woman now laying on the table. She was covered in makeshift bandages. Her breathing was shallow and she was burning up when he checked her temperature. "I'll do what I can." He said, bidding them to leave. "We can talk in the morning. Now leave me.” 
	The third man decided to speak up at that moment. “Sir, I- er… My lord, I’d like to stay. I may not be a doctor per say, but my father was and I picked up a few things when I was young.” 
	“Fine,” he acquiesced. “I could use an assistant. Now you two shoo, I don’t want to be distracted.”

***

	The sun was starting to filter through the window when Dalton opened the door. Anon looked up from his breakfast, "Most people knock first."
	"O-oh, right," Dalton said abashedly. His eyes wandered from Anon to the guard who had stayed to the Kingsguard before widening. "A metal arm? They said you were a powerful mage but I never would've thought you'd do that."
	The guard looked pale. “I saw things I never thought possible. Maybe the church was right...”
	"I didn't make it," Anon replied nonchalantly. "Found it out back." That was easier to explain than the crashed spaceship he'd found it in. He was surprised when he found out it was compatible with human biology. "What's her name?"
	"Aryah." Doltan shuffled his feet. “Will she live?”
	"Take a seat," he pointed at ther chair across from him. "Aryah was delirious last night. I put her to sleep and got to work. An infection set had already set in and spread through her blood. It would’ve been an act of God to save her if I hadn’t replaced her arm.” Anon thought about how to explain it. “It’s an advanced machine, more intricate than anything you or I could make. It can keep her alive for now.”
	The prince was relieved at that. “Thank you.”
	“Now,” Anon continued. “Tell the friendly doctor all your other problems.”
	Dalton looked at him mildly annoyed and crossed his arms. "We have been deposed."
	"Deposed? Wouldn't be the first time. How'd you survive?" It also wouldn't be the first time he'd restored the Emperor.
	"I was out hunting when they ambushed me. The royal guard was slaughtered. She," he nodded toward Aryah, "is the only reason I made it out. The palace was in chaos when we made it back. I took whoever was still loyal with me and ran. I found out the hard way that the governors are loyal to deposer, a Council mage by the name of Gorn. Now-"
	"Council mage?" Anon interrupted. "And you're sure his name was Gorn?"
	"Yes. There's black magic at work in the Empire. We've seen... creatures." He said.
	That was the last thing he wanted to hear. The Council of Mages were lunatics and Gorn was one of the worst. "They do seem to go hand in hand. So what attacked you a few days ago? Undead? Orcs?"
	"A dragon. She alone fought it off, took its eye before it fled."
	That did explain the burns. And it was damn impressive. "Well," Anon sighed. "If the Council is in play then I guess that I'll have to help."

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