Months passed again. Quatre's nineteenth birthday came and went, and though the countries problems lessened in one extent, they worsened in another. After some subtle pressure from Quatre, several aristocrats resigned their title and passed it on to sons or daughters. The king, now almost perpetually furious, asked his son about the matter.
Quatre would shrink back a little, and then say, "But father, all I did was tell them that when I would become king I would make sure that everyone was living up to their title. It is no my fault if they thought they were unworthy."
King Winner would once again bellow about his private spy, Trowa.
"He has nothing to do with this, father," the prince would reply.
However, this good news was actually bad in disguise. Whoever the chief motivator was in engineering this slow revolt had planned too well. For he had taken into account that someone might come to gather information. So this mastermind simply became subtler. He or she took to more influence over the common people, calling secret rallies and circling vicious rumors. The prince has a spy, the rumors went. He sneaks out at night and learns how best to subjugate the people. If you see him, do not say anything. He is a monster, you see. He can hear whispers in great distances. He may even be able to hear your thoughts. So when you see this forest prince, you will say and do nothing, even think nothing. If he walks up to you and asks you a question, give him no reply, just as he would you in his arrogant and rude foreign mind. And if he persists, then walk away. Do not provoke him by any means.
However, as clever as this usurper of power was, Trowa was more so. Since his stay, Quatre had shown him all the ins and outs of the castle and the city. He could slip into a room with even less notice than before, and the former performer called upon his sister, Catherine, more often. As cook, she gained all sorts of knowledge threw talking to her fellow cooks and by listening to the people she served. Her relationship to Trowa was a little known fact, so her ability to do so was not hindered in the slightest.
As a result of these changes, the information prince Quatre received became less so, but it was not hampered greatly as the mastermind had wanted.
But it did disturb him.

One day, in the early summer, king Winner called an emergency meeting. The entire family was expected to attend. So when the desert prince entered the council room, he was not surprised to find all twenty-nine of his sisters, the forty Maguanac corps, Catherine, and his assistant, Trowa, crammed around the large room.
It was very noisy, but Quatre had learned from the forest prince not to listen to it and instead to what was being said. He made a note of Iria's and his other sister's positions, what their bodyguards the Maguanacs felt, and where they stood on certain problems. Gathering the information, he filed it and carefully made the necessary altercations to his proposals so that almost everyone would agree with him. Almost.
Quatre's largest problem sat directly opposite him, glaring at him with uncustomary indignation. Actually, Quatre had been expecting it. If his father was worried enough to call an emergency meeting of the immediate family, then he knew enough that his now every opinionated son would want to make suggestions. So be it. Quatre was ready. He had been ready since this meeting was called. Normally when he was summoned by his father, he had a feeling of dread and general dislike as to what would happen. Today, however, he was calm. Detached even. He could not explain it. He sat down next to Trowa with graceful ease.
::Are you nervous?:: the forest prince asked.
::Oddly enough, no. It is strange. I would think that I would be petrified. But I am not.::
::That is a good thing. It means that you are confident in yourself. You will do well.::
::Thank you.::
"Really, Quatre," Iria said. "I understand that you and that servant have this secret language in which to communicate, but could you please be considerate of we others who may not know it?"
The desert prince nodded. "Forgive me, Iria. Trowa was just telling me that it was a good thing to be confident."
He eldest sister had a confused expression on her face. "Why not say that out loud, little Quatre? It is an innocent enough remark for him to vocalize it, is it not?"
"This is true, but there is enough noise in this room as it is. We did not want to add to it."
Iria nodded. "Then forgive my ignorance. I apologize." Then she added, "My future king."
Anyone in earshot laughed at the remark and it was not long after that the meeting officially began.
"As I'm sure everyone knows," King Winner began. "For the past several years, we've been in he midst of a crisis. Someone has been spreading vicious rumors about our family and reeking havoc somehow on the economy, making it appear as if we are squandering our money. I have talked and talked and talked to the people. However, lately they have claimed that I lie. Clearly, this means that things are starting to spread very far. We must do something. And I have called this meeting so as to listen to suggestions. Who would be first?"
