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That morning, under a bright and cold sun, you wake with a good feeling in your gut. A feeling that today might be the day that you leave this damn mountain, hopefully never to return. With each hour that passes, the feeling sinks its claws deeper and deeper into you. Restless, you pace the manor grounds between time spent gazing wistfully through the grimy windows at the path beyond the walls.

Then, finally, you see movement – the first of many wagons to rumble slowly into view. You stare at them for a long moment, as if you can't quite believe that they're really here. To actually see the object of your imagination after so long feels unreal, like you might still be dreaming. Then, shaking off your wonder, you hurry to gather your companions and open the outer gates.

It's time to leave.

-

“So...” Bear begins, looking around in confusion, “Where's the old boy?”

“Munroe is... unavailable,” you answer vaguely, watching as the few remaining servants mechanically unload crates and barrels from the wagons. It's good that they're here - if the King really sends his men to the manor as you hope, they'll need supplies.

“Unavailable,” the heavyset man repeats, squinting up at the manor windows as if expecting to see the old servant peering out. He thinks for what seems like a very long time, then shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, “So long as we're getting paid for this delivery, it really doesn't matter to me. You guys want a lift down the mountain?”

“Absolutely,” you confirm, “I thought you'd never ask.”

-

You're endlessly impressed by the capacity for blindness and deafness that well-paid men are capable of. Despite the fact that you load Eleanora onto a wagon with hands bound and mouth gagged, Bear's men don't even spare her a second glance. They simply make some room on the wagon for the extra passenger and carry on with their work. For her part, the Martense girl glares at you with her pale blue eyes and gnaws at her gag in frustration. You feel no guilt about keeping her gagged – she has nothing to say that might be worth listening to.

After the initial rush of fear and rage cools, you notice a new fascination creep into Eleanora's eyes. She gazes about her as the wagon rumbles down the mountain, passing ridges lined with trees and long grass. This must feel like a whole other reality compared with the dark, subterranean world that she grew up with. A shame, then, that she'll only have the chance to experience this new world for a very short time.
>>
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>>6088666

Previous: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Moloch

The convoy slowly grinds its way down the mountains, stopping overnight at the squalid, nameless village before resuming its journey. While you stop to rest, you notice Jan carefully taking off Eleanora's gag and talking quietly with her. You consider stepping in to prevent it, but decide against it. She's behaved herself so far. If she starts to act up now that her gag is gone, you'll come down on her like a hammer.

Delayed by a stop for repairs, the convoy rolls into Portsmaw later than planned. With no trains departing for the capital until the morning, you're forced to find a room for the night. At first, this presents a problem – you shudder at the thought of trying to drag Eleanora into a fine hotel without making a scene – but then you remember Juno's squalid dockside hotel, a place that wouldn't ask any awkward questions.

Herding your captive into the dim, dismal upstairs room, you lock the door and dump your luggage onto one of the beds. Eleanora wanders across to the window and peers out, seemingly hypnotised by the raindrops striking against the glass – or, perhaps, considering the window's possibility as an escape route. She traces the falling raindrops with her fingers, long nails scraping against the glass.

“I can't do this,” Daniel announces, scowling at Eleanora, “I've got to get out of here.”

“We just got here,” Ariel groans, “Can't you just sit still for a few hours?”

“I've done nothing but sit still for the last few days,” the soldier complains, “We're finally back in civilisation, and I want to enjoy it. Good food, good drink...”

It's more than that, of course. After so long at the Iron Keep, isolated high up in the mountains, he desperately craves the warmth and life of a bustling city, and strong wine to blot out the memories of everything that transpired in the tunnels beneath the manor.

“Well I think it's an excellent idea!” Elle announces stubbornly, “I'll join you.”

“You, uh, you will?” Daniel looks around in surprise, “Miss Legrasse-”

“What's wrong? I'm allowed to have a little fun too, aren't I?” she asks, “I don't want to stay cooped up in here any more than you do.”

An awkward silence follows, broken only by the methodical screech of Eleanora's nails on the window. “I can stay here and keep an eye on her,” Ariel sighs eventually, “I napped on the ride down, so I can keep watch overnight.”

“That's settled then!” Daniel announces, “It's the perfect plan. Bard, are you in?”

>I don't think so. I'll stay here and keep watch with Ariel
>I'd rather not. I want to go out and have some time alone
>Count me in. I could certainly use the distraction
>Other
>>
>>6088667
>I don't think so. I'll stay here and keep watch with Ariel
I have had a terrible premonition of this feral cannibal doing something unspeakable to our poor androgynous friend.
>>
>>6088667
>Nah, I’ll stay and help keep watch
Elle supervising Jan flashbacks
>>
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“I don't think so. I'll stay here and keep watch too,” you decide, shaking your head, “I'd rather not leave her here with just one person to stand guard. That's just asking for trouble.”

“I'm here too!” Jan points out, trying to look confident and offended at the same time.

“I know,” you answer bluntly, “And that's what worries me.”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, you regret them. With a wounded grimace, Jan's gaze drops down to the floor. Daniel looks between you for a moment, then forces a laugh. “Well, suit yourselves,” he remarks, “But I know a nice little club here in Portsmaw. You're really missing out!”

“Just go if you're going to go,” you tell him, flapping a hand at the door, “Just leave us in peace.”

Relative peace, that is, as Eleanora draws another shrill screech out of the window.

-

Even Eleanora grows tired of her nonsense eventually, lapsing into a merciful silence. Jan sits in a frayed armchair with a book, reading or pretending to read, as the minutes slowly creep by and turn to hours. Ariel never lets her gaze stray away from Eleanora, her small revolver drawn and resting in her lap for immediate use. As the time drags on, you start to wonder if you're really needed here. Either Eleanora has more patience than you thought, or she truly has accepted her fate.

“A question, if I may,” the semi-human noble says suddenly, as if sensing your thoughts.

“Ask, if you really must,” you tell her with a dismissive sneer, “I can't promise you an answer though.”

Eleanora looks back to the window, then gestures out across the little slice of the city visible through the dirty glass. “This place,” she asks, “Do you really live like this? Crowded together like rats in a nest, choking on the smog filling the sky, hiding from the rain in squalid little holes like this...”

“I chose this place specially for you,” you remark, looking at the peeling wallpaper and damp stains on the ceiling, “I thought it might remind you of home.”

“How dare you!” she hisses, “This place is nothing like the Iron Keep. It has no history, no legacy. This place is an empty vessel that won't ever be filled. You'll forget about it as soon as you've left, and you won't even notice when it's torn down. This place, this whole city, is the same – crude, disposable, meaningless fodder for the masses.”

Eleanora spits these words out, her pale blue eyes flashing angrily in the darkness. When she's finished, her chest heaves with the effort of her outburst.

“All done?” you ask mildly, “Good.”

“Nothing to say?” she snarls, “You're not going to defend your precious city?”

“I never promised you an answer, remember?”

[1]
>>
>>6088686

Seething with petulant anger, Eleanora throws herself down on one of the hard, ugly beds. A short while later, unladylike snores start to rise up from the huddled lump of her form. Relief washes over you, and you allow yourself to lean back in your chair. Ariel yawns, checking her revolver over before returning it to its holster. As she does, she chews her lip as if struggling to put her thoughts into words.

“I mean, she's not completely wrong,” she admits eventually, “Portsmaw is an old city, sure, but there's barely a handful of buildings left from the original city. Everything else has been replaced by cheap shit like this. It's the same everywhere – even Siegfried House has been rebuilt and renovated so many times that it's basically a new building.”

Cheap shit like this dockside hotel, you think to yourself, or the luxury rooms for noble guests in the centre of the city. Both new, both bland and anonymous, just aimed at a different market.

“Not like the Pale Estate,” Ariel continues, a wistful smile creeping across her face, “Whenever I walk through the corridors there, I can FEEL the history. Not an oppressive weight like the Iron Keep, but something... uplifting.”

“I wish I could share your enthusiasm,” you sigh, “I don't have many good memories of that place.”

“Well, there's your problem,” she decides, slapping you on the shoulder, “You just need to make some good memories, and fast. You've got a lot of catching up to do.”

She's been spending too much time with Daniel – her cousin's cheerful behaviour is rubbing off on her. Though, it's an act that doesn't quite ring true coming from her – when the mood takes him, Daniel can be as bright and brilliant as the sun, whereas Ariel is more of a dark, enigmatic moon... like Gratia.

“What are you staring at?” Ariel asks, tilting her head to the side. Shaking your head, you look away from her.

“I'm going to try and catch a nap,” you mutter, “Wake me if anything happens.”

-

With a heavy hooded coat covering her unnatural complexion, Eleanora barely draws a passing glance as you bundle her onto the train. You're lucky that she doesn't seem in the mood to cause trouble, because you've got your hands full with keeping Elle upright. Pale and nauseous, she looks like a girl suffering from some terrible wasting disease. If you had to guess, you'd assume that this is her first attempt at some serious drinking. Probably her last attempt too.

“Ugh...” she groans, shuddering as the train lurches into motion, “Why do these things have to MOVE so much?”

“They tried selling a train that didn't move at all, but nobody bought it,” you remark, “I can't imagine why.”

Elle scowl at you, but can't quite summon up the strength for a witty retort.

[2/3]
>>
>>6088705

A few hours of rest on the train help drive back the worst of Elle's sickness, and a strong cup of tea helps sustain her. With Eleanora in tow, you hasten straight to the palace. After enduring the security checks and discretely explaining your story to the pretty blonde secretary at the front desk, you're soon whisked through to the King's private office. One glimpse of Eleanora's face seems to do wonders for rearranging the monarch's schedule.

Elle freezes as you're ushered into the meeting room, her gaze immediately drawn to the sickly looking woman sitting alongside King Albrecht. While you're glad to see that the King is taking you seriously, you're far from happy to see the Choirmaster here. With a smouldering cigarette in her hand, Eve Moreau listlessly gestures for you to sit.

“Master Pale. Everyone,” King Albrecht begins, “...Miss Martense.”

Eleanora bares her teeth in a half-hearted attempt at a snarl. Despite her attempts at bravado, you can see fear in the way her eyes dance back and forth across the room.

“I had a suspicion that my father may have tried asking the Martense for access to any Lessons they may have held. My suspicion was incorrect, however we found something far worse at the Iron Keep,” you begin, “It started when we met their servant, Munroe...”

-

You talk for a long time, losing track of time as recount your time spent in the Iron Keep. King Albrecht listens without interruption, occasionally glancing aside to Eleanora as if reassuring himself that it's not all a wild fantasy. By the time you're finished, the room is thick with Moreau's cigarette smoke and your throat is raw. Albrecht is silent at first as he considers your words, letting his oracle get in the first words.

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Master Pale,” she says in her dry, hushed voice, “Your Majesty, I would recommend that the whole mountain be quarantined. Seal it off to all outsider, and allow my people to conduct a thorough investigation. I fear that there may be a deeper corruption at work, something that may not be fully wiped clean.”

“Unacceptable,” King Albrecht counters, “The Martense lands provide us with a critical supply of coal and iron ore, among other things. Sealing the mountains off could prove disastrous to our industry.”

“And allowing uneducated fools to wander across them at will could prove far worse,” Moreau insists, “Master Pale, I'm sure that, as a direct witness, you understand my logic.”

With a grimace, King Albrecht turns to you. With a faint reluctance, he nods for you to speak freely.

>The threat is over, Choirmaster. With a few precautions, normal business can resume
>There may yet be a threat. Miss Moreau is correct, the whole mountain should be sealed off
>This decision is far above my head. I can offer no opinion
>Other
>>
>>6088686
Portsmaw - a place we will forget
The Iron Keep - a place we wish we could forget
I know which one I prefer
>>
>>6088735
>The threat is over, Choirmaster. With a few precautions, normal business can resume.
We were fine and we did kill a lot of ghouls. Just send in a few experts to oversee.
>>
>>6088735
>The threat is over, Choirmaster. With a few precautions, normal business can resume
>>
“The threat is over, Choirmaster,” you answer, giving Moreau a cold, calm look, “We made sure of that, I can assure you. With just a few precautions, normal business can resume.”

Moreau is good, but not perfect. While her expression barely changes, you can see her jaw tighten with displeasure. If you had to guess, you'd say that she's not used to people disagreeing with her. With her bilious green eyes fixed on you, she takes a silver cigarette case out from her pocket and opens it with a flick of her wrist.

“Precautions,” King Albrecht repeats, gesturing across to one of his secretaries to start taking notes.

“I would recommend keeping some soldiers stationed at the Iron Keep, if you plan to keep using it,” you begin, “And perhaps some of your “experts”, Miss Moreau, if it would make you feel more comfortable.”

Moreau's eyes narrow as if trying to decide if you're mocking her or not. Just as she's bringing a lit match up to her new cigarette, Elle lets out a rasping cough and the Choirmaster hesitates. Taking the cigarette from her dry lips, she slips it back into the silver case instead. “You are, of course, the only direct witnesses to these events,” she says at last, “I will defer to your wise judgement.”

Now you're the one trying to figure out of you're being mocked. Probably, but you let it slide.

“By all rights, ownership of the Iron Keep and all associated responsibilities would pass to your family, Master Martense,” King Albrecht says slowly, “But I understand that your parents have not been involved with the mining business. Is that correct?”

“Yes sir,” Jan murmurs, his head low, “My parents are tailors, sir.”

“Mm. I'll have some of my own agents take over the administration of the mines on a temporary basis, while I reach out to them. Should your parents wish to take over the mines, I will ensure that they are suitably trained and prepared for all that it entails,” the King decides, “I have no desire to steal the family mines out from under you, Master Martense, but I have even less desire to see them fail. As I have said, they are a vital resource for the Kingdom.”

“Yes yes, of course. Do as you see fit. I just...” Jan hesitates, “Eleanora, I mean Miss Martense...”

King Albrecht holds up a hand to silence the young man. “I understand your concern,” he says carefully, “However, I have a responsibility to root out corruption wherever it can be found. Often, this can be a burden – a most unwelcome one at that. Miss Martense will be taken into my care, and I will pass the appropriate judgement upon her.”

“She will hang,” Moreau adds, relishing her words to an unseemly degree. You glance aside to Eleanora to judge her reaction, but she doesn't even seem to hear the words. Her eyes are closed, her lips drawn tight in a rictus smile of silent defiance.

[1]
>>
>>6088771

Compared with the thick smog of cigarette smoke, the fresh air outside the palace tastes as sweet as honey. Savouring it like a fine wine, you let the clean air purge the last remnants of filth from your body. With Eleanora left in King Albrecht's capable care, you feel as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders – as if you can finally start putting this all behind you.

“Right,” you announce, clapping your hands together, “Back to the estate, I suppose. I'm sure there's a horrendous pile of letters and problems waiting for me there, but that can't be helped. Does anyone know when the next train leaves?”

An awkward silence greets this question. “Actually...” Daniel begins, “I thought I should stay here with Jan for a bit. You know, I'm sure there's going to be a lot going on for him and-”

“No, of course,” you interrupt, “I've already taken up too much of your time as it is. I'm sure we'll have a chance to meet up again before too long.”

“I... need to stay in the capital for a little longer too,” Elle says awkwardly, nervously tugging at her long sleeves, “I think I've been... distracted lately, so much so that I can't concentrate on my job properly. I'm going to have to swallow my pride and turn to some of my old teachers for guidance. Hopefully, they can help me.”

You're surprised at how much this announcement stings. You're silent for a moment, uncommonly lost for words.

“I don't know how long it'll take,” Elle continues, her words coming faster and faster, “It may only be a few days, but it might be... more than that. Not too long, I hope! But if it is, um, I can always wire you a quick note just to explain what's going on. I'll stay in contact, I promise! I just-”

“Elle,” you interrupt, “Slow down. Remember to breathe.”

Elle's lips flap silently for a moment, then she swallows heavily. “I just don't know exactly how long I might be gone,” she says at last, carefully forming each word, “I know that King Albrecht wanted you to have an oracle, but I'm of no use to you like this.”

>I understand. Stay in touch, and we'll meet up when you're ready
>No, you need to stay. I still need you here with me
>I... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6088788
>I suppose I can actually visit Juno. Whether or not I avail of her services as an oracle, the Calamity of the Martense might be a suitable piece of information to trade for something.
>For all the effort they put into bothering the Teilhards, they didn't lift a finger for the very definitely stagnant house.

