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Vesuvian,” a soldier said.
“Besides, we're not expecting anyone until tomorrow.”
    “What should we do?” Another asked.
    “Alert the Guardians,” said Thomas, passing
by. “I'll deal with the Vesuvian.”
    Leon waited as the gate opened and Thomas
passed through, approaching him at a brisk pace.
    Several soldiers gathered along the wall and
began to whisper among themselves. “He’s crazy.”
    “He's an Elite. He can handle it.”
    Thomas pulled his halo from its holster as he
closed in.
    Leon didn't even get a chance to speak before
having to dodge a swipe from the halo that could have split his
head in two.
    Minutes later, back at the Guardian's ball, a
soldier burst through the doors, bringing the party to an abrupt
stop. “There's a Vesuvian outside the gate!”
    Immediately, everyone scrambled to the
nearest armory.
    “What's going on?” Marian shouted.
    “Wait here,” Sara said, running off with the
rest of the Guardians.
    Leon grabbed his staff and began using it to
block many of Thomas' strikes.
    Thomas was stronger and much more imposing
than Sara, but slower. He found it difficult to land any hits even
when he feinted.
    There were a few times here and there where
Leon had to eat a punch or a kick just to avoid the halo’s razor
edges.
    Sara arrived at the wall with several
Guardians. She recognized Leon almost immediately. “It's him,” she
whispered to herself.
    Thomas was becoming more exhausted and
frustrated by the second. As he swung wide, Leon ducked under and
grabbed him by the arm, flinging Thomas several yards through the
air. He landed with a thud.
    A few of the people along the wall gasped in
horror.
    Leon reached into small knapsack around his
waist and pulled out a small roll of paper, then tossed it in front
of Thomas.
     
     
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    In the Great Hall, all of the Guardians who'd
gathered the day had returned.
    “What does it say?” Philip asked.
    “Alliance,” Henry responded.
    The room was silent, though the air was
filled with a sense of confusion.
    “Alliance?” Philip repeated.
    “Some kind of trick?” Thomas suggested.
    “Could be,” Arthur said. “But if that's the
case, the question isn't why, but why now?”
    Some in the room seemed even more
baffled.
    “Arthur, can you elaborate?” Henry asked.
    “This can't be a trick,” Arthur began. “At
least I don't think so. If it is, it sure took the Vesuvians a long
time to think of. None of the Rheans have ever tried to trick us
before, not like this, and they're not stupid. This is completely
unprecedented. Think of it. Open talk, trade, exchange of
information.”
    Philip asked. “Where's the Vesuvian who
delivered this message?”
    Thomas spoke. “Ten minutes ago, he was still
outside the gate.”
    Henry looked to Arthur. “What could have
possibly happened for the Vesuvians to be so desperate all of a
sudden?”
    “Who knows,” Arthur said. “But the important
thing to remember is that they're requesting an alliance, not
peace.”
    “Good point,” Philip said. “An alliance
usually means to join forces against another.”
    “Forget it!” Thomas laughed. “We’ve pursued
peace with them countless times and they’ve never cooperated. Let
them sweat it out this time.”
    Arthur was quick to counter. “According to
Sara, our Guardian who fought the Vesuvians two nights ago, it
appeared as though the Vesuvians were not cooperating, perhaps even
fighting each other. Now I don't know what that means-”
    “I'll tell you what it means.” Thomas
snapped. “It's all part of some plan to trick us into this
‘alliance.’”
    “Enough!” Philip said. “Both of you have
valid arguments, but there is simply no way to be sure at this
time.”
    After a moment of silence, Arthur spoke.
“There may be a way.”
    Philip looked to him. “How?”
    “Let’s talk to the Vesuvian before jumping to
conclusions.”
    “Doesn't mean he won't lie,” Thomas said.
    Arthur became visibly