Iria raised her hand and stood. "Father, why not let prince Quatre state his opinion first. In just under a year he will ascend the throne. Why not let him tell us what he thinks in order to find out if he will be a good king?"
Winner cringed noticeably. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you Iria. However, in the midst of such a problem as this we must keep our priorities straight. Fixing this problem comes first, not testing a boy to see if he is yet a man."
Several murmurs came up from the family and Avdul quickly stood up. "But sire! If master Quatre is to be king, then surely he must be allowed this opportunity. We will be able to judge if he is capable or not!"
Several agreeing comments rose.
King Winner thought about it slowly. "Oh, alright. Let the boy speak."
"Thank you, Iria," the prince whispered before standing up. Dozens of expectant faces looked to him, and for a brief moment he wondered if he could do this. That thought disappeared, however, as soon as he opened his mouth. "As I am sure everyone knows by now, for the past year I have been gathering information as to what has been going on. How informed is everyone?"
"Not very," one of his sisters replied. "My estate is pretty remote. Pretend everyone's is."
"As you wish," Quatre answered, bowing slightly to the sister. "My information states that somewhere in the nobility, someone most likely wants our throne. This person, I will assume a he, has made some long and very calculated plans as to go about his goal. They started I think even before I was born-"
"Actually," Iria interrupted. "It started at your birth. Who ever it was must have been upset that there was a definitive heir."
"Really? That helps things somewhat. At any rate. This person began very slowly, spreading some inaccurate rumors among the rest of the nobility and the middle class. They began innocently enough and gradually grew in malice and untruth. While most people did not believe such impossibilities, once told over and over it is at the very least hard to ignore. This evil mind also engineered certain economical crises. Most likely he withheld his money to traders and merchants, claiming that money was tight with a broken economy. As a result of this, he caused many downswings and depressions for our people. We attempted to correct the matter, by talking to the people and by saying that there was nothing wrong. But once a sandstorm starts, it is very difficult to stop.
"This person went further with the rumors and economic problems over the next several years. Do to the ineffectiveness of talking-"
"What?!"
"I am sorry, father, but this is an obvious truth. Due to the ineffectiveness of talking, several other nobles caught wind of an impending overthrow and made alliances to secure their positions in the new regime. These people, apparently tired of the total pacifism and all around niceness of our family began taking matters of their own estates into their own hands. These people have since resigned their titles, passing them to better educated children."
"Why on earth did they do that?" Avdul asked.
"Perhaps because I hinted toward the fact that such behavior as theirs would be highly intolerable in my regime."
"You had no right to do that!" King Winner yelled.
Quatre looked to his father, feigned surprise on his face. "Really?" he asked. "I was not aware that there was a rule forbidding a prince to tell fellow nobles his ideas when he was to take the throne. When was that written, father?"
The king muttered something under his breath but otherwise kept quiet.
"As I was saying. This mastermind is indeed a mastermind. He learned how I was gathering my information and took steps to prevent it."
"And how were you getting the information?" someone asked.
"Mostly by my personal assistant, Trowa." Quatre gestured and the servant stood. "He, through his own means, has been getting the information I seek and informing me of it."
"Could one inquire as to how he receives the information?" the same voice asked.
Quatre smiled. "That is simple. He is a deaf/mute."
Several "WHAT??!!"s erupted from the crowd, King Winner's being among the loudest.
"DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT THAT BOY IS DEAF AND DUMB??!!"
"My brother is not dumb!" Catherine muttered under her breath. However, she knew enough not to interrupt such and important meeting. However, he face flushed in anger and her eyes narrowed.
Winner glared at the desert prince. "If that boy is a deaf/mute, then what on earth makes you think that he is a reliable source??"
Quatre blinked in surprise. "You mean, you haven't figured it out by now? Haven't you ever noticed the hand gestures he makes and I return to him? Or the fact that he can understand what people are saying? He can read lips. And he has his own language, his own means of communication."