We could also review the whole poison business as well, if the list bard's father was looking for matches what kalthos was peddling.
>>
>>6088788
>I understand. Stay in touch, and we'll meet up when you're ready

>>6088805
Dang bro no need to say all that out loud
>>
>>6088813
fair enough, lol
>>
>>6088788
>I understand. Stay in touch, and we'll meet up when you're ready
>I hope I can count on you three too look after each other while in capitol

>>6088805
You stabbed Elle twisted it and then spat in her face LOL
>Oh you feel inadequate? Let me see that other hoe with similar skill set you are definitely won't be jealous over.
>>
Elle is right about one thing, you are supposed to have an oracle accompanying you. However, while Elle was King Albrecht's selection for the job, there are other options available. While you're certain that Juno Tomoe would try to extract some kind of painful price for offering her assistance, you may be able to meet it. You're sure that they would be very interested to know about the Calamity seeping into the roots of House Martense...

“I understand. If you think this is important, I'll trust your judgement,” you tell Elle, setting your scheming aside for a moment, “Stay in touch, and we'll meet up when you're ready.”

A relieved smile breaks out on Elle's face. “Thank you for being so understanding, Isambard. I was so worried that... well, you know what I mean,” she says quickly, bowing her head, “I'll send word as soon as I'm finished, and I'll come straight to the estate. If... if anything happens, and you need to reach me in an emergency, just send a note to the palace. They'll be able to pass the word along.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” you assure her, looking aside to Ariel, “Is this the part where you abandon me too?”

“Me? No way,” she remarks with a snort of laughter, “Unlike these well-adjusted individuals, I really don't have anywhere better to be. Besides, you'll get up to all sorts of trouble if you're left on your own.”

“Exactly,” Daniel agrees with a laugh of his own, “You'll need a woman's touch in that estate of yours, Bard.”

“Um...” Ariel hesitates, “Do you have to make it sound so-”

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding!” he insists, slapping her on the shoulder. Ariel glares at him, although you can see hints of a smile fighting to show themselves at the side of her lips.

-

The train feels very empty without your companions alongside you. You've gotten used to having Daniel and Jan around, and now it feels as if you've left them behind. Which, you suppose, isn't wrong. They have their own lives, just as you have yours. Frankly, you've already been working together than far longer than you ever suspected.

“So,” Ariel says as the train rattles west towards Castaigne and the Pale lands, “Do we have a plan?”

“Not really,” you admit, shrugging slightly, “I'm sure Alex is back by now. He might have some more information, and a story to tell... though, I can't imagine that it'll be an especially cheerful one. After everything that we've been through, I'm not sure if I can stomach it right now.”

“Nonsense. A strong, brave gentleman like yourself isn't going to shy away from a few hard truths, is he?” Ariel remarks with a crooked smile, “Though, I certainly wouldn't mind a nice relaxing holiday instead.”

“You could've had a nice relaxing holiday,” you point out, “But you're here with me instead.”

[1]
>>
>>6088828

This time, Ariel is the one who shrugs. “Okay, good point,” she concedes, “But that's enough about me and my frankly dismal social life. How about you answer me something. Are we really going ahead without an oracle? Only, when Elle told you about her plans, I'm sure I saw you scheming...”

“You're changing the subject.”

“And you're dodging the question,” Ariel shoots back, giving you a mischievous smile, “But that's fine. That's all the answer I needed.”

You scowl at Ariel, but she isn't deterred. With a sigh, you slump back in your seat as if admitting defeat. “If a situation should arise where an oracle is required, and Elle isn't able to return sufficiently quickly, then yes. I would consider approaching Juno Tomoe,” you tell her quietly, “Although I know full well that she may be spiteful enough to refuse any request on general principle.”

You could go on, but you suddenly realise how defensive you must sound. Ariel just shakes her head softly, waving away your excuses before turning to look out the train window. She's silent for a long while, the impish amusement slipping from her face to be replaced by a more wistful smile. “I wish I could be an oracle,” she says softly after a long silence, “It doesn't look very fun, but at least I'd be able to make myself useful.”

These words hang in the air, unanswered, for a long while.

-

“Master Pale, Miss Teilhard, welcome back! It's been some time!” Alex announces as he greets you in the entrance hall, “Just the two of you?”

“The others were detained elsewhere. Urgent business,” you explain vaguely, “But I'm sure it won't be for too long. Really though, Alex, you've got a lot of explaining to do – every time we came back here, you were away on some sort of business. It must've been something particularly important to keep you away for so long.”

Alex's smile falters slightly. “By my reckoning, you were gone for far longer than I was,” he points out, “But, yes, I was visiting an old friend of your father. Trying to visit him, rather. I had no end of obstacles and frustrations thrown in my path, and eventually I had to admit defeat.”

“I don't quite understand.”

“This friend, Master Teufel, is in the care of House Silvera,” Alex pauses, “A hospital of theirs. They have quite strict limits on who can see their... guests. Evidently, I didn't meet their standards. Well, that's a subject for another time – I'll just get irritated all over again if I start talking about it now.”

>If you have time, I'd like to talk about my father instead
>No, I'm curious now. What happened with this Master Teufel?
>We'll leave that for another time. Any other business I should attend to?
>Let's talk... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6088835
>We'll leave that for another time. Any other business I should attend to?
We need a bit of a break before dealing with our next House of Horrors
>>
“We'll leave that for another time, then,” you decide, with no small amount of relief. Anything that involves a friend of your father AND a hospital is likely to be a particularly grim piece of work. After everything you've been through, you'd prefer to leave that for another day. “Any other business I should attend to?” you ask as an afterthought, “I expected to have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Not as much as you might think,” Alex answers, gesturing for you to follow him inside, “There were a few messages sent to the estate. I'll just get them for you. Take a seat, make yourself at home.”

At Alex's urging, you settle into one of the many chairs around the long dining table and wait. It's hard to imagine an occasion where all the chairs would be required, a dinner party or such, but at least you've got your pick of the bunch. Alex returns a few moments later, dropping a pair of telegrams down before you. The first one is from Cato Silvera, a name that causes you to raise an eyebrow in surprise.

“I apologise for the unsolicited message,” Cato's note reads, “After our brief conversation in the cathedral, I thought to ask if you might consider meeting up again for a more informal discussion. I found you to be a most interesting person, and would enjoy an opportunity to talk some more. Should you wish to contact me, I can be reached at-”

“That guy,” Ariel mutters, reading over your shoulder, “Ugh, why does he have to sound so nice and polite?”

“Possibly because he's nice and polite?”

“Makes my skin crawl,” she complains, “What's this other one?”

“That one only arrived a few days ago,” Alex says, a hint of distaste in his voice, “I've not read it, of course, but I did see who sent it.”

“I couldn't help but notice that you've not yet accepted my kind invitation,” the second message reads, “Given that you've recently found yourself without an oracle, or you're about to find yourself without an oracle, you should stop playing so hard to get. Besides, my family would simply love to meet you.”

Juno Tomoe.

You fiddle with the telegram for a moment, folding the flimsy slip of paper in your hands. “Nothing else?” you ask, glancing up at Alex.

“A few routine matters, all perfectly mundane. Invoices for groceries and such. I've taken care of those,” the older man answers, “If I'm being honest, it feels just like when your father was here. He'd forget all about things like that, and I'd have to go cleaning up after him. I almost feel glad to be falling back into the same old routines.”

“I suppose it'll keep you busy,” you muse, looking back at the messages and wondering if you should follow up on either of them.

>You'll leave them for now. You don't need any more distractions
>Maybe it's time to accept Juno's invitation and pay her a visit
>Cato's message is a curious one. You'll see what he's got to discuss
>Other
>>
>>6088835
>No, I'm curious now. What happened with this Master Teufel?
>>
>>6088869
>Maybe it's time to accept Juno's invitation and pay her a visit
>>
>>6088869
>Maybe it's time to accept Juno's invitation and pay her a visit
>>
>>6088869
>Maybe it's time to accept Juno's invitation and pay her a visit
She did demonstrate her own oracle skills with that letter, impressive.

Also Cato Silvera is just House Silvera, we might as well have listened to Alex on Teufel for that one.
>>
>>6088705
>“They tried selling a train that didn't move at all, but nobody bought it,” you remark, “I can't imagine why.”
This might be one of Isambard's best jokes yet

>>6088771
>Just as she's bringing a lit match up to her new cigarette, Elle lets out a rasping cough and the Choirmaster hesitates. Taking the cigarette from her dry lips, she slips it back into the silver case instead.
I love this barest hint of care in this old bitch
>>
>>6088869
>Maybe it's time to accept Juno's invitation and pay her a visit
Does she know her grandfather is in the Demesne?
>>
Looking back down at Juno's message, you read it back and scowl. It's no great mystery as to how she knows about Elle's departure, but that doesn't make it any less intrusive. Not only that, but you can just imagine the mocking tone as if Juno was reading her words aloud. There's a part of you that wants to refuse her invitation again, just out of spite, and yet...

“I suppose we might as well see why she's so keen,” you sigh, holding up Juno's message, “I'll send her a message, see if that invitation is still open.”

Alex doesn't exactly approve of the decision, judging by the sour expression on his face, but you don't let that deter you. Moving through to the small office, you clumsily bash out a reply on the telegraphy station and fire it away. As you sit back to wait, Ariel slips into the seat opposite you with a wry smile on her face.

“I know, I know,” you mutter, “You don't need to say it.”

“Who, me?” she replies, raising an eyebrow, “I wasn't going to say anything. I certainly wasn't going to comment on how quickly you changed your tune.”

“It's a simple matter of politeness-” you begin, only to be interrupted by a chime as Juno's response arrives. Tearing the flimsy paper strip free, you read the short, short message. “Sending a carriage,” you read, “Don't go wandering off.”

“That was quick,” Ariel muses, looking over the brief message, “What, was she just sitting by the machine waiting for your reply?”

“I'm just that irresistible,” you remark, rising from your chair and moving back to the dining room. As you glance down at Cato's message a thought occurs to you. “Alex, doesn't this seem like a strange coincidence to you?” you ask, “You go asking House Silvera about this Teufel, and then a representative of House Silvera comes asking after me.”

Alex wanders through from the kitchen, a frown on his face. “It does seem a little odd, now that you mention it,” he admits, “But these things do happen. I'm not sure what connection this Master Cato might have with the hospital, besides the family link. House Silvera has a great many hospitals in their land, especially... specialist ones.”

Something about the way he says that strikes an ill note with you. “What... kind of hospital are we talking about?” you ask carefully.

“A very secure one,” Alex replies with equal caution, “One that cares for very specific nervous conditions.”

“Oh,” you pause, “An asylum.”

“Yes, Isambard. An asylum,” he says with a wince, “There aren't many places in Agoria with the means to care for men who are very sick in such a way, and I fear that Master Teufel is one of those men. What I don't know is how he came to be this way. That's what I had been hoping to find out. But as I said-”

“They wouldn't let you see him.”

“Exactly,” Alex sighs, “I tried everything that I could think of, but House Silvera regulations can be as unyielding as a fortress wall.”

[1]
>>
>>6088935

“There is one thing we might try, however,” Alex muses, “The Teufel family are sworn to House Pale. Master Teufel was one of your father's vassals, which means – technically speaking – he's one of YOUR vassals. The wardens could turn away an old friend, but they might not have so much luck with a noble master such as yourself.”

“Hm,” you murmur, considering the idea. It feels an awful lot like throwing your weight around. You're not opposed to the idea, but it's rather uncouth.

“Tell you what,” Alex continues, “I can get back in touch with the hospital and see if you'd have permission to visit in my stead. No sense in running off up north if they're just going to turn you away too, right?”

You nod slowly. “And this Master Teufel...” you wonder, “Is there any special reason why House Silvera might want to keep him hidden away?”

“If so, they weren't particularly keen to tell me,” the older man points out, “But, I wouldn't think so. Anders... Master Teufel was a fighter, a soldier. If you'll excuse me for being blunt, there was never anything particularly special about him. He had a good sword arm, but a lot of people can claim that. That's nothing remarkable in this day and age.”

Still. Another one of your father's old contacts – like Master Dunblane. It's a lead worth following up on when you've got the chance, provided you can get access to him.

“See what the hospital says,” you order, nodding back towards the telegraphy station, “And keep an eye out for a carriage arriving. I'm going to take a bath.”

“Good idea,” Alex says, his voice carefully neutral, “I think that's a very good idea.”

>I'm going to pause here for today. I'll be continuing tomorrow, starting at the same approximate time
>Thank you for following along today!
>>
>>6088945
Thank you for running, QM! Top tier quest, glad to see a Thread 2.
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>>6088945
Thanks for running!

Woah, Monday too.
>>
>>6088945
>“Good idea,” Alex says, his voice carefully neutral, “I think that's a very good idea.”
they smell like the grave, don't they?
>>
>>6089343
At least it added to their testimony to the King, right?
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>>6089343
Would you really want to strip off and lather up in the spooky mountain manor?
>>
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The Tomoe carriage is painted black, because of course it is. There's something eerie about seeing the empty black carriage gliding up towards the estate, the door swinging open as if beckoning you inside. Juno, you must assume, was terribly busy elsewhere – too busy to come and meet you in person. Ariel walks out with you, eyeing up the carriage as if it might turn around and attack you.

“You, uh, you want me to stay here?” she asks, making a tiny nervous adjustment to her cap.

“Do you WANT to stay here?”

Ariel gives the question serious consideration, then shakes her head. “You know how we tried not to leave Jan alone with Eleanora?” she remarks after a moment.

“Of course, but what's that got to do with-” you pause, giving the silver-haired girl a glare, “Oh very funny. Just get in the damn carriage if you're coming.”

-

The Tomoe lands aren't especially far from your own territory, as the crow flies, but your carriage has to take a long detour around what were formerly the Phalaris lands. Now a vast swamp stretching out across the land like an open wound, the Mire of Phalaris is almost impassible to all but the most determined traveller. The skies darken as you approach the Tomoe lands, heavy clouds lit by the occasional flash of lightning. It's said that a land grows to resembles its masters. Comparing the stormy skies above to the violent, tempestuous Tomoe, you can well believe that.

Finally you see Yomi, the ancient Tomoe city, approaching on the horizon. A crooked hive of black spires, it's a city that Eleanora Martense would approve of – a city with HISTORY. Razed and ruined countless times over its long and bloody history, Yomi has been built back up time and time again. You've heard horror stories about the city, layer upon layer of ancient streets hidden beneath the surface. That's another thing that Eleanora might like.

Hopefully you won't need to find out if there's any truth to the rumours.

-

The carriage skirts around Yomi proper, leading up to a bizarre manor on the outermost edge of the city – a manor built like some heathen pyramid, squat and flat at the bottom but narrowing to stab up towards the sky. Climbing out of the carriage and gazing up at the open door, you look around for any guards or... anyone at all. You hadn't been expecting a massive welcoming party, but you were expecting SOMETHING.

“Should we just... go in?” Ariel wonders, looking around in confusion, “I know we were invited and all, but I still feel like a trespasser.”

“Well, technically I'm the one who was invited. You're still trespassing,” you tease, “But don't worry, I'll vouch for you.”

“Oh great, that's really reassuring,” she mutters, “I'm sure the lynch mob will really stop and listen to you when they come for me.”

“We don't have lynch mobs here,” Juno calls out, emerging from atop the front steps, “We just shoot intruders, like normal civilised people.”

[1/2]
>>
>>6089492

“Welcome to Boleskine House, by the way,” Juno continues as she leads you inside, “And no, before you ask, I don't know what the name means either. It's old. Very old.”

“I'm sure,” you agree, looking around at the entrance hall. You hadn't really known what to expect, but the Tomoe manor is surprisingly luxurious – thick red carpets muffle the sound of your footsteps, while the ornate furnishings gleam with the oily black sheen of polished ebony. The front hall is quite the museum, although it takes you a moment to realise that the strange tools on display are obscure implements of torture.

“You'll forgive me for being suspicion, Miss Tomoe,” you continue, “But I have to ask your reasons for inviting me here. I'm sure this is more than just a social call.”

