Far away from the roaring chaos of the colosseum, where Celestia and Selena were standing locked in their silent clash, two other figures observed as if the Empire itself bent around their existence.
A soft voice broke the silence, crisp yet edged with unease.
"Your Imperial Highness… there are now two who have broken free from the authority of Imperial bloodline. It may become… problematic."
The words came from a small figure no taller than three feet a strange childlike being, his body mechanical yet eerily lifelike. His round glassy eyes gleamed with expressions far too human, and his ever-present smile lent him an almost innocent charm. Yet the intricate lines carved into his face, the seams of fine golden alloy that marked his limbs, betrayed his artificial nature. At the center of his forehead glowed a sigil a platinum crown crossed with twin greatswords the unmistakable crest of Imperial servitude. The Imperial Crest.