"Prove it!" his father shouted.
Trowa, meanwhile had been writing furiously on a piece of parchment. He got up and walked to his king, bowing as he handed the paper to him. The desert king snatched in and skimmed over it with his eyes.
"What is it?" Quatre asked.
"A transcript of what has just been said for the last several minutes. That means that he is not deaf."
Trowa shook his head and made a gesture.
"He says that he is quiet deaf, father," Quatre answered, almost smugly, knowing something that his father did not. He felt a strange power in confronting his father in this way, in front of the entire family in such a way that they could see just what he could be capable of. It was empowering. "And besides, he is as reliable as they come. Surely even you have noticed that he can slip in and out of a room without notice and read what everyone is saying? He can quote directly from conversations that he 'overhears'. It is not new. He has been doing such things since childhood."
Iria raised her hand tentatively. "So what did the would-be over thrower do to prevent your… uh… assistant from gathering information?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Well," Quatre answered. "He started spreading rumors about Trowa personally, urging people not to talk when he was in the room. That worked only to a small degree, since people often do not notice when one such as this forest prince enters a room, as he does so so quietly. And he was not the only one to gather information. Which was why I asked his sister to accompany me in this meeting. Catherine?"
The former entertainer stood. "Hello. My name is Catherine Bloom, assistant chef in the kitchen."
"You are using a cook as an informant???" Winner fumed.
"I was also a knife thrower and a performer, sire. I know how to manipulate a crowd to do what I want. Would you like a demonstration?" A trace of acid laced her voice left over from the kings remark about her brother being dumb.
"Wait, back up," a Maguanac said. "You're his sister? But you can talk and stuff."
"My brothers disabilities were the result of an illness as a child."
"Both Catherine and Trowa have excellent minds for retaining knowledge," Quatre said. "Both can repeat conversations verbatim and both can easily gather any information that I request. We communicated with each other via Trowa's language to incur security. People did not know what the movement of hands meant, and therefore did not know what we were talking about. And as an added bonus, is we were meeting in secret, not a one could discover our hiding place, since our conversations were, in effect, in silence.
"I have therefore come to the following conclusion. There are three things that we must do. First and foremost, we must begin defending ourselves. This evil nobleman knows that we are onto him, and he is stepping up his plans. We have reason to believe that within months, he will rally the laymen into an out and out revolt."
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??!!"
"I do not wish to depart from our father's pacifist ideal. Therefore, I propose that we strengthen our defenses. That requires thickening our walls, increasing our security, increasing our combat lessons."
"You just said-"
"By our combat lessons I mean that we must become so proficient in our swordplay that when in combat we will be able to disarm, at worst wound, our opponent. I do not wish to draw blood, and I will not if I can at all help it. Second, I suggest that everyone look to a trusted advisor and start looking for reliable informants. The more information we can dig up on our still unknown adversary the sooner we can disarm him, hopefully before the planned revolt.
"Third, we must do our resolute best to reverse all the years of damage our name has endured. We make a great profit off of the people's efforts. That is part and parcel of a monarchy. But we do not need all the excess that we have. Without hurting ourselves, we can give back plenty of money to the community. We can build more schools, encourage apprenticeships, or improve the conditions of our estates and our cities. There is a plethora of things that we cant to for the benefit of our people."
The desert prince, having said his say, sat down by Trowa.
"Are those acceptable conclusions and suggestions for a future king?"
There was silence. Sister looked to each other, Maguanacs grinned foolishly. All had no idea what to say.
A clap. Then another. Once person was clapping for his prince and his ideas on how to help his wounded country. Those claps became two. Then three. The entire family and the Maguanac corps applauded the desert prince.
"QUIET!!"
That was the king.
He stood to his full height, and imposing size that no one else in the room could match, not even the towering Rashid. He walked over to the prince, his closed fists shaking in rage. Several sisters backed away from the man who radiated anger. Even Trowa, ever calm, tensed slightly as the king approached his prince.