“Even if I said that you were wrong, and that I had no ulterior motive, you wouldn't believe me,” Juno counters, “So yes, I confess. Bring you here is key to everything, to the culmination of a grand prophecy generations in the making. It all begins now!”

With the words of her dire pronouncement echoing through the entrance hall, you give Juno a dubious look. “I don't actually believe that either,” you answer eventually, “So I have to assume that the answer is somewhere between the two.”

“I'd congratulate you on your perception, but I made that far too easy for you,” Juno remarks, “Hardly a challenge at all, in fact. I'd be more impressed if you somehow managed to reach the wrong conclusion.”

“You don't like to answer a straight question, do you?” Ariel snipes, scowling at Juno.

“Where would be the fun in that?” the redhead answers with a shrug, “But fine. I wanted to ask you about the Demesne. Simple enough for you?”

Ariel glances aside to you, an uneasy glint in her eyes. You don't reply immediately, waiting until Juno leads you into a smaller drawing room. “What do you want to know?” you ask as you sit on the plush couch, “I should warn you, I'm hardly the expert.”

“I just want to know what you've seen. What it's like inside,” Juno explains, hesitating for a moment before adding, “I'll see it myself one day, but I'd prefer not to go in blind.”

“What do you mean, you'll see it yourself?”

“The very first time I received guidance from the Emanations, they told me that I would see the Demesne with my own eyes. They didn't say why, or when, or anything else,” she recalls, “Honestly. People say that we Tomoe are fickle, but the Emanations are far worse.”

You smirk a little, wondering what Elle might say to that.

“Okay, I see how it is. Nothing comes for free,” Juno says when you don't immediately reply, “How about this? I'll answer one question for you. It can be anything, just don't make it something boring.”

>Ask about Kalthos, her mysterious ancestor
>Ask about her, the Triumph of the Tomoe
>Ask about yourself, what her real interest is
>Ask... (Write in)
>Other
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>>6089493
>Ask about Kalthos, her mysterious ancestor
Would Eleanora really like Yomi if it’s been razed and rebuilt countless times, or would she complain that nothing of the original city is even left? She’d definitely like the ancient streets though, since they’re old and underground.
>>
>>6089493
>Ask about your father, what was he searching for.
>>
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“You'll answer one question,” you says slowly, “Will you actually answer it honestly though?”

“I will,” Juno confirms, giving you a coy smile, “And, as a show of good faith, I won't even count that as your one question. Just be more careful with your words next time, will you?”

You'll admit, you walked straight into that one. “I'd like to ask you about my father,” you decide after a moment, “Do you know what he was searching for?”

“Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?” Juno raises an eyebrow, “Let me see... I believe he was trying to get to the bottom of the Demesne.”

“I know that already,” you point out, trying not to sigh, “What I want to know is why, what lies at the bottom of the Demesne?”

Juno spreads her hands wide in a helpless gesture. “How should I know?” she says with a laugh, “I was really hoping you'd be able to tell me that. I'll tell you what, though. You go ahead and march down to the bottom of the Demesne, then come back and tell me what you see. Deal?”

You just glare at Juno, holding your tongue until she relents with a sigh. “Okay, fine. Since I couldn't really answer that one, we'll strike it off as well,” she concedes, “It's only fair.”

“I didn't know you meant the meaning of the word,” Ariel mutters to herself.

“Well, maybe you'll be able to answer this one. It relates to the Demesne too, so I'm sure you'll find it interesting,” you begin, “I met an old man in the Demesne, a man who claimed to be a member of your family. He gave his name as Kalthos Tomoe, although that's not his real name. I was wondering if you might know anything about him.”

A curious light enters Juno's eyes. “I don't, but I think we might be able to find out. First of all, we need to get a name. A real name,” she explains, leaping to her feet, “Follow me.”

-

Through corridors that drip with dark luxury and nightmarish artwork, Juno leads you through to a large hallway lined with tall portraits. Haughty faces sneer down from countless oil paintings, their costumes growing more and more archaic as you pass backwards through the generations. There's a similar look about the men, with hawkish features and slick black hair, while the women all share an ethereal beauty. Then you spot a picture of a bearded sage, stopping dead in your tracks before it.

Though the Kalthos you know has degraded somewhat since this portrait was made, you recognise the evil glint in the eyes – a glint that the artist captured perfectly. “This is it,” you announce, “This is him.”

“Ymir Tomoe,” Juno reads, squinting at the brass plate screwed to the base of the portrait, “Wait. You said you met this man?”

“I said that, yes. I'm glad to see you were listening.”

“It can't be,” she murmurs, gesturing to the dates listed on the plate, “According to this, he'd be over one hundred and fifty years old.”

[1]
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>>6089511

You stoop down to look at the plate. It lists the name and a date of birth, but no date of death – and, true enough, the date of birth matches Juno's claim. “Well,” you say carefully, “He's looking good for his age. I wonder what his secret is.”

“Good diet and clean living, obviously,” Juno sneers, “Come on. Now that we know who we're looking for, we can check the archives for more information. Damn you Bard, you've actually got me curious now.”

“Don't-” you begin, but she's already hurrying away.

-

“Ymir Tomoe. Famous thinking and philosopher,” Juno reads, scowling down at the weighty tome opened before you, “He can't be that famous if I've never heard of him. It says here that he mostly wrote essays on the nature of Calamity. Ugh.”

“Ugh?” you repeat.

“Why do we allow ourselves to become stereotypes? If a Teilhard writes, they write about war. If a Silvera writes, they write about faith,” the red-haired girl complains, “When did we become so predictable?”

“Save the complaints for later, what else can you tell me about Kalthos... Ymir?” you press, leaning closer to read over Juno's shoulder, “How come he's in the Demesne?”

Pushing you away with an irritated gesture, Juno reads through the book for a moment more. “Right. We need another book,” she announces, looking up and pointing at Ariel, “You, Teilhard, go and fetch it for me. We're looking for Annals of Tomoe, Volume Five. It should be over by the north wall, up on one of the high shelves.”

“The... high shelves,” Ariel repeats, frowning at Juno.

“Oh, I'm sure there's a ladder around here somewhere,” Juno says vaguely, “Now go!”

With one last dark look, Ariel turns and storms off deeper into the archives. You watch her go, then sit next to Juno with a weary sigh. “You just sent her looking for a non-existent book,” you mutter, “Didn't you?”

“No, it's a real book,” Juno replies with a cool smile, “But there are only four volumes.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you're a horrible person?”

“Once or twice,” she shrugs, “But what else was I supposed to do? She was following you about like a puppy dog. Anyway, it says here that Ymir – Kalthos, whatever – was once a rising star, destined to be the new head of the family, before he went into some kind of self-imposed exile. It doesn't say why, but I can make a guess. My family, for the most part, hasn't been concerned with the Demesne. There's no point, it's like picking a fight with the ocean. We've always focussed our attention on mortal affairs – kings, governments, whatever.”

“But Kalthos, presumably, had other ideas,” you agree, “And he chose exile in the Demesne to pursue a different path.”

“I would assume so,” Juno says, leaning back in her chair to study the high ceiling in thought, “And now my path is leading me to the Demesne too, as is yours...”

[2/3]
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>>6089521

Juno seems on the verge of saying something else, but the stomping sound of muffled footsteps interrupts her. “Can't find your damn book,” Ariel announces, giving Juno a vile glare, “I hope it wasn't important.”

“We'll have to manage without it,” Juno replies, giving the pale girl a sweet smile, “Since you're on your feet, do you think you could go and check for another one? It's called “The Arrival of Calamity”. Little slim volume, it should be on the lower shelves this time.”

“I'm finally realise why you people get purged so often,” Ariel complains, turning and marching back into the archives.

“Don't worry, that's a real book this time,” Juno whispers to you, “It's one of the books that Ymir Tomoe wrote. His masterpiece, apparently, although I suspect that it's terribly tedious. I thought you might appreciate a loan of it. A little something to help you try and understand the old devil. It's just gathering dust around here anyway.”

After waiting a moment to check that she's being sincere, you give Juno a nod of thanks.

“Now,” she continues, giving you a teasing smile, “I believe we had a deal...”

“I know,” you reply, “I'm not going to go back on my word. I should warn you, though, I can only tell you so much. I've not seen much of the Demesne myself.”

Juno waves away your warnings with a dismissive gesture, sitting back and waiting.

>Give her the objective truth of what little you've seen
>Warn her about the dangers of the Demesne, based on what Cato has told yourselves
>Focus on the rumours about what may or may not lie at the bottom of the Demesne
>Other
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>>6089527
>Give her the objective truth of what little you've seen
But bring up Cato's info too. If those "puppets" are commonplace in there, then such beasts as Cato alluded to must also exist. The tenet to enter without arms is either foolhardy or has merit, if being unarmed alters how the Demesne reacts to people inside it
>>
>>6089527
>Warn her about the dangers of the Demesne, based on what Cato has told yourselves
It's one spooky place
>>
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“It's a very strange place,” you begin, trying to think objectively about everything you've seen so far, “When you first enter, you don't immediately notice that anything has changed. It looks no different to the rest of the old palace. But that impression doesn't last. The longer you stay in the Demesne, the more you notice how strange it truly is. The corridors stretch on for what seems like an eternity, turning back on themselves in impossible ways. All the while, you're descending.”

“If the first layer of the Demesne is almost normal, the second layer is where I really felt as if I was... somewhere else,” you continue, “There are things living in the Demesne, if “living” is really a suitable term for it. Kalthos called them “Denizens” - inhuman puppets, mindless things imitating human behaviour. They didn't seem to notice me, but I never felt especially safe around them either.”

“Scared of a few little puppets?” Juno asks, her lips twisting in a mocking smirk.

“I'm more scared of what else might be there. I've spoken with another man, a man who has explored far more than I have. He spoke of a monster deep within the Demesne, a beast that blocked his passage,” you warn, “When I visited, they asked that I go unarmed. There's a taboo about spilling blood in there. I still don't know if I was wise or not to obey their ask. Perhaps the Denizens ignored me because I went unarmed, or perhaps not.”

As your voice fades out, Juno closes her eyes to savour to image forming in her mind. Her smile changes, softens, and seems to spread through her whole face. Finally, she opens her eyes. “Thank you, Isambard,” she murmurs, “When the day comes that I get to see the Demesne, I wonder if you'll be there to see it with me?”

“You're the oracle here, Miss Tomoe,” you counter, “You tell me.”

-

“Hey!” a shrill voice calls out from the entrance to the archives. A short moment later, Ariel appears with a strange looking girl with dark hair beside her. “I found this one sneaking about stealing books,” the dark haired girl remarks, “What do we do with her?”

“Leave her be, Jac. Actually, leave us all be,” Juno sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I thought I told you that I didn't want to be disturbed today.”

“Yeah, but it's getting late. Father says that dinner is almost ready,” the girl explains, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, “He says that your “guest” is welcome too.”

Juno grimaces, waving away the girl with a curt gesture. She leaves, giggling softly to herself, and you turn to Juno with a questioning look. “Don't ask,” she mutters, “Just a cousin. A very irritating cousin who doesn't know how to mind her own business. Though, I'll admit, I hadn't realised how late it was getting. Are you hungry? I hate to subject you to a dinner with my awful family, but I'll never hear the end of it if you don't attend.”

“I suppose I'll have to endure it, then.”

[1]
>>
>>6089527
>>Give her the objective truth of what little you've seen
>>
>>6089546

You'll admit to feeling vaguely uneasy about the prospect of dinner, after your grim experiences at the Iron Keep, but the early signs are promising. Sitting in a random seat at the long, beautifully decorated dining table, you're soon confronted with a dish of delicate soup and a platter of thinly sliced fish. No sooner have you finished the starter then your plate is whisked away, and the main dish is brought out – a great hunk of roasted boar, glistening with sauce and laid out on a slab of silver.

“I hope you like boar,” Juno mutters to you, eyeing the meat with disdain, “We eat far too much of it.”

“Master Pale, Miss Teilhard!” a jovial voice cries out, “Welcome to Boleskine House, I hope that Juno has made you feel welcome. Ah, the meat looks delightful – I hunted it myself just this morning!”

“Master Janus Tomoe,” a servant calls, somewhat belatedly. The head of the Tomoe family isn't quite what you had been expecting. A slim, tall man with dark hair and a pointed beard, he looks like a modern gentleman – a little flamboyant, a little urbane. You had been expecting someone a little more... intense.

With a gesture from Master Tomoe, you take a slice of the roast boar and start eating. It's delicious, of course, and perfectly matched with a deep red wine. “I adore hunting boar,” Master Tomoe muses, “The thrill of it. Life or death. I use a spear, as our ancestors once did, and there's really nothing like it. Have you ever hunted boar, Master Pale?”

“I rarely find the time for hunting these days,” you reply with a grim smile. Beside you, Juno glares at her untouched meal. Is she... embarrassed?

“We really must make time for a hunt together,” the older man decides, “That's the best way to get the measure of a man. You know, I met your father that way.”

You look up from your plate, suddenly unsure if Master Tomoe is being sincere.

“Yes, it was... perhaps a few years after you must've been born. Roughly, of course, roughly. He was good. Fearless, but rather crude in his methods. I still remember it – he caught a boar with his spear and drove it to the ground, but it was just a glancing blow. Before the beast could rise, he set upon it with his sword and hacked the thing to pieces,” Master Tomoe pauses to take a sip of wine, “Glorious. Magnificent, really.”

“That does... sound like something he'd do,” you sigh, pushing the meat on your plate about with your fork. Suddenly, you've lost your appetite.

“Father,” Juno says sternly, a tone of warning in her voice.

“Oh hush!” Master Tomoe laughs, “I'm sure that our guest doesn't mind a little rough talk at dinner. I'm sure he has his own share of tales to tell.”

>Give him a boast of your own. He hunts boar, but you've hunted monsters
>Change the subject. It's not proper to talk of such things over dinner
>Press for more answers. Did he really know your father?
>Other
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>>6089573
>Press for more answers. Did he really know your father?
We gotta save our monster hunting stories to exchange for Juno's oracle work, we can't give them away for free here.
>>
>>6089583
+1. But also...

>>6089573
>I've hunted worse than boars... At the Iron Keep. And this is hardly the roughest dinner I've eatebm If you want to know more than that, though, I'd like to know everything you know about my late father.
This could work, too
>>
>>6089583
>>6089588
+1 both
>>
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“I may have a few stories to tell,” you say carefully, giving Master Tomoe a faint hint of a smile, “I've hunted things worse than any boar, and this talk won't turn my stomach. This is far from the roughest meal I've ever had. I could tell you, but... Well, Juno and I played a little game earlier today. She told me what I wanted to know, and I told her what she wanted to know.”

“An even trade,” Master Tomoe agrees, his eyes glinting with amusement, “I'll admit, Master Pale, that you've got my attention. Do go on.”

“Don't play his games,” Juno whispers angrily to you, kicking you lightly under the table.

“I'd like to know everything you know about my late father,” you press, ignoring Juno's warnings, “And in return, I'll share a tale of my own.”

Master Tomoe leans back in his chair and lights a long cigarette. “Your father... Your father was a man who stood at the edge of greatness, but couldn't commit. That was the impression I always got from him. He had seen things, done things, that no other man had. But he shied away from them, and that – I suspect – is what destroyed him,” he recalls, “Really, he should have been a Tomoe.”

“That's all very vague,” you point out, “You could be talking about anyone.”

“No. I could only be talking about one man,” Master Tomoe shakes his head, “Ultimately, your father was still a man who lived by society's rules and morals. He flirted with Calamity, but in the end he was afraid to fully embrace it. A shame, really. But I can see that you've started on the same path that he has. I wonder if you'll be bolder than he was.”

Slowly, you take a sip of wine. Master Tomoe's voice has grown louder, more exuberant with each word he speaks, until his face positively glows.

“Well, I'll consider you a work in progress for now,” Master Tomoe concludes, snuffing out his cigarette with a quick flick of his wrist, “Now, about your tale...”

Pushing your disquiet aside, you adopt a suitable ghoulish expression and begin your tale. “This story is about a certain remote manor in the mountains. In the spirit of gentlemanly behaviour, I shall leave it unnamed,” you start, “This manor belonged to a certain family...”

