The plot to overthrow his father had been revealed before reaching fruition. His efforts had been temporarily put on pause. At least for now, Rufus would have to bide his time quietly however much his blood was boiling in his veins. Junon was sickeningly peaceful, and as much as he wished to begin moving again, his father had placed him under house arrest with only you to guard him.

“This is as much a sentence for you as it is for me,” remarks Rufus, arms clasped behind his back as he looks out at the peaceful Junon landscape from his window. He knows your name; you were once a Turk high up the ladder who suddenly wasn’t assigned out on missions anymore. Now you were little else than a lowly probation officer, and this mission had no foreseeable end date.

“They wiped their hands of you, didn’t they?” Rufus surmises, referring to your Turks. He’s curious about what you did and if he could use it to his own advantage. Perhaps you could even help each other.