"You! You would dare go against my own teachings?? You propose the fight?? How dare you!! No heir is going to endanger the teachings the Winner family has established and practiced for centuries! What do you think you are doing? What do you think this is? A game? A play?! You talk of me tarnishing our good name. Well, boy, you would do so far worse than I ever could. No heir is going to disgrace my family, my name, nor my country by such a blasphemous and bloodthirsty act!"
"Father, I would not-"
"I SAID SILENCE!!!!!!!! You behave nothing like the heir I groomed you to be! Your decisions are poorly made and based upon the supposed ravings of a DEAF/MUTE!! You have failed for the last time! I will find ANOTHER heir more appropriate for MY kingdom!! Now get out!!"
There was finally silence as the meaning of the king's words hit home.
"I said GET OUT!!!!!"
Quatre snapped.
The desert prince stood slowly. Though he was small for his age of nineteen, he had a regal heir about him. His face demanded obedience, and his eyes were narrow in a rage of his own.
"Tell me, father," he said, his hands moving fluidly in the language of Trowa as he spoke. "Are you really so afraid of me?"
"WHAT???"
Quatre's voice was very calm, and very quiet. Were it not for the almost deadly silence he would not have been heard. "I am serious," he said. "Do you so fear that I will be a better king than you? Are you so insecure about your own regime? Surely even in your tradition bound mind, you understand deep down that what I have proposed is the best thing to do. I do not think that even you can miss that. So why, I wonder, are you so against my opinions? Why are you so afraid to be wrong? If that is so then you are a coward."
"WHAT???"
"You've already said that, father. I will reiterate. You are a coward. You refuse to defend yourself and you family and you name. You cannot admit when you are wrong; and you will do anything to prove that you are right. You have run out of arguments, father. And I am tired of trying to convince you."
The desert prince turned and moved to leave the conference room.
"Where do you think you are going?? We are not finished yet."
Quatre turned to the man, his face blank. "No father. We are."
Trowa got up as well to follow his prince, Catherine not far behind.
"I forbid you to leave!!"
Quatre actually laughed. "First you cannot wait for me to go, and now you forbid me to leave? Really father. A king must not be so indecisive."
The desert prince left the family to their own devices.

Quatre was able to make it to his room before he broke down. Trowa and Catherine were close behind him and knew enough to shut the door so that they would have some privacy.
"What have I done??" the prince asked, burying his head into the nearest shoulder, Trowa's. "I have ruined everything! I am no longer heir! My father now hates me! My sisters probably abhor me! I am the worst being on this earth! Oh, what have I done?!" There were several minutes of sobbing and the desert prince let out all the feelings he had hid before his family. The siblings waited until the crying abated. When that happened the prince pulled away and looked to his two best friends. "I apologize deeply for getting you involved in this. I had no idea that father would disinherit me. Any hopes of saving my relationship with him are ruined now. He will never allow my suggestions now."
"Quatre, listen to me," Catherine said gently. "What you did in that room was nothing shy of miraculous. Do you hear me, Quatre? For the first time in your life, you stood up to your father! You did not yell at him. You did not beg him, nor did you plead with him. You told him in simple words exactly what he was doing. Quatre? I do not believe that anyone has ever done that to him. And in front of your family no less! Quatre, you have so much to be proud of this day. I was talking with all of your sisters before you came. You knew that right? Do you have any idea how proud they all are of you? And did you not watch their faces as you stood up to the king? They were beaming! Surely you noticed that, right? Quatre, you cannot question everything you do. If you do that, then you will be a very poor king. You have done good today, accept that!"
Quatre sniffed, smiled, and rubbed his red eyes. "Thank you, Catherine."
Trowa motioned to the desert prince and he looked. ::Besides,:: he said. ::I do not ever recall seeing you father say no, did I?::
The desert prince's smile suddenly widened.