-

Master Tomoe listens to your story with a fascinated expression, one corner of his mouth curled up into a loveless smile. Juno feigns boredom, toying with her silver cutlery, but you can tell that she's listening intently. When you describe the battle beneath the Iron Keep, her hands clench white knuckle tight. By the time you're finished, her shoulders are tense.

“A most impressive tale,” Master Tomoe breathes, “Tell me one thing, Master Pale. These creatures that you hunted... does it bother you, to think that they were once men?”

“I didn't see them as men,” you answer, shaking your head, “I just saw them as beasts.”

Master Tomoe's smile deepens.

[1]
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>>6089603
Oh no he's hot
>>
>>6089603
You thought this was the Juno route, this is actually the Janus route!
>>
>>6089603

“Come with me,” Master Tomoe announces, rising to his feet, “Excuse us, Miss Teilhard. There's something I'd like to discuss with Master Pale in private. Juno, could you keep our guest amused for a moment?”

Juno rolls her eyes, while Ariel tries her best to smile. It's strange, seeing her so silent, but you can well understand. Given her history with the Tomoe, Ariel might not have much to say that's suitable for polite company. “Go ahead,” she says to you eventually, “I'll be right here.”

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Master Tomoe leads you from the dining room and down a narrow corridor. A silence descends over the older man as he leads you up a spiral staircase, pausing at a sealed door. “This is a very special place for our family, a very secret place,” he warns, “Very few people outside the family get to see inside.”

“I'll be discrete,” you promise, wondering just where he's going with this. Nowhere too strange, you hope.

Throwing open the door, Master Tomoe gestures towards an ornate shrine – a tarnished skull sitting upon a black velvet pillow at its centre. With an odd feeling of reverence, you approach and kneel down before the skull. It's old, so terribly old, and has an air of tragedy surrounding it. Idly, you wonder what an oracle might feel from being in this secret place.

“This is the skull of Lucianus of Silvera, the Summer King,” Master Tomoe murmurs, “The man who would lead Agoria into a thousand year golden age, until our blades cut him down. The greatest crime in the history of our great Kingdom, isn't that what they call it?”

“A golden age...” he continues, “I wonder. Would there be a place for men like us in such a thing?”

“We'll never know now, will we?” you remark, a hard edge in your hushed voice.

Master Tomoe smirks to himself, but says nothing for a moment. Reaching out, he gently strokes the skull. “If you truly intend to follow in your father's footsteps, then we may be able to help each other. You're looking for certain... items, yes?” he says quietly, “I have a certain piece in my collection, if you're willing to make a fair trade.”

An errand for a Tomoe – hardly the most appealing prospect.

“A certain agent of ours has gone missing. He was doing certain work – which, in the spirit of gentlemanly behaviour, I shall leave unnamed – in Teilhard territory,” Master Tomoe explains, “I would dearly like to find out what happened to him.”

“If the Teilhard family have got him, I doubt I'd be able to pull off a rescue,” you point out.

“I'm not asking you to,” the older man purrs, “If he's gotten himself caught, or killed, so be it. An issue of proficiency on his behalf. But I'd like to know for sure. Would you be willing to... investigate?”

>Yes, I think that could be arranged
>Unfortunately, I'm not currently looking for new errands
>Other
>>
>>6089603
>“I didn't see them as men,” you answer, shaking your head, “I just saw them as beasts.”
They looked like monsters to you?
Are we in Silent Hill or Bloodborne? Make up your mind QM!
>>
>>6089623
How hilariously can we play this up? Finally the one thing we know that the Tomoe do not. If we troll the patriarch with Hauberk's death, he could get even later on. But wouldn't it be worth it to see the look on his face? How's that for Calamity?
>>
>>6089623
>Yes, I think that could be arranged

>>6089631
I don't think it's Hauberk, we already told Juno about him and she would have passed it on.
>>
>>6089623
>Oh, Hauberk? I captured him and he bashed his own skull in to avoid questioning. Doubt it will make as good a trophy as Lucianus here.
>Now, about that trade...

Throw the man off with a blunt, direct answer. Caalamity Clan doesn't seem to be used to that, and Jun-Jun told us not to faff about playing games.
>>
You hold your tongue for a long moment, wondering if Master Tomoe is trying to talk you into some kind of trap. You have to assume that he's talking about Hauberk, either that or he's shockingly poor at keeping track of his agents. Whether it's a trap or some kind of game, you're not just going to play along nicely. “It's not Hauberk, is it?” you ask boldly, “Because he's definitely not going to be coming back. As I recall, he bashed his own brains out against the wall of a Teilhard dungeon. I assume he didn't want them to get a nice little trophy like Lucianus here.”

Throwing his head back, Master Tomoe lets out a deep laugh. It feels utterly wrong to laugh so hard in a sacred place like this, but you suppose that's the point.

“No no, I'm aware of what happened to Hauberk – although I didn't know the exact details. Fascinating!” Master Tomoe says with real enthusiasm, real vigour, “You see, Master Pale, since you're already so familiar with our operations in the Teilhard lands, I thought that you'd be the best person for the job.”

That may be the strangest compliment you've ever received. “Very well then. This OTHER agent of yours,” you say carefully, “Does he have a name?”

“Armin Leigh,” Master Tomoe answers, “Another one of your victims, by chance?”

“I've not had the pleasure,” you reply, “Just to be absolutely clear, you're not asking me to free him, help him complete his mission, or do anything like that. Correct?”

“Correct. Absolutely correct,” the older man confirms, “I just want to know what happened to him.”

With a final thought, you shrug. “I can ask some questions, see if anything comes up,” you decide, “But I can't promise anything. You know how it is.”

“Of course, of course,” Master Tomoe gives you a grin, “I must say, you're a very reasonable young man. When I heard that my Juno was taken with you, I quite assumed the worst. But this meeting has been a most pleasant surprise.”

It's certainly not been the worst manor you've visited lately, but that's a very low bar to clear.

>I'm going to take a pause here for today. Current plan will be to resume on Saturday
>Thanks for playing today!
>>
>>6089646
Thanks for running!

>When I heard that my Juno was taken with you
JUNO ROUTE CONFIRMED
Evil woman connoisseurs, our time has come.
>>
>>6089648
Just because a woman wants you, doesn't mean you need to take her up on it. She's still third on my list, after Elle and (if I can ever figure out her age) Ariel.

>>6089646
Thanks for running!
>>
>>6089751
>(if I can ever figure out her age)

I tend to leaves ages fairly vague, but I've imagined most fo the characters to be youngish - usually around early to mid twenties. I feel like Ariel might be on the younger side of that, maybe nineteen or twenty
>>
>>6089974
Acceptable age to enter the competition for Prime Waifu.
>>
>>6089977
The waifu wars are going to be such a mess. There's too many to choose.
>>
explain the concept of cataclysm, what does it mean when people say it.
>>
>>6090130
If you mean Calamity, it's a force/power that opposes the natural order - kind of a harmonious ideal of how to live. Depending on who you believe, Calamity is either an evil, corrupting force or a manifestation of freedom and human will.

If you meant something completely different, then I'm a fool and you might need to clarify.
>>
>>6089648
>JUNO ROUTE CONFIRMED
Best route confirmed…?
>>
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>>6090116
>>6091726
For your convenience, I have prepared a helpful infographic.
This may be the most cursed thing I have ever created.
>>
>>6092504
Kek, based.
>>
>>6092504
BAHAHAHA where's Eleanora route
>>
>>6092504
Thank you, this is extremely helpful and will inform all my decisions going forward
>The disclaimer
Now you're just being redundant
>>
>>6092504
kek
Ariel is best girl (possibly male)
>>
>>6092504
>no harem path

Absolute filth
>>
>>6092504
>no harem path
Absolutely based
>no Gratia on the waifu chart
You fucking nigger
>>
>>6092504
I'm awaiting milf option.
>>
>>6092541
Locked bc we're not cousins w/ her
>>6092504
This is based keep cooking
>>
>>6092504
where twincest route
>>
>>6092773
>>6092776
>>6092926

For reasons of sanity, I decided to only include major characters that we've met in-story. There's always room for a version 2.0 further down the line, of course
>>
>>6093305
You WILL include Gratia after we finally meet her on-screen. The Pale family DEMANDS it
>>
>>6093311
Yeah, but down that road leads cannibalistic molemen.
>>
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Feeling slightly dazed from your discussion with Master Tomoe, you return to the dining room and slump down into one of the empty seats. Snatching up your unfinished wine, you empty the glass in a few gulps.

“I know that look. He showed you the skull, didn't he?” Juno groans, “He's so full of shit... you know, it's probably not even real.”

“I don't know,” you argue, “It looked pretty real to me.”

“Well, yes, it's a real skull,” she admits with an irritated scowl, “But I highly doubt that it belongs to the Summer King of whoever he's claiming now. It's probably just some pig farmer from a particularly grim hamlet somewhere.”

“You don't know whose skull it is,” you point out, grinning slightly to yourself, “So it could, potentially, be the Summer King's skull.”

“I can't believe you're taking HIS side,” Juno complains, looking across the table to Ariel, “Can YOU believe this?”

“Sorry, I'm obviously still playing catch up here,” Ariel says, looking between you and Juno, “Did you just say that he's got the Summer King's skull upstairs?”

“It's not-” Juno snarls, her hands clenched into fists, but your laugh downs out anything else she has to say.

-

With dinner over and done with, you withdraw back to the archives – to discuss Master Tomoe's proposal. You leave a few things out, mostly his last few words about Juno, but you cover all the important points. You know fully well that Ariel won't like it and she doesn't disappoint you.

“So let me get this straight,” Ariel says, grimacing softly to herself, “You're working for the Tomoe now?”

“I'm not working for him,” you explain, “I'm just carrying out a little bit of an investigation. In all likelihood, I'll just be bringing him some bad news. Not much work, but the reward could be well worth it. You know how important this is to me.”

“I know, I know,” the pale girl concedes, throwing her hands up in the air, “But sometimes, I look at myself and wonder what I'm doing with my life.”

“You know, Miss Teilhard” Juno purrs, “I sometimes get the feeling that you don't like my family very much.”

“That's funny,” Ariel counters, “Because I sometimes get the feeling that you don't like your family very much either.”

A sudden tension stiffens the air, silence descending as you wait for Juno's retort – either an outburst of laughter, you're guessing, or a frightful display of violence. But in the end, it's neither. Juno simply glances away and studies the rows of books with a cold aloofness. “This man that we're looking for,” she says, her voice hard, “What was his name again?”

“Armin Leigh,” you remind her. She knows his name perfectly well, of course, but the question gives her a nice neat way of bringing the conversation back towards matters of business.

[1/2]
>>
>>6093498

With a nod, Juno takes a book down from the shelf and opens it to reveal a map of Agoria. “Armin Leigh,” she repeats, pointing to the map, “Assigned here, Albershot Lodge. If we're looking for him, I'd suggest starting there.”

“Do you know what sort of mischief he was supposed to be getting up to?” you ask, “Nothing too nefarious, I hope.”

“Infiltration. His job was to meet up with the locals and ingratiate himself. A fairly standard mission, which is another way of saying frightfully boring,” Juno waves the subject away with a callous gesture, “Even if we don't anything special planned, it's always useful to have a few embedded assets. Call it an investment.”

“This is all very interesting,” Ariel muses, “I'm sure King Albrecht would love to know about this.”

“By all means, tell him, although I'd be very surprised if he doesn't already know,” the red-haired girl replies, not rising to the bait, “Does it bother you, knowing how far our reach extends? Knowing that anyone you talk with, anyone you confide in, might be one of our people?”

Ariel's face doesn't waver, her mouth set in a tiny smile. Beneath the table, however, you can see her fists clenched so tight that her hands tremble. “I think you're bluffing,” she says eventually, “You'd love nothing more than to see us fall into paranoia and suspicion.”

“Also true,” Juno agrees, shrugging slightly, “Maybe I really was bluffing. Who knows? Who cares? It's all rather tiresome, if I'm honest. Perhaps we should stick to our mission?”

An awkward silence descends, broken only when you clear your throat. “Quite so,” you say, “Ariel. Do you think Siegfried House might know about our missing friend?”

“I don't know. Maybe,” Ariel tilts her head to the side as she thinks, “But I'm not really keen to go asking questions. They might ask why we're asking, or how we know about him, and then things just get messy. I'd prefer to tell as few lies as possible, especially to my own damn family.”

“I see your point,” you reply, “So you'd just go straight to Aldershot Lodge?”

“Sure, I guess,” she answers with a shrug, “Or just go away for a few days, then tell Master Tomoe we found his boy dead in a ditch somewhere. What's he going to do, go our and check for himself?”

You glance aside to Juno, who has a secretive little smile on her face. “While that does sound amusing, maybe you shouldn't say that right in front of Master Tomoe's daughter,” you point out, “Just a suggestion.”

“Oh don't worry, I'd back you up,” Juno remarks with a smirk, “As you say, it sounds rather funny. I wonder, though. Are you really that dishonest?”

Maybe, but you'd like to think that you have higher standards of behaviour than a Tomoe.

>We'll go straight to Aldershot Lodge, ask around there
>Let's go to Siegfried House first, check with the Teilhard family
>I like this “dead in a ditch” plan, actually
>Other
>>
>>6093500
>Let's go to Siegfried House first, check with the Teilhard family
No need for lies... Well, not excatly. Tell them we're on a mission to find a Tomoe spy. If they ask, yes, we visted the Tomoe first, as part of a mission for the King. It is, most emphatically, not a mission in support of the Tomoe. However, just as that accursed house is allowed to exist, sometimes unfortunate circumstances require our working with them.
>>
>>6093503
+1
It should be expected by now that Isambard Pale has a floating "WILL WORK FOR LESSONS" hanging over his head
>>
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“I think we should go to Siegfried House first,” you decide, “Right now, we don't know much about this Albershot Lodge. I'd prefer to know what kind of place we're walking into at the very least.”

“I guess,” Ariel concedes, “I'll be honest, I've never even heard of it.”

“That's because it's where they carry out all their secret tortures and executions,” Juno replies, letting out a curt laugh, “I'm kidding. I don't actually know what it's like either, so I suppose it'll be a nice surprise.”

“I don't like surprises, nice or not,” you insist firmly, “And that's why we're going to do our research first.”

This isn't a debate.

-

A tense mood hangs over the carriage as it rattles towards your destination. Despite her laudable attempts to hide it, you can tell that Ariel is nervous. While that's understandable enough, you can sense a faint unease coming from Juno as well. Maybe it's just the awkward silence that's getting to her – it's certainly starting to grate on your nerves. In search of a way to pass the time, you take out the book Juno gave you and start to read.

You open the book carefully, holding it with all the caution of a man clutching a poisonous snake. As for the text itself, the writing is dense and difficult to read, often wandering from one subject to another or spinning off on strange diversions. A discourse on the nature of Calamity, Kalthos has collated a number of myths, legends and theories, grouping them into three general categories – the idea that Calamity originated from the Godhead itself, that Calamity originated within mankind before passing to the Godhead, and the suggesting that Calamity originated from outside somehow.

To this last point, he cites an old folk tail about a great white serpent god – the serpent came into the world and taught men how to do evil, and so Calamity was born. Kalthos is vague as to what the serpent might have been, his explanation wavering between an allegory for human will to the manifestation of some divine will.

“If the Godhead is capable of sending an avatar into our world,” Kalthos writes, citing the Nicean Prophecies, “Could the same not be true for other gods, gods that may be sympathetic to mankind?”

You go back to that passage time and time again, reading those terribly suggestive words until they're engraved onto your memory. It's exactly the kind of wild pagan delusion that the church has tried so hard to stamp out, so you shouldn't be surprised to find it in a book penned by a Tomoe. Yet, here you can sense something that goes beyond the petty rebellions so common to the Tomoe. Something else, something far older.

“Get your head out of that book,” Ariel whispers, leaning over and gently poking you on the arm, “We're almost there.”

[1]
>>
>>6093533

There's something pleasant about coming back to Siegfried House, with its carefully maintained balance between luxury and martial pride. It has all the comforts that a young gentleman might want, without being uncouth about them. You can only imagine that your own family estate was like this once, back in the heights of your family's fortunes. Now those golden years are lost, while the Teilhard family are still enjoying their peak.

