Michael was standing guard outside, still holding his halberd tightly as ever. He sighed on his lonesome.
He couldn't help but feel tense, 'Where are the maids? I could swear this place was filled with life just a day ago... Did something happen? It's true that the Consort suddenly requested my aid, is this why?'
Yet his memories fell through his fingers like sand; he could remember everything, yet all of it felt twisted. Were there truly maids here? What maintained The Ark, his armor, and... Why did he feel like it also maintained him?
Michael's grip tightened in revolt.
'I should seek out the other Paragons when I can for a meeting. The parliamentary hall has been unused for a while now, and the throne of the God-King lies empty. We must protect the Consort; he's the only leader we have left.'
He glanced at Charice as he stepped through, standing at attention immediately.
"...Michael?" Charice asked, face softening, "You..." He didn't finish his sentence, instead looking at the redness in his stoic guard's eyes.
Michael smiled, "No need to fear, Consort, I got plenty of rest."
He didn't; his concerns prompted him to remain awake all night. Not to mention, he had to ensure the safety of the Consort personally.
"Okay... I want to see Abra..."
"Right," Michael nodded with a hint of worry in his eyes.