This solo is backdated to July 11th and the Mistral event.

Once they’d all gone home, whisked away on the wings of the Code, Babylon set about clearing up their mess. He gathered up the empty bottles of wine to rinse and save - perhaps he’d need them later, and whole glass was something of a limited resource on Mercury - followed by the glasses, which he washed and set out to dry. The kitchen was in good shape. It didn’t need any work. This had been Menachem’s home, and while he felt like a trespasser here, the whole city was rightfully his. This home was his family’s and it was his right to take it.

Turning, he was surprised to see Raziele standing before him, draped in the ceremonial uniform of her her station. She held a glass in her hand - a sprinkling of ice cubes and some blue liquid that matched the crystal decanter on the counter behind her. After a moment, she looked up, locking eyes with him. “Now that Asimov’s gone,” she said. “I can speak frankly with you. I don’t think the knights of Mistral will ever return to the Labyrinth.”

Babylon registered shock at her pronouncement. They have so far remained optimistic about the state of the war and their lines. But perhaps he misjudged her. “How long have you felt that way?” he asked.

Raziele glanced off towards the empty dining room. “Since before we started locking up the labyrinth. If I’d thought we’d be back I’d have left more research intact and locked down. Mark my words, brother. The only people who will re-enter that wonder will be Chaos-tainted barbarians and tomb raiders.”

She practically spat the last word of it. Babylon frowned. “I know you laid traps,” he said, and Raziele grinned wickedly at her brother.

“Oh,” she said. “I laid traps. Horrible traps. They can try to take my labyrinth, but all they’ll find is death awaiting them. Chaos will never take Mistral. Raiders will never take Mistral. It is my birthright and if I am its last night then I’ll do everything in my power to see it shuttered forever…”

Perhaps there was something in his expression that said this was a bit harsh. Raziele’s expression softened. “Of course if your foolish optimism proves correct and our lines return one day, Mistral will never attack its own knight. Any others will need to earn the labyrinth’s trust. I would never create a minefield I couldn’t disarm.”

The ice clinked in her glass. Raziele’s expression became icy again. “But,” she said, “I doubt you’re right.”

The vision ended. Babylon staggered backwards from the vision, bracing himself against the countertop. It would have been good information to have before they tried to take the Labyrinth, he thought. It would have saved lives if they’d known in advance how deadly the traps set would be. But… he couldn’t hold that against Mistral. She couldn’t have known. The memory lived here, in his wonder and his mind. If anyone was to blame, it was likely Babylon.

He took one more look at the dining room, but it was cleaner now than it had been when they found it. Babylon sank into a chair and stared towards the windows at the front of the house, watching the faintest force field try to flicker in the empty frames.

It had been a long day, he thought. Perhaps he’d sleep before returning home.