To your surprise, that thought sends a thrill of anger cutting through you. Shaking off the feeling, you hastily put Kalthos' book away as the carriage grinds to a halt.

“Well then,” Juno says lightly, “Shall I stay here? Maybe hide out of sight while you go about your righteous duty?”

Just as you're about to answer that, a pair of guards open the carriage doors and move to help you dismount. When they see Juno, though, they freeze in place.

“I think it's a little late for that,” you sigh.

-

Davidian Teilhard paces the length of his office, his brow furrowed with deep thought. Eventually, he stops and turns to face you. “I respect you, Master Pale, and for that I'm willing to hear you out,” he says sharply, “Why, exactly, have you come to my home with a whore of the Tomoe?”

You wonder what Juno would say to that, if she wasn't safely locked away in another room. Probably nothing suitable for polite company.

“Thanks to that Tomoe, ahem, woman, I've learned of another one of their agents operating in your territory,” you explain, “Miss Tomoe approached us on behalf of her family, with a request for our assistance in recovering this agent. I accepted their proposal, only because it would allow us to find this man. I have no intention of bringing him back to his masters.”

“And why would they approach you, in particular, for this?” Master Teilhard asks, although you can already see signs of him lowering his guard.

“Their own agents are in disarray after the Hauberk affair, but they know that we are on good terms,” you continue, the excuses coming easily to your tongue, “They assumed that I would be able to secure your assistance and recover their agent.”

Master Teilhard considers this. “I wonder,” he muses, “Bringing the Tomoe girl here-”

“That wasn't part of their plan,” you confirm, offering him a humourless smile, “I don't think they'll be asking for my help any time in the future.”

With a final nod, Master Teilhard sits down behind his desk and lets out a sigh. “I haven't heard any reports of trouble from Albershot Lodge, certainly nothing to indicate that they've apprehended a suspicious person,” he says, “Albershot is a very low priority outpost – they only send a message if something unusual has occurred. I've not had any messages, so I presume that all is well.”

Or they were wiped out.

[2/3]
>>
>>6093552

“What kind of place is Albershot Lodge?” Ariel asks, “I've never heard of it.”

“It's a hunting camp, primarily, set deep in a stretch of woods known for excellent game. We occasionally visit there with guests on special occasions – I spent a week there just before my wedding, as I recall. It's something of a luxury, and one that we rarely get to enjoy,” Master Teilhard explains, a faint note of regret creeping into his voice, “It's far back from the border, and quite isolated, so it only has a small caretaker staff.”

“I know what you're going to say,” he continues, holding up a hand to silence you, “But this is nothing like Fort Venger. These men are not old soldiers hungry for glory. They're more like... hermit monks.”

“I don't understand.”

“Master Reinhold is an old soldier, yes. He fought hard during the last Lliogor migration, and has little taste for further fighting. Watching over Albershot Lodge allows him to serve a purpose, whilst still pursuing the Solitude that he seeks. The rest of his men are the same,” Master Teilhard says quietly, “The Tomoe would have little chance of inciting such men to revolt.”

The mention of Solitude causes your stomach to lurch uneasily, but you don't get the chance to say anything before a knock at the door rings out. At Master Teilhard's hail, a uniformed soldier enters. “We've spoken with the prisoner,” he announces, “She claims to have recruited Master Pale in an attempt to recover a missing agent of theirs. She assumed he would be sympathetic to their cause, and hoped he would be able to learn the agent's location from you.”

Beside you, Ariel's shoulders slump slightly as a wave of relief washes over her.

“I see. You're dismissed,” Master Teilhard orders, giving you a faint smile, “Either you've done an excellent job at getting your stories straight, or you're telling the truth. In this case, I choose to believe the latter. Go to Albershot Lodge if you wish, Master Pale, but I would ask that you deliver this agent, should you find him, into my care.”

“Naturally,” you agree, “So we're free to go?”

“With my blessing,” the older man says, “You can even take the Tomoe girl with you. Not much of a blessing, however. Was there anything else?”

>Nothing else. We'll be on our way
>Is there anything else at Albershot that the Tomoe might be interested in?
>Are there any other sites nearby that this agent may have been seeking?
>I have some other questions... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6093560
>I've got a rousing tale of heroism to tell, but I'll leave that to Daniel when next he returns. It doesn't involve a Tomoe, for once.
>>
>>6093560
>Is there anything else at Albershot that the Tomoe might be interested in?
>>
>>6093572
>>6093577
+1 both in that order
Keep him hooked so he's eager to hear the cool story (which Daniel helped with)
>>
>>6093552
>You can only imagine that your own family estate was like this once, back in the heights of your family's fortunes. Now those golden years are lost, while the Teilhard family are still enjoying their peak.
>To your surprise, that thought sends a thrill of anger cutting through you.
But he forgets that now he's the sole Pale heir to the estate and the noble house itself, he can work to MAKE new golden years of his own. They might not be able to come close to what his ancestors once had, but who says they have to be?
>>
>>6093560
OP I find it very funny that Isambard is quickly becoming very used to all these "find this missing person" or "get me this X thing back" sidequest-esque ventures all these noble families are making him do. Eventually he's going to be so good at this that all the noble families will know him well for it and go to him with any weird or mysterious tasks, and soon they will all have no choice but to be indebted to him.
>>
“There is something, although it's better saved for another time,” you mention, thinking back to your dalliances at the Iron Keep, “A rousing tale of heroism, if such things interest you. The next we're all together, and Daniel is here to tell his side of the story, I'll be sure to tell you. It doesn't involve the Tomoe, which might sweeten the deal.”

Master Teilhard laughs. “Is this your humble attempt at boasting, Master Pale? I dare say that you must be quite proud of yourself if you want us all to hear your tale,” he says, looking aside to your companion, “Ariel, be honest with me now. Is your friend exaggerating?”

“I'm not sure if I'd call it a “rousing tale of heroism”, but it's certainly a story,” Ariel remarks, giving you a wry smile, “I don't know how much of it you'll believe, but I can confirm that it's true – at least, the bits that make me look good are true.”

“Very well. Consider me interested,” the old soldier decides, leaning back in his chair in a smirk, “But I feel as if that wasn't your only point to make.”


“Naturally, there's no fooling you,” you remark, “I wondered if there was anything else we should be aware of. Anything else at Albershot, aside from the people, that the Tomoe would be interested in?”

“The deer, perhaps?” Master Teilhard answers with a humourless laugh, “I hear that Master Tomoe is quite the hunter himself.”

“I'm not sure if deer are really his sport of choice.”

Master Teilhard waves away your retort with a wave of his hand. “I won't pretend to understand how the Tomoe think, or why they do the things they do,” he states curtly, “However, I understand that Albershot is old – the current lodge was built atop a previous site, something far older. There's hardly anything left of it now, but perhaps even that might be of some interest to them.”

“Perhaps so,” you agree with a thoughtful nod, “Thank you, Master Teilhard.”

“Oh, Ariel,” Master Teilhard asks as you're about to leave, “That rifle. May I?”

Ariel hesitates for a moment, then hands across the rifle. Master Teilhard takes it, weighing it in his hands before raising it to his shoulder and peering through the telescopic sight. With a soft grunt, he lowers the rifle again to take a closer look. “Handmade, hand fitted,” he remarks, lightly tapping the sight, “I can get you something factory made that'll be more precise.”

“Thank you, sir, but there's no need for that,” Ariel answers, her voice soft, “I prefer this one.”

Master Teilhard raises an eyebrow at this. “Suit yourself,” he says as he passes the rifle back, before giving you a hint of a smirk, “Just don't stand too close to anything she's trying to shoot, Master Pale.”

A master of strategy, as expected of House Teilhard.

[1]
>>
>>6093597
He might be the patriarch and needs to keep a hardass grim exterior and all, but he's still a Teilhard and he's still Dan's dad. The bro gene still flows strong in him no matter how hard he tries to suppress it in his daily life now. Surely the old man will get only cooler as time goes on and he knows Bard better.
>>
>>6093597

Escorted back out to your waiting carriage, you climb in and set off towards Albershot. Juno says little as the carriage rattles away from Siegfried House, content to peer out the window with hard, cold eyes. There's nothing to suggest that the Teilhards were anything other than courteous with her, but the diversion seems to have left her irritated.

“Maybe I missed something,” Ariel says lightly, “But when did we take the time to get our stories straight?”

“We didn't,” you answer.

“We didn't,” Juno says at the exact same moment.

“You mean you were just...” Ariel hesitates, her hands flapping in the air as she tries to gesture where words fail her, “Just making it up as you went along? Both of you?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“And it WORKED?”

“Apparently so,” Juno says with a yawn, “You see, men like Davidian Teilhard are particularly easy to fool because they believe what they want to believe. They happily swallow lies that confirm their biases and prejudices, and ignore anything that contradicts with those biases. Davidian Teilhard has tasted treachery, which, paradoxically, makes him more eager to believe those he sees as trustworthy.”

“That's an awful lot of words just to say that you think he's an idiot,” Ariel points out, scowling at Juno, “I'd appreciate it if you didn't insult my family straight to my face, thanks.”

“I'm not saying he's stupid,” the red-haired girl stresses, “It's perfectly normal human behaviour. Whether you consider that stupid or not is your business.”

“I'm not optimistic enough to ask you to stop arguing,” you interrupt, “But can we at least save the arguments for later?”

-

With the treeline rising up before you like a fortress wall, you disembark the carriage and look around for a trail. Eventually you spot the faded remnants of a dirt path cutting into the forest, although it looks like it hasn't been used in years. You'll have to proceed on foot from here, but the idea doesn't sit easily with you. A long walk is no particular hardship, but these woods look especially dense and foreboding.

“No use complaining about it,” you tell yourself with a sigh, “The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be finished.”

“Did they teach you that platitude at Coral House?” Juno teases, accepting your hand down from the carriage with an air of mocking gratitude.

“No, Coral House taught me how to hand insolent women over to House Teilhard,” you reply with a frown, “Now are you going to keep insulting me, or are we going to continue with this mission?”

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Juno makes a tiny adjustment to the short sword at her hip and marches off into the forest. You follow and, within a few minutes of walking, the outside world seems to have vanished completely – but for a few glimpses of the setting sun through the canopy above, you might have fully left the world behind.

[2/3]
>>
>>6093618

You're walking for about an hour before the path widens out to reveal the lodge itself. There's not much to look at – a few storage sheds surrounding a larger building like an oversized log cabin. You don't see any sign of the older site that Master Teilhard mentioned, but you suppose that must be long buried now. What bothers you is how silent, how still, the whole place is.

“Remind you of anything?” Ariel whispers to you, slowly popping open the holster and touching her revolver.

“No,” you murmur, “The Iron Keep had been left abandoned – mostly abandoned – for a long, long time. This feels different. This feels new.”

Gesturing for her to keep silent after this, and listening carefully, you approach the ajar front door and lightly push it open. The inside of the lodge is dark, but even through the gloom you can see that nobody has been here for a few days. There's a hearth, but only cold ashes lie within. A few plates are left scattered on the table, some still bearing the dried remains of a meal. “Hello?” you call out at last, when your nerves can no longer bear the silence.

A long silence greets you, and then a dull thud. Then another, and another – a slow, rhythmic beat. Drawing your own revolver, you creep through the lodge and follow the source of the sound. You pass a few empty bedrooms, reminding yourself to search through them later, before you open a perfectly normal door to find a staircase of white stone leading down into the darkness.

With your pocket lantern lighting the way, you descend the white stairs into a short corridor, a mixture of ancient white stone and newer masonry. A metal door has been placed in one empty doorway, and it is this door that someone, some THING, is beating against. Approaching, you draw back a metal cover and move to peer through the viewing window before a pale, sweaty face slams against the other side of the door.

“Please...” the young man rasped, the words ripped painfully from his parched throat, “Please, let me out.”

“In a minute,” you tell him, “Are you Armin Leigh?”

For a moment, the man looks as if he wants to nod and shake his head at the same time. He just hesitates, frozen in place as he tries to figure out which answer will give him his freedom.

-

Later, as the young man gulps water from a tin cup, you study him with Juno and Ariel. He looks thin and hungry, and you have to assume that he's been locked up without food and water for quite some time. Now that he's had a chance to wet his throat, though, there's a sly light in his eyes that you don't much like.

“I'll let you handle this one,” Juno whispers, “If he sees me, the poor boy might die of fright.”

You remember Hauberk's violent suicide all too well. How, then, to handle the young man?

>Keep as silent as possible, let him speak
>Try and win his trust. He probably appreciates a friendly face
>Push him hard. If he doesn't help you, he can go back in his cell
>Other
>>
>>6093643
>Push him hard
Finally got past captcha, it’s been killing me today
>>
“Leave him to me,” you murmur, “I'll see what he knows.”

“Try to leave him alive and relatively intact,” Juno urges coyly, “For now, at least.”

Giving her a sarcastic scowl, you approach the young man and sit down opposite him. He freezes, peering at you from across the rim of his cup. He looks younger than you first thought, with a look in his eyes that reminds you of a startled animal – the look of a beast calculating the danger, weighing up fight and flight.

“Armin Leigh,” you begin, “You ARE Armin Leigh, aren't you?”

“I'm hungry,” he replies, a faltering little laugh escaping him, “That's what I am.”

“Well, Master Hungry, you're not being very cooperative. If you're not willing to help us out, then we've got no further use for you,” you counter, fixing the young man with a cold stare, “We could just put you back in that cell and go about our business. I'm sure there was a very good reason why you were in there, and so-”

“W-wait!” he yelps, fumbling with the empty cup and nearly dropping it, “How do you know... I mean, what does it matter who I am?”

“Because I'm looking for Master Leigh. If you're not him, then I have no use for you,” you answer, “And, again, I'd have no reason not to lock you back up again.”

Fidgeting in his seat, the young man hangs his head low. “Yes. I'm Leigh,” he whispers, “Happy now? Can I have something to eat now?”

“Maybe. That depends on how cooperative you are. We're making progress, but there's still a long way to go,” you lean back in your chair, eager to be away from the almost feral look in his eyes, “Now, Master Leigh, I was led to believe that this lodge had a small garrison of soldiers. Yet, you're the only person I found here. Care to explain?”

“I don't know what happened to them,” he whines, his dirty hair flying as he shakes his head, “I was locked up, remember? They brought me food and water for a few days, and then... nothing.”

“There's a lot that you're not telling us,” you points out, gesturing for Ariel to come and lend a helping hand in the kitchen, “I understand. It must be hard to talk on an empty stomach.”

With pathetic eagerness, Leigh nods.

-

With the smell of slightly burnt food filling the lodge, you turn away from the frankly gruesome sight of Leigh devouring the meal. You realise that he was locked up without food for a few days, of course, but does he really have to be so unmannered?

When the plate is empty, Leigh lets out a low whimper. “There was a woman,” he says at last, his voice soft, “Not long after they caught me. I never saw her, but I overheard some of the men talking about her.”

“A woman,” you repeat.

“Yes, a woman,” Leigh shivers, hugging himself, “I don't know, I think... I think she was hurt. I heard one of the soldiers talking about sending for a doctor. But I don't think they ever did. Or if they did, the doctor never arrived.”

[1]
>>
>>6093668

“Let's take a step back,” you continue, “Why were you, Armin Leigh, caught in the first place? What were you doing here?”

“I... I was just paid to look around, okay?” Leigh answers nervously, “Scout out the woods a little, get the lay of the land. I didn't think I was doing anything wrong, but then I walked into this clearing here and all of a sudden this old man was pointing a gun at me! They marched me down into that basement, put me in that cell and...”

“And that's when the woman showed up,” you murmur, “Did you see her at all while you were, ah, scouting out the woods?”

Leigh shakes his head. “I never saw anyone. But, I mean, this forest is dense, right? If she wanted to hide...” he shudders, “After she showed up, things got weird. The other men, the soldiers, were scared. I mean, even locked up in that cell I could tell they were scared. I think... I think they forgot I was here after a while, because they'd come down into the basement whenever they wanted to have a private conversation.”