In Duo's home, is was early spring, and as such, he and his bodyguard Heero were able to travel by sea, making the journey in the two weeks that Quatre had taken a year ago. Once there, the pair were greeted warmly by cousin Quatre and were soon put to work in giving proper lessons to the members of the castle in sword fighting. Such lessons had always been part and parcel of growing up in Quatre's country. However, it was a ceremonial sport that was quickly forgotten once family had left for their estates. Now, the Maguanacs and the sisters redoubled their efforts; relearning old skills and improving them with the gentle tutelage of Duo; strengthening their bodies and quickening their movements under the cold glares of Heero. It proved to be a winning combination.
Outside the classroom, the castle walls were strengthened, as per Quatre's suggestion. Several other modification were made, at the expert suggestions of Heero, as he planned the proper defense of the castle. Trowa and Catherine slowly brought in more people to their little intelligence circle. Diversity and variety were what was needed; and it was not long before all of the recruits knew the rudimentary grammar of Trowa's sign language. Information started to come in the familiar larger bursts that Trowa had been able to gather before his reputation had been attacked. Catherine was put in charge of organizing the information and Trowa continued his quiet observation. Before hand he had ventured little outside the castle aside from familiarizing himself with the city. Now he traversed the streets in silent confidence, dressed in his old performers outfit and performing tricks. People would throw him coins, and upon learning that he was a deaf/mute, go about their business in sufficient security that no one would understand them. Such a new resource created a wealth of information. And as the days passed, Quatre's circle carefully pieced together the information of when and how the staged attack would occur as he and his family prepared for it.
One day, Catherine came running into Quatre's room with a smile on her face. "We have her! We have her!"
The desert prince blinked, and Trowa stopped his tutelage of a new recruit, one beggar named Une.
::Who do you have?:: her brother asked.
::We know who the traitor is! We finally figured out who's been pulling the strings!:: Catherine said excitedly. It was several minutes before she could compose herself enough not to talk while she signed.
::Please do not leave us in suspense, Catherine,:: Quatre said.
::We finally have a name to match the face. Her name is Dorothy. Dorothy Catalonia. She entered the nobility when she was ten, an orphan. Her parents had been attacked by nomadic thieves and killed. She blamed king Winner for his pacifist beliefs, but out of pity, he promoted her to the higher aristocracy. She's been planning this since Quatre's birth, as Iria said. Dorothy has a small army of helpers. We don't have all the names yet, but we will by the end of the month.::
::That may be too late,:: Trowa said. ::My information suggests that the attack on the castle will occur within the next weeks. Her underlings will begin rallies at various points of the city and insight them to riot. That is when they will storm the castle.::
Une rose her hand. "You are all going a little fast for me."
Quatre smiled gently. He signed as the talked. "I'm sorry about that. This information is very important. The three of us have been speaking this language much longer than you. I will explain everything when it is over, is that alright?"
"You had better not," Une replied. "My knowledge of the information may make me a liability to you. It would be best if I were kept in the dark. Tell me when you feel it best."
Quatre's smile widened. ::Thank you,:: he said.
::You are welcome,:: she replied. ::I will take my leave now.:: "I would not want to catch a stray word."
::Very true. Come back in an hour.::
"As you wish."
The desert prince turned back to the chattering siblings. ::So what exactly is going on?::
::We are finally starting to get a detailed picture. The attack will occur within the next two weeks. After that, Dorothy will approach the king and suggest that it may be best for the people if he stepped down. Her arguments would be compounded by the recent attack and then for good measure, the killing of you in battle. Grief stricken, he would concede. She has already skillfully manipulated those noble politicians to let her take the throne.::
::End game.:: Trowa finished for his sister.
::Is there anyway we can stop it? I do not want my family and myself fighting my own people.::
Trowa shook his head. ::It would be best if you did. Your father has been stressing pacifism to a fault. You need to demonstrate to the laymen just what your definition of pacifism means-fighting without bloodshed.::
::But,:: Quatre protested. ::Can I really fight against my own people?::
A brief smile touched the forest princes' lips. ::A rule of human nature. When faced with battle of life and death; all people will choose life, at the expense of others if needs be. We have been teaching your family the proper way to fight in accordance with your teachings. Now you must teach the people.::

This is the last of it. Promise.