“Some of the men, they wanted to leave with the woman – bring her back to town, get her to a doctor. Others, they said they couldn't leave their post. Those ones, I don't think they trusted her. And then one of the men, I think... I think he wanted to keep the woman here,” Leigh hesitates, covering his mouth as if the food he just ate was sickening him, “I don't think his intentions were... honourable.”

“And the one day, they were all just... gone,” you muse, “Excuse me, Master Leigh. I just need to discuss this with my colleagues.”

With a weak nod, Leigh slumps back in his chair as a wave of fatigue strikes him. Retreating into the darkened hallway, you glance between Juno and Ariel. “Well?” you whisper, “What do we think?”

“I think we've got our man, we should leave as soon as possible,” Juno replies sharply, “Whatever happened here, it's been and gone. We shouldn't allow it to delay us.”

“If we leave now, we'll be trekking through that damn forest all night,” Ariel warns, “Even with a lantern, I'm not convinced we can follow the trail. If we get lost...”

“Stay the night, then?” Juno snaps, her lips twisting with irritation, “Well, why not? We can make a holiday out of it, maybe try and do a little bit of hunting while we're here!”

“Enough, both of you,” you interrupt, “Knock it off.”

>Ariel is right. We can't risk getting lost in the forest. Tomorrow morning, we leave
>Juno is right. I don't want to stay here a second longer than necessary. We leave immediately
>You're both wrong. I'm not leaving until I've figured out what happened here
>Let me ask Leigh some questions... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6093691
>Ariel is right. We can't risk getting lost in the forest. Tomorrow morning, we leave
We can make a little holiday of it
Good idea, Juno
>>
>>6093724
+1 but we stay on our guard and never leave alone. That's how they get you
>>
There should be arms around too. Getting Leigh armed to help us out could be of benefit. I doubt he'll betray us after we tell him that this is Juno Tomoe right here and that we're here to recover him alive. We're his ticket out of here
>>
“That's a good idea, actually. We SHOULD make a holiday out of it!” you tell Juno, a corrosive sarcasm dripping from your words, “It's been so long since I had some time off, and now we've got this whole place to ourselves!”

Juno waits with her arms folded, scowling at you. “Are you done?” she asks at last, “Quite finished?”

“No, I've still got some more left in me, but I'll keep that for later,” you answer, “Look, Ariel is right. If we hurry out now and end up lost in the woods, it's not going to help anyone. In fact, it'll be the exact opposite of helpful. Leigh has been here all alone for days, and he's okay. He's... alive, at least. We're spending one night here, one single night, and then we're leaving in the morning.”

“Can you say that again?” Ariel asks, “That first part. I didn't quite hear it.”

“Which part?”

“The part where you said “Ariel is right”. I think you should say that more often,” the pale girl explains, giving Juno a pointed look, “Because it's true.”

Juno looks between you and Ariel, then throws her hands up in a dramatic shrug. “Suit yourselves!” she snaps, “I rather suspect that it won't be as easy as you say, but I'm obviously outvoted here. But just so you know, I'm an early riser and I'll be sure to wake you both up too. I hope you're prepared for that.”

With that last announcement, Juno turns and marches off into the lodge. Ariel watches her leave, a wry smirk forming on one corner of her mouth. “She's cute when she's angry,” she whispers, “But I bet you're the one who'll have to deal with her temper.”

“I'll survive, somehow,” you sigh, “I wonder why she's getting so upset about this.”

“Shit, how should I know?” Ariel shrugs, “Two people agreed on something, so she felt a familial duty to disagree. But I don't know, she's the oracle here – maybe she's got a bad feeling about all this.”

Considering the strange, abandoned nature of the lodge, it would be stranger if she wasn't getting a bad feeling about it. “Maybe we should take some precautions,” you suggest carefully, “Stay armed, for a start, and nobody goes off alone.”

“Is this your cunning way of trying to share a bedroom?” Ariel shakes her head, “Sorry Isambard, but there are rules against that sort of thing. Even in the face of unknown danger, social norms still have to be upheld.”

“You could still share a room with Juno-”

“I think I'd rather risk the midnight stroll home.”

>It's getting a little late, so I'm going to pause here for today. I'll be continuing this tomorrow
>Thanks for playing along today!
>>
>>6093749
Thanks for running! Make sure Ariel is between us and Juno so she gets woken first.
>>
>>6093589
Good long-game.Supporting the notion.

>>6093745
+1 to this, too. Just don't specify who we're taking him alive TO.

>>6093749
We should ask Juno about her oracle-senses,a and how tingly they may or may not be. Or maybe she recognizes what is happening here from family lore? Either way, she's antsy to GTFO.

Thanks for running, QM!
>>
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Night falls slowly, the last traces of the sun gradually fading from the sky as you go about the lodge lighting as many lanterns as possible. Even as you're lighting them, you recognise that there's something foolish, something childish, about your insistence on having so much light. You couldn't even really say why you're doing it, but nobody stops you or complains about it, so you carry on regardless.

As you're lighting the lanterns, you take a look through the rest of the lodge for any sign of what happened to the garrison. Though the lodge itself is decorated with a certain understated luxury, the individual bedrooms are remarkably austere – there's not much to search through. A few rifles, borderline antiques, are left in a rack near Leigh's cell, but there's no indication that any of the weapons are missing or were fired in anger.

There's only one room that really draws your gaze – a heavier door on the upper floor with a serious lock on it. A brass plaque screwed into the door carries the name “Reinhold”, which you recall from Master Teilhard's briefing. The leader – former leader – of this place, you assume. Aside from Leigh's cell, it's the only room you've seen so far with a proper lock on it. Studying it, you wonder just how much grovelling it'll take for Juno to try and work her magic on the lock.

However much it is, it'll be too much.

-

You're not sure what wakes you, the opening and closing of a door or the creak of a floorboard. Whatever it is, you're awake in an instant. Sitting up in bed, you feel a sudden disquiet that drives you to hastily don your boots and coat. Grabbing a lantern, you creep out into the hallway and glance about. One of the bedroom doors, Leigh's room, is slightly ajar, and when you peer inside you see the empty, unmade bed.

Hoping that Leigh has simply gotten up for a midnight snack, you head downstairs and look around the lodge. It's only when you look out the window that you see any sign of life, a faint lantern glow shining from within the dense forest outside. Muttering a curse, you leave the lodge and hurry towards the treeline. There, you pause, frozen at the threshold.

Shaking off your fear, you plunge into the trees and make your way towards the faint light. Thick bushes claw at your clothes as you duck under low branches and stumble over fallen logs. Somewhere far off in the distance, a chorus of night owls shriek out their terrible cries as you press deeper and deeper into the forest until, finally, you find the fallen lantern. A few paces away, slumped at the base of a great tree, Leigh stares into empty space with wide, fearful eyes.

“I heard her. I HEARD her,” Leigh whispers, his voice trembling, “She was... singing.”

[1/2]
>>
>>6094402

“We have to go back. We have to find her...” Leigh mumbles as you drag him back towards the lodge, “She's still out there somewhere...”

“We're not doing anything until morning,” you grunt, pausing as the young man tries to struggle free from your grasp, “And even then, we're heading straight home. There are a lot of people looking for you, Master Leigh. I'd hate to disappoint them.”

Leigh lets out a low moan of dismay, but soon abandons his feeble attempts at wriggling free. Emerging from the treeline, you see that you're not the only one who's awake – framed against the lights burning within the lodge is a tall figure standing in the doorway. Juno watches you with a faint amusement as you drag Leigh up to the lodge, not even offering to lend a hand. When Leigh raises his sagging head and sees her, his eyes are first muddled with confusion before widening with fear.

“Well well,” she begins, “Taking the dog for a walk?”

“Go and get some rest. We've got a lot of walking to do in the morning,” you tell Leigh, tactfully ignoring Juno's jibe, “I know you said that you were an early riser, Miss Tomoe, but this is a little much.”

Rolling her eyes, Juno gestures towards a pair of seats. “Okay, fine. Let's talk,” you continue, sitting down opposite her, “You know something about what's going on here, don't you? That's why you're so keen to get out of here.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in my powers of prediction,” Juno sneers, “But I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. I don't know what's going on here. I know that SOMETHING is going on here, but I'd say that's fairly obvious – even to you.”

“We... like to think that we live in a rational, logical world,” she continues, after a moment of silence, “A world which follows certain rules. But it's not like that. Look beneath the surface, look to the isolated, forgotten parts of the world, and you see something else. Something far older than the “rules” we so desperately cling to, something that exists outside the natural order. We can push them far to the periphery, but we can never be truly rid of them.”

You think of the ancient white stone beneath the lodge, the remnants of some long distant survival. “And that's what we're dealing with here?” you wonder aloud, “Some... thing from outside?”

“We're not “dealing” with it,” Juno says sharply, “Because we're leaving here at first light.”

>Of course. That's what I said, wasn't it?
>In the morning. Until then, there's a door I'd like your help with
>Things must be serious if you're this scared
>This “woman” Leigh keeps talking about. What do you think?
>I think... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6094404
>Things must be serious if you're this scared
>This “woman” Leigh keeps talking about. What do you think?
I suspect this mystery woman's some sort of entity who's lured the men into the woods one by one and eaten them. I suggest we say this casually and gauge Juno's reaction.
>>
>>6094416
+1
But even so that speculation doesn't really hold up. If she killed all the men one by one, then that means there would have to be a few with their wits about them who tried to escape. They might have died in the wilderness or on the way to the main road... but we found no bodies or evidence.
>>
“I understand,” you reply, giving Juno a humourless smirk, “Things must be serious if you're this scared.”

“I'm not scared!” Juno snaps, “I'm-”

Silence, then, as she cuts her words short.

“I'm all too aware of how dangerous these things can be,” she continues after a moment, her voice low and cold, “Not dangerous like a sword or a bullet, or even like a wild beast. These things, these outsiders, are insidious – they fascinate, as much as they repulse. They draw men in with the promise of great things, only to destroy them. Men like your father. Maybe men like yourself.”

The mention of your father causes your blood to run cold, although your face remains an impassive mask. “You should be a writer,” you jeer, “You certainly have a fine turn of phrase.”

“Oh yes, of course. Dismiss my perfectly sensible advice. By all means, go ahead.” Juno spits, “You ass.”

With a slight tilt of your head, you offer her a faint gesture of concession. “So is that what happened here, do you think?” you ask, “This “woman” that Leigh mentioned. You think she was drawing these men in and... what, devouring them?”

“I wouldn't go quite that far,” the red-haired girl says slowly, as if she can't decide if you're being serious or not, “At least, not in a literal sense. But from what Leigh said, this woman had a very pronounced effect on these men. They took her in, cared for her... and obsessed over her. She would have had a great deal of power over them.”

“So, if you're asking me for advice, I'll tell you this,” Juno concludes, “If you happen to see a mysterious woman out in the woods, please resist your urges to do anything foolish. I know it's hard, but do try. For me?”

“I'll try my best,” you answer.

“Thank you. And I'll do the same.”

-

When morning comes, you wake with a pounding headache. It's hardly surprising, given your restless night, but that doesn't make it any easier. A dull pressure builds behind your eyes, while your heartbeat pulses in your ears. It's so loud that it takes you a moment to realise that there's someone knocking at your door. Hauling yourself upright and making a cursory effort at dressing yourself, you open the door a crack and find yourself confronted with Juno's reddened, bloodshot eyes.

“Finally,” she mutters, “I thought you were going to sleep all day.”

You glance around with an exasperated sigh, gesturing at the first signs of sunrise peeking through the window. If this is what she considers a late start, you have to wonder if she slept at all last night. Not much, by the look of her. Gathering up the last of your things, you move to the next door over and knock heavily. Eventually, Leigh opens the door and shuffles out like a man walking to the gallows.

“I don't want to go,” he mumbles.

“That's too bad,” Juno tells him, “Because we're leaving.”

[1]
>>
>>6094429

Leigh is still muttering to himself as you wake Ariel, who actually looks as if she's had a decent night's sleep. “Wow,” she remarks, looking between you and Juno, “You both look awful. If I was a more suspicious person, I might start wondering a few things.”

“You mean, did we spend the whole night rutting like wild beasts?” Juno asks, giving Ariel a mocking glare, “Unfortunately not. This dismal little lodge is hardly the sort of place to put either of us in the mood.”

“Uh...” Ariel pauses, a slight blush creeping through her cheeks, “I'm sorry I said anything.”

“So you should be,” Juno snarls, brushing past the shorter girl and heading for the stairs.

-

The forest is deathly silent as you set out along the path towards your waiting carriage. The silence here reminds you of the dusty lands surrounding the old palace, with their unbroken stillness. It's nothing at all like how a healthy forest should sound, alive with birdsong and the hum of insects. Your progress is slower than when you first arrived, both because of Leigh slowing you down and a general caution.

You're all armed with rifles taken from the lodge, save for Ariel who brought her own, but you're not sure if you'd trust Leigh to shoot straight. At the very least, he might raise the alarm by getting a shot off before being horribly murdered.

Your headache grows worse as you walk, an atonal hum echoing through your ears. Too much time shooting, you think to yourself, especially in close quarters like the tunnels beneath the Iron Keep. Your bitter thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Juno stumbles in front of you, nearly falling before you manage to catch her. “What's wrong?” you ask sharply as you help her back up.

“Nothing's wrong,” she replies, one hand clumsily feeling for her face, “I just caught my foot on something. That's all.” You glance back at the trail behind you, but you don't see anything that might have tripped her. “Let's just keep moving,” Juno continues, her voice muffled by the droning sound pulsing through your ears, “We should be close. We've been walking for long enough.”

Nodding a reply, you stay close by as Juno forges off ahead. Then the forest trail widens up before you, and you come to a sudden halt. Before you stands Albershot Lodge, looming impossibly before you.

“This is...” you whisper, “This isn't possible. We never strayed from the path, never lost our way. It's almost a straight path out of the forest! So how-”

A faltering giggle interrupts you. “Can't you hear it?” Leigh laughs, then sobs, “She's singing to us.”

With a sudden furious motion, Juno grabs Leigh's collar and slams him back into a nearby tree. “You bastard!” she spits, drawing back a hand to strike him, “What did you do?”

>Help Juno. Leigh must be responsible for this
>Sop Juno. She's got the wrong man
>Do nothing. Let things play out
>Other
>>
>>6094438
>Seems it's too late with the suspicious woman thing. I suppose this is why you're not too fond of your father?
>Hey Ariel, how do you feel about burning the whole forest down?
>Don't stop Juno, but ask her if she'd prefer to get the door and see if the sanest person in the lodge kept a journal.
>>
>>6094420
Unless she has some sort of hypnotic hold, as Juno posits and as Leigh seemed to demonstrate.

>>6094438
...Which makes this droning sound worry me. I don't think it's tinnitus.
>Stop Juno. She's got the wrong man.
>Panic a little
The droning is her song! Did Juno hear it, too? Did Ariel? Everyone, back to back, guns out!
>>
>>6094446
+1
>>
>>6094438
>Stop Juno. She's got the wrong man
>Investigate Reinhold's room
Might be better to at least knock him out for now but I doubt he'd know anything and killing him would probably be a waste. And I think we basically did already search the place except for that room since it was locked.
>>
>>6094450
Can we do the Reinhold room check too? We can still be back to back in the main lodge
>>
You stare, frozen in place as Juno slaps Leigh across the face. When she readies her next blow, though, a clenched fist aimed directly for his stomach, you lurch into motion and catch her arm before she can throw the punch. Juno turns savagely, and for a moment you feel her strength warring against your own. Then her eyes clear, at least somewhat, and the strength seeps from her arm.

“That's enough,” you tell her quietly, even as your heart pounds in your chest, “You've got the wrong man.”

“Very likely,” she concedes, “Although we wouldn't be here if not for him, which makes him equally guilty in my eyes. I'm not saying he deserves death, but a little beating should-”

“Look, just... forget Leigh for a moment,” you interrupt, “I think you were right, before. This woman, if it's really a woman that we're dealing with, is the one behind this. Tell me. What do you hear?”

“I hear a lot of annoying noise,” Juno says, her eyes fixing on yours, “But aside from that, a... a sound. Like countless conversations being held just at the very edge of my senses.”

You pause, focusing on the drone. Now that you're paying attention to it, it does remind you, in a way, of conversation. It has a very faint rise and fall to it, so gentle that it blends together into a monotone hum if you don't focus on it. If you concentrated hard enough, you think, you might be able to make out some of the words. They sound like-

“Isambard!” Ariel snaps, punching you on the arm. The slight pain is enough to bring you back to your senses, looking round to the pale girl. “This isn't the time for daydreaming,” she scolds, nodding to Juno, “Didn't you hear her question?”

“Of course I heard it,” you lie, “Just... give me a reminder?”

“I was asking what your point was,” Juno says tersely, “You seem to think that this noise, this hum, obviously means something. What?”

Swallowing heavily, you look around to Leigh. He sits slumped at the base of the tree, listening with a mingled expression of terror and awe.

“It's her song,” you murmur, “I think it's her song.”

-

With a sudden burst of energy, you retreat back into the lodge. Once everyone is inside, even through Juno needed to drag Leigh along with her, you slam the door shut and lock it. You're even less sure of what you're defending against, but you're not willing to take any chances. “Juno, there's a locked door upstairs,” you announce, flapping a hand at the stairs, “Master Reinhold's private chambers, I think. I want that door open. He might have kept a journal, or... or something.”

“I'll take a look,” she replies firmly, turning and marching up the stairs. Her immediate agreement gives you pause, and the argument you had been preparing for dies on your lips.

“Right. What next?” you mutter to yourself, sitting down at the main table with Ariel, “A plan. We need to come up with a plan.”

[1]
>>
>>6094461

“Ariel,” you begin, “I need to check. What do you hear?”

Ariel closes her eyes and concentrates for a moment, then shakes her head. “Not much,” she answers, “A very slight buzz, like there's an insect circling me. It's annoying, but it's not a big deal.”

“And back there, when we were leaving the forest. What do you remember?”

“We were walking along like normal. We'd been walking for about an hour, I guess, when I felt a little dizzy. I mean, I'm not really the hiking type, you know?” she gives you a weary shrug, “Then Miss Tomoe took her stumble, and you helped her up. The next thing I know, we walked out into the clearing and saw the lodge again.”

Leaning back, you ponder these words for a moment. “How do you feel about arson?” you ask carefully, “Specifically, burning down a troublesome forest?”

“I'm... not sure if that's a good idea,” Ariel answers, her mouth twisting into a grimace, “Fire has a nasty habit of spreading, you know.”

“Don't worry, that's just a last resort option,” you assure her, glancing aside to where Leigh lies sprawled out on the floor, “Keep an eye on him, will you? I'm going to check on Juno.”

Ariel nods silently, placing her revolver on the table for easy access. Climbing the stairs, you see Juno crouched down motionless before Reinhold's door. Even when the floorboards creak underfoot as you approach her, she doesn't turn around. When you're finally close enough to touch, you gently place a hand on her shoulder. She tenses up suddenly, looking around with a flash of guilt in her eyes.

“Don't sneak up on me like that,” she hisses, “I was concentrating. Planning my attack. This is a tricky lock.”

“I see,” you reply, glancing aside at her untouched set of tools. With a scowl, Juno selects a tool at random and angrily stabs at the lock. “I think I understand something now,” you continue, sitting down and leaning back against the wall, “That talk about outsiders drawing men in and destroying them... you're worried that you're father might be one of those men too, right?”

“You're projecting,” Juno mutters, swapping to another tool, “...But he was interested in this place for a reason, and I don't think it's the hunting. Now just... hush up for a minute. I think I've-”

With a solid, satisfying clunk, the lock opens.

-

The first thing that you see when you open the door is the tall portrait. It depicts a man in military uniform, one sleeve hanging empty. His face is worn and solemn, painted with a rueful look in his eye. Quite impressive skill. “I'm assuming this is Master Reinhold,” you muse, “Now I see why he had to give up fighting.”

“It was just a minor wound, until the infection took hold,” Juno whispers, “They took his sword arm to save his life. The choice was more of an agony than the surgery.”

Oracle tricks again.

[2/3]
>>
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>>6094502

Master Reinhold's quarters are only slightly less austere than the rest of the bedrooms. The large portrait is an obvious luxury, but aside from that everything else is just slightly... nicer than everything else you've seen. The writing desk in the corner seems well-used, and you immediately start searching through the drawers. After a moment, you find a slim journal and quickly flick through the pages.

The first entry you read describes Leigh's arrival and immediate capture. But Leigh is soon forgotten when the woman enters the scene. Reinhold mentions putting her in a room, but you searched each one – there were no signs of blood, no soiled sheets or stained bandages. It doesn't make sense.

“What's this about a great tree?” Juno wonders, reading over your shoulder. Moving back, she starts to search through the other drawers until she comes up with a simple, hand-drawn map. It's hardly a precise instrument, but it gives a few landmarks – such as they are – scattered throughout the forest, a particularly large tree amongst them.

“So this woman was leading the men to this great tree, to fulfil some kind of “promise”, whatever that means,” you muse, “The tree is clearly important, but... are you listening?”

“What? Yes!” Juno insists, her gaze snapping back into focus, “We'd better check on Leigh, don't you think?”

-

When you return downstairs, you find Ariel holding Leigh at gunpoint. The young man sits opposite her, sweat beading on his forehead as he tries not to move. “He kept pacing around,” Ariel explains, noticing your dubious look, “It was annoying. So I sat him in that chair and told him that I'd blow his brains out if he moved a muscle.”

“Listen...” Leigh whispers, “She's talking to us...”

“And he keeps saying that,” Ariel adds with a scowl, “I hope you've got a plan, or at least some good news.”

>There's a great tree at the centre of all this. We need to go there
>We need to get out of here. We'll try the path again and again until it works
>Give me a minute alone. Maybe I can learn something from this song
>I've got a plan... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6094525
>There isn't a mortar here or anything is there? I would so love to shoot this great tree from a distance.
>Do we have anything that can plug up our ears? Maybe if we can't hear anything we won't be affected by whatever is keeping us here.
>I'm not entirely joking on the arson. We could set ONE tree on fire and try to move away from the burning smell.
>>
>>6094525
Bleeding wound, hm? The pic in >>6093533 seems relevant.

>We need to get out of here. We'll try the path again and again until it works
>>
>>6094525
First order of business
>Tie up Leigh
>>6094534
Having canon would be based as fuck.
>Do we have anything that can plug up our ears
Soma bandages and candle wax should do it something they should have.
>I'm not entirely joking on the arson.

I mean just have Leigh lead us to the tree shoot the women and burn down the tree.
>>
>>6094534
>>6094544
+1
>>
What is going on with Juno? She's been weird this entire time
>“Stay the night, then?” Juno snaps, her lips twisting with irritation
>Juno waits with her arms folded, scowling at you.
>“We're not “dealing” with it,” Juno says sharply
>“I'm not scared!” Juno snaps
>Juno spits, “You ass.”
>find yourself confronted with Juno's reddened, bloodshot eyes.
>Juno asks, giving Ariel a mocking glare
>Your bitter thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Juno stumbles in front of you, nearly falling
>one hand clumsily feeling for her face, “I just caught my foot on something. That's all.”
>Juno slaps Leigh across the face. When she readies her next blow, though, a clenched fist aimed directly for his stomach
>you feel her strength warring against your own. Then her eyes clear
>tenses up suddenly, looking around with a flash of guilt in her eyes.
>glancing aside at her untouched set of tools. With a scowl, Juno selects a tool at random and angrily stabs at the lock
>“What? Yes!” Juno insists, her gaze snapping back into focus
Extremely out of character and too aggressive even for her. She's clearly being affected by whatever is causing this mindfuck effect in the entire area. I'm curious why Ariel seems the one person completely null to this effect. Even Isambard is feeling what's happening, but not her
>>
>>6094551
>Extremely out of character and too aggressive even for her. She's clearly being affected by whatever is causing this mindfuck effect in the entire area.

Or she is on her period.
>>
>>6094525
>Give me a minute alone, maybe I can learn something from the song
>>
>>6094525
>>6094534
>>6094544
+1

>>6094551
The real plot twist is that Ariel really is a girl all along which is why she's barely affected by the siren's song while Juno on the other hand...
The part where she randomly trips does seem to be when the looping or whatever keeps us trapped occurs though.
>>
“We need to get out of here,” you state firmly, jabbing a finger at the table, “As soon as possible.”

“We tried that already,” Ariel points out, “It didn't work out so well.”

“Then we'll try it again and again, as many times as it takes, until it finally works,” you snarl, “There has to be a way. We'll stop our ears to block out the song, and light a tree on fire to use it as a signal. This... monster in woman's skin is trying to draw us to the great tree, but I'm not going to play along with her game. Short of blasting the damn thing with a cannon, I don't want to go anywhere near that tree.”

“The tree?” Leigh murmurs, “I've seen a tree, seen it in my dreams. She takes my hands and leads me to the tree. Beneath the spreading branches, we join our bodies and-”

“That's quite enough from you,” Ariel interrupts mildly, “Nobody's interested in your intimate fantasies.”

“It's not like that!” Leigh insists, rising from his chair, “Don't make such vile-”

But his words are cut off sharply as Juno grabs him by the throat and throws him back down into the chair so hard that he knocks it sprawling and lands hard. Leaping to his feet with a sudden desperate anger burning in his eyes, Leigh lunges for Ariel's revolver. Just as his hand closes around the gun's grip, you seize his wrist and floor him with a punch. For the second time in as many seconds, Leigh is sent tumbling to the ground. This time, though, he doesn't rise.

“Find some rope, something we can use to tie his wrists... and gag him,” you order, kneeling down beside the groaning man, “I think it's time he went back in his cell.”

-

Leigh struggles a little as you carry him back down to the cell, but he's too weak to do anything more than irritate you. Dumping him down on the bed and closing the cell door behind you, you lean back against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. With the other girls upstairs, you finally have a rare moment of peace and quiet. A sense of calm, of contentment, washes over you. Out in the embrace of the forest, away from the world of men, you could find a true form of acceptance. You need only-

“Isambard!” Ariel snaps, her voice jolting you from your delusions, “Knock it off!”

“You knock it off,” you snarl back, “I was just resting my eyes for a second. I've barely slept a wink!”

“A second? I was calling you for almost ten minutes,” she says, fear flashing through her eyes, “Isambard, please, we need to go. Now. Before this gets any worse. I found some candle wax we can use to stop up our ears. Hopefully that'll be enough, but we need to GO.”

“I know that, I know,” you mutter, rubbing your aching temples, “I just...”

“Don't,” Ariel interrupts, “It doesn't matter. No more talking, just get moving.”

[1]
>>
>>6094566

Even with the thick clots of wax filling your ears, you can still FEEL the song tugging at you. You might not be able to hear the hum, but your bones ache with it. Swallowing down a wave of nausea, you give Ariel a firm nod and set out from the lodge. Picking a relatively isolated tree, something that shouldn't spread too easily to the rest of the forest, you set it aflame and wait until a column of black smoke rises into the sky. Even through the dense canopy of leaves and branches, you should be able to guide your way with it.

“Maybe this isn't such a good idea,” Juno says suddenly, glancing back at the lodge. At least, that's what you think she says – with your ears plugged, you're reduced to reading her lips.

Simply shaking your head, you grab her hand and pull her forwards a few paces. That snaps her back to reality. Snatching her hand away from you, she angrily marches off ahead. Together, keeping up that furious pace, you plunge into the forest and – you hope – to safety.

Only pausing very occasionally, and then just to glance back for the telltale sign of black smoke, you press forwards. But it's not long before the plan starts to go awry. Each time you look back, the trees around you seem to have grown larger and larger, more crooked as if they're trying to block out the sky. When you look back, you find that the path has vanished beneath your feet.

“Just go!” Ariel shouts, mouthing the words and tugging at your sleeve. You nod, grabbing Juno by the arm and dragging her onwards. Your march descends into a chaotic rout as you flee blindly through the forest, a curse forming on your lips as you burst from the treeline once more only to find yourself staring up at the lodge.

“Again!” you snap, wheeling around and charging into the forest. You run this time, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead. Even then, you see strange things in the peripherals of your vision – flashes of white flesh, almost luminous in the eerie lighting. Even with your ears stopped, you can hear a whispering voice and the terrible offers it proposes to you. “Ignore them,” you pant, “Ignore them, ignore them, ignore-”

“Brother?”

The word stops you in your tracks, cutting through any logic or reason. You freeze, casting a wild eye into the forest before your will returns. Grimacing, casting aside all sentiment, you set off running once more – and once more, you find yourself returning to the lodge. Anger boils up within you as you stare up at the cursed building, the whole damn cursed forest. Beside you, Juno stares in defeated dismay while Ariel gasps for breath. She looks to be on the verge of collapse, her frail body pushed to the limits.

“Again!”

[2/3]
>>
>>6094576

Time loses all meaning, all sense and reason. Your world becomes a mindless whirlwind of running, of trees flashing past and tall columns of black smoke. This time the smoke is everywhere, impossible pillars of black smoke rising up around you, ahead of you, so close that you think you might run into a blazing tree at any minute. Yet, you never do – just as you never seem to get any closer to finding an exit.

At one point, you don't know exactly when, you claw the wax from your ears. It doesn't seem to matter – the song is already inside you like a poison, gnawing your bones and choking your veins. With your ears unblocked, you hear a thin cry from behind you as Ariel collapses down to her knees.

“Ariel!” you call, stopping dead in your tracks. Retreating back to her, you drop low. “Ariel, are you okay?” you ask in a rush, taking the slender girl's hands and squeezing them. She shudders, her whole body trembling from the exertion, and shakes her head. Too fatigued for words, all she can do is shake her head over and over again.

“We were never going to get out of here,” Juno says slowly, her voice low and exhausted, “We're lost.”

“Shut up. Knock it off,” you snap, giving her a glare, “I never thought you'd be the type to give up.”

But Juno doesn't reply to this, simply turning on her feel and sluggishly walking back the way you came. In a matter of seconds, the forest has swallowed her up. Yet, as she leaves – as she surrenders herself to the forest – you hear a change. The song fades, loosening its grip on you even as it tightens around Juno.

“Isambard...” Ariel whispers, clinging tightly to you, “I think... I think we have a chance.”

But at what cost?

>Juno has given you this chance. You're not going to waste it
>You can't leave Juno behind. You've got to go after her
>Other
>>
>>6094577
>>Other
>Allow yourself and Ariel some time to rest then go after Juno.

Going there without least affected person would be retarded.
>>
>>6094551
>>6094561
Is Ariel unaffected? She pulled a gun on a man for pacing. Granted, he's a Tomoe spy, but even so...

>>6094583
+1
>>
>>6094577
>You can’t leave Juno behind, go after her
>>
>>6094577
>You can't leave Juno behind. You've got to go after her
>>6094583
If we wait at all she's lost.
>>
You stare into the trees for what seems like an eternity, as if Juno might emerge with a happy smile on her face at any moment. Slumping down beside Ariel, you feel a wave of dismay, of hopelessness, creeping through you. Maybe the game was rigged from the start. Maybe you were doomed from the moment you set foot in this forest. It's just like Juno said – something old and terrible has revealed itself here, and you're all just so many flies for it to destroy.

“Isambard?” Ariel whispers, her voice more level now, “Can you... stand? Can you walk?”

“I think so,” you reply, the words seeming to come from somewhere very far off. Slowly, painfully, you rise to your feet and offer Ariel your hand. She takes it gratefully, heaving herself upright. As she stands, she pauses and tilts her head to the side as if listening. “Hey now, hey,” you whisper, taking her gently by the chin and turning her face back towards yours, “Don't listen. I need you to focus.”

That's right. She may have a striking resistance to whatever this... song truly is, but she's not immune. What it can't achieve by insidious means, it could achieve through brute strength – battering down her will until there's nothing left of her to resist it.

“I have to go now,” you tell her, looking back into the trees, “I have to go.”

“Yes, we need to... wait. Hold on, wait!” Ariel yelps, “You mean go AFTER her?”

With a numb, unfeeling nod, you set off after Juno's trail. Ariel hesitates for a moment before hurrying after you, cursing and complaining under her breath.

-

You only seem to be walking for a few minutes before you see a particularly large tree rising up above the rest of the canopy. The tree sits atop a slight rise in the ground, the soil swelling up like a pregnant body, while a few chunks of white stone protrude from the ground. You barely notice your body move as you circle the tree, spotting Juno standing in a daze by a broken stone column.

“You came,” the red-haired girl says slowly, her voice hushed, “I didn't think you would.”

“I'm here now,” you murmur, “What now?”

Juno doesn't answer this straight away, running her hands across the strange letters carved into the white stone column. “This pillar has been erected on account of the marriage seen beneath the shade,” she translates, before pointing to a dark, dank opening in the tree's branches, “We have to go now. There's a promise that we have to fulfil.”

You stare into the black abyss beneath the tree, the scent of rot and decay seeping out from within.

>There's no way that I'm going in there. You're insane
>You go in if you want, but I'm not setting one foot in that place
>Let's go back to the lodge and talk this over. None of this makes sense
>>
It's some boring "come get yourself killed and become one with the flesh pile like an idiot so the stupid tree can use you as nutrient" plot isn't it?
>>
>>6094610
Do we have ways to make a fire on us?
>>
>>6094610
>Purge it with fire!
>>
>>6094631
>>6094633
Why would you want to do that? That seems like a very extreme reaction.
We do have our pocket lantern and oil which could potentially allow us to start a fire
>>
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“We have to go now,” you agree, nodding at the beautiful logic of her words, “There's a promise that we have to fulfil.”

“What?” Ariel yelps, grabbing your arm, “Isambard, please-”

Gently, you take her hand and push it away from your arm. Then, gesturing for Juno to lead the way, you crouch low and crawl into the dark opening. The scent of soil assaults you, but you ignore it. For what awaits you below, a few bad smells and a bit of discomfort are a small price to pay. Roots and loose rocks tug at your clothing, and Juno's boots occasionally catch your blind, groping hands, but you persist nonetheless.

Eventually, the passage widens up enough that you can first raise your head, then stand completely. The tunnel has opened up into an impossible cavern, a great yawning hollow beneath the surface. Leaning against a row of rocky spikes, you peer down into the pool of water below you. Though you can't see the source, a pale blue light glows from the water with the occasional passing shadow to darken it.

Smiling softly, Juno takes your hand and leads you down to the pool below. Your world contracts until the surface of the water is all you know. Like Lake Hali back at the Pale estate, the water seems bottomless – an abyss that reaches out forever. A ripple spreads out across the surface of the water, and then SHE emerges.

Long silver hair, heavy with water, first, and then a pair of piercing silver eyes. Delicate features and soft curves are revealed as the woman slowly emerges from the pool. You haven't seen that face for ten years, yet it's so immediately familiar that it strikes a dagger through your heart. She reaches out a hand, gently brushing her fingers against your cheek. Her touch is cold and somehow rough, but you cherish it nonetheless.

“You...” Juno murmurs, and just for a moment you see a strange double image – a mess of gold curls clashing with the straight silver hair. Then the fake image is gone, and HER face returns. HER lips part to form the words to a terrible promise, and she leans closer, closer still, until.

The gunshot is violently loud in the narrow confines of the cavern, knocking the woman back into the pool with a crash of water. A cry escapes your lips as you reach for her, but then you freeze. The impossibility of this whole situation finally cuts through the haze – how could Gratia be HERE?

“Isambard, look out!” a tense shouts, the words echoing down to you. Looking up and around, you see Ariel braced against the high rocks by the tunnel entrance, her rifle raised to her shoulder. “Look out!” she repeats, gesturing frantically for you to move. A stench of wet decay washes over you as you turn back, just in time to see the woman once more.

Only this time, she's not a woman.

[1/2]
>>
>>6094670

There's something terribly unfinished about the creature rising up from its pool of stagnant water – perhaps the mismatched arms, two on one side of its body, a single arm on the other, or perhaps the ragged ribbons of flesh streaming from the back of its head. Even the flesh seems crudely sculpted, pallid and pulsating like a giant maggot.

Ariel fires again, her bullet punching into the monstrosity's torso with no noticeable impact. A thin stream of pale blood seeps from the wound for a moment before the flesh closes up once more. Her second shot hits higher, catching the monster in the head and causing its rise to falter. That buys you enough time to pull Juno to her feet and back away from the pool's edge.

“Go!” you shout, dragging Juno back up the rocky slope. Ariel's rifle sings again and again as you retreat, each shot stalling the monster a little less than the one before. When you reach the top, you slap Ariel on the arm and point to the tunnel entrance. Hastily slinging her rifle, she scrambles into the passage and starts crawling. Juno follows, while you fumble with your pocket lantern. Fire, you think desperately, fire kills everything.

A wet crash rings out from below, and you look back to see the monster dragging itself from the pool. It's lower half is ill-suited to such movement, but a primal rage drives it onwards regardless.

You don't stick around long enough to see how far it can crawl. Clawing blindly at the damp soil, you pull yourself up through the tunnel. Inch by agonising inch, you drag your way towards the hazy sunlight above. As the exit approaches, strong arms reach down to take your hand and pull you free. Shaking off Juno's grip, you immediately turn and start emptying your supply of lantern oil onto the great tree. Ariel realises your plan and starts adding her own oil.

One lit match, and the whole tree is ablaze. Even when you stop up your ears, the monster screams inside your head for a very, very long time.

>I'm going to pause here. Next time I'll be able to run is Saturday and Sunday this week. I'll probably aim to get some extra days in the following week, but that needs confirmation
>Thanks for playing along today!
>>
>>6094673
Thanks for running!
Did you just give up trying to generate a more anatomically normal siren, or did you see three arms and immediately think "this is it"?
>>
>>6094673
It all came together in the end. Thanks for the run.
>>
>>6094670
>“You...” Juno murmurs, and just for a moment you see a strange double image – a mess of gold curls clashing with the straight silver hair
Who has gold curly hair that Juno cares about?
>>
Ariel MVP of this mission. Whatever she (he?) is and whatever the sexual preferences are, it was enough to give resistance to that siren's song. What could be that "the marriage seen beneath the shade"? And why is a flesh siren creature suddenly out and killing people here? For how long was that hole in a great tree there alongside the weird cavern with an abyss lake? How did the group stationed here at the Lodge not know about this place? What could have caused the siren to start pulling and killing people like this when they weren't doing so far earlier and this is clearly a recent happening?
>>
>>6094673
Thanks for running!
Fire confirmed super based

>>6094769
Maybe she doesn’t have a super close loved one for the creature to impersonate
>>
>>6094673
Holy shit. Good writing!

>>6094753
Nobody we know yet, I don't think.

>>6094769
Good point re: preferences. maybe that blonde girl was Juno's lover? She's been acting like she's into our boy, bard, but she may be bi. She's been sort of aggressively/threateningly flirty at Elle before, as I recall.
>>
>>6094769
>why is a flesh siren creature suddenly out and killing people here?

I think we’ve been too dismissive of Leigh here

The creature only stirred after he arrived…and he came from the woods.

I wouldn’t put it past him to have woken the creature deliberately, but been foiled in his escape plan by its influence
>>
>>6094952
Or he really is some random schmuck, and the Tomoe triggered the incident by getting anyone to be close enough to the creature to get its notice.
>>
>>6094687
My original idea was a mermaid with elements of some weird deep sea fish, the really gross predatory ones. Most of the other images I rolled were too inhuman, but that one hit different
>>
>>6094673
Teilhardchads saving us yet again.
Thanks for the run.

There's no way Janus sent us on this task without having some idea of the dangers, assuming that he didn't intentionally send Leigh in to make the siren active. At this point an irritating old man that gives us poison manages to be better company than the rest of his family solely because he doesn't send us on fetch quests or to death traps with no info.
>>
>>6095155
We should tell him that when we see him again. Being thanked a second time and for that reason might make him laugh to death
>>
>>6095176
Kalthos was prepared for many dangers to his life, but comedy was not one of them.
>>
>>6095155
We owe Ariel at least a fancy dinner.
>>
>>6095332
Imagine if the entire Tomoe family she hatrs thanks her at dinner for heroically saving Juno's life while she's baffled the entire time.
But realistically the dinner will be at the main Teilhard residence. Old man Davy's gonna freak when he finds out about the assimilating ancient flesh siren in an abyss pool under a great tree, who just randomly awoke and decided to mindfuck lure and consume the entire garrison of Albershot Lodge.
>>
>>6095332
She can have a coupon for one (1) deep-dicking.
>>
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The tree burns with a violence far in excess of the paltry amount of oil that you poured on it, as if the ancient wood had been yearning for a chance to blaze away. Heedless of the terrible waves of heat rolling off it, you sit just a short distance away from the burning tree and stare into the raging flames. Were the monster to emerge from the conflagration and attack, you would have no defence against it – you're too tired to fight, too tired to even move a muscle.

It's only when the trees collapses in on itself, burnt away to nothing but an empty shell, that you start to feel a faint strength creeping back into your limbs. The silence that descends is crushing, almost as oppressive as the monster's constant, insidious song.

“...How embarrassing,” Juno says eventually, her lips curling with contempt, “All my grand talk about how dangerous, how destructive, these THINGS are, and I'm the first one who falls victim to it.”

“Don't... blame yourself,” Ariel replies slowly, her voice low and weary, “You're an oracle. You're probably more sensitive to these things, or something like that.”

You never expected to hear HER trying to cheer up a Tomoe, but a lot of strange things have been happening to you lately.

“Oh yes, that would be convenient, wouldn't it?” Juno sneers, “A nice convenient excuse that waves away any suggestion of personal responsibility. Shall we say that it was all part of the natural order, too?”

“Save the self-pity for later,” you chide, painfully heaving yourself to your feet, “We're going back to the lodge.”

“The lodge?” Ariel groans, “Why?”

“Because it has a bed, that's why,” you snap, giving her a sharp glare.

“Leigh too,” Juno murmurs to herself.

“I'm not sure if I'd consider that a point in favour, but yes, Leigh too,” you sigh, “I think we all need a chance to rest and recover. The danger has passed, so one more day won't change anything. If you have any objections, you're welcome to walk home by yourself.”

Ariel gives the matter some serious consideration, or at least pretends to, before tilting her head. “Perhaps not,” she decides.

-

“How are we even going to explain this to Master Teilhard?” Ariel muses as you finally arrive back at the silent lodge, “I don't even know how to explain it to myself. That woman-”

“There never was a woman,” you interrupt, “It was that thing, that creature. It was just showing those men what they wanted to see. These men were all deeply faithful, and they saw a wounded woman – a figure from the Nicean Prophecies. And I saw... I saw Gratia.”

“Hm,” Ariel murmurs, nodding to herself before turning to Juno, “And you?”

“That's none of your business, actually,” Juno answers sharply.

“But... a woman?” the pale girl presses, undeterred by Juno's vicious glare, “I mean, I'm not-”

“Yes,” Juno says curtly, “A woman.”

[1/2]
>>
>>6099244

Leaving the two girls to seethe, you descend down to the basement to check on Leigh. The young man is lying so still in his cell when you arrive that you almost wonder if he's dead. It's only when you roll him over to look at his face that you see a tremor run through him. His eyes flutter open, rolling around in drunken, unfocused circles before finally settling on your face.

“What happened?” he murmurs as you remove his gag, “It's so... quiet.”

“No more singing, Leigh,” you answer grimly, “We saw to that.”

Leigh's eyes go wide, his mouth opening in a silent gasp of shock.

“Now let's be honest with each other,” you continue in a low tone, gently closing the cell door behind you, “What did you REALLY do here?”

In the silence that follows, Leigh's lips flap as he tries to find the words. “I just... moved a few rocks,” he says at last, his voice choked and strangled, “That's all I did, I... how could I have known-”

Before he can finish that sentence, you rise abruptly to your feet and stalk out of his cell, slamming the heavy door behind you. Had you stayed in that cell for a moment longer, you're not sure what you would have done.

-

When you wake up early that next morning, Juno is gone. Stumbling out of the lodge, you find one of the supply sheds, a rickety little hut filled with spare tools, open and ajar. Even before you've closed the door, you know where she's gone. Delaying just long enough for Ariel to drag herself out of bed, you set off for the remains of the great tree. There, you find Juno digging at the charred ground.

“Juno!” you shout, lunging forwards to grab her arm, “What are you doing?”

“There's something still down there,” she replies, giving you a determined scowl, “I won't leave the job half-finished.”

As Juno shakes off your grip and goes back to digging, you look at the arduous task before her. The whole mound seems to have collapsed with the death of the tree, as if its deep roots were the only thing holding it together. Beneath the top layer of soil and ashes, you can see jagged lumps of rock forming a craggy barrier.

“Something down there,” you repeat slowly, “Something alive?”

“That all depends on how you define “alive”, doesn't it?” Juno shoots back, “I'm not willing to leave it to chance.”

“Come on, this is too much work for one person. For two, even,” you argue, “Master Teilhard can send some of his men to help us.”

“He can't know about this!” the red-haired girl snarls, “Nobody can. We have to wipe out the last traces of that thing, then bury it. Bury it for good this time.”

>You're not being rational. We need help to clear this debris, like it or not
>If you're that certain, then fine. Just let me help you
>It's already buried, Juno. Let it stay that way
>Other
>>
>>6099245
>It’s already buried, let it stay that way
At least until your dad sends another guy to move some rocks. It’ll be someone else’s problem then.
>>
>>6099245
"Do we even have the tools to be able to kill it? Ariel shot the thing I don't know how many times, and it still tried to pursue us. We can't kill it alone because the moment we open the path to it the entire area will be bathed in that 'song' again. Then we're back to how we were before. Any ideas how to get out that situation once more, o esteemed oracle?"
>>
>>6099245
>“That's all I did, I... how could I have known-”
lmao never trust a Calamity

>Unless you have a pack of mining explosives, I don't think our guns will be able to bury those rocks for good.
>>
“And how, exactly, are you proposing to kill that thing?” you ask, gesturing down to the pile of earth and broken rocks, “Because I'd say we've tried just about everything already. Ariel put countless shots into it, and they barely slowed it down. We burned it, then crushed it under all this weight. If that wasn't enough, I'm struggling to see else we can do.”

“I'm willing to try anything,” Juno insists stubbornly, “I'm a very creative person, you know.”

“I'm sure you are. Only, once that creature is loose and starts singing its song once more, how much fight are you going to have left in you then?” you press, reaching out and taking hold of the shovel. Juno's grip tightens on it, but you can see her will wavering. “I hate to labour the point, oracle,” you add with a sharp edge to your tone, “But surely you must've seen that problem already?”

Juno's lips twist into a sneer, but you can see that the hot flush of anger is passing. A new realisation dawns, both of the possible consequences and of the magnitude of the task. Slowly, she loosens her grip on the shovel and allows you to take it from her hands.

“It's already buried,” you tell her gently, softening your tone now that the battle is won, “Let it stay that way.”

With a final sigh, Juno lets her shoulders sag as the wave of fatigue crashes over her. For a moment, it seems as if she might faint completely but, after taking a second to gather her strength, Juno straightens back up again. “I suppose it would be a lot of hard work for very little gain,” she decides in a haughty tone, “Someone else can do it, if they so desperately want to. We'll leave the damn thing buried.”

“What a good idea,” you remark, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, “Why didn't I think of that?”

-

Leigh says little as you lead him back to the carriage, his fearful eyes occasionally flicking across to Juno. She doesn't even deign to look at him, her gaze fixed straight ahead as you follow the path through the woods. Even though the creature's song has long since fallen silent, and there's no sign of anything else out of the ordinary, you don't quite allow yourself to relax until the carriage is close enough to touch.

“Where... are we going?” Leigh asks, breaking his long silence.

“Siegfried House,” Juno answers, before you can say anything, “I rather imagine that Master Teilhard will be very happy to have you as his guest.”

A low moan escapes the young man as he looks around him, searching about for any chance of an escape. But, with no miracle sweeping down to save him, he meekly accepts his fate.

“Good man,” you tell him, pushing him up into the carriage, “Nobody wants to make this any more difficult than it needs to be. I've already had more than enough hard work to last me a lifetime.”

“Weren't we supposed to be making a holiday of this?” Ariel asks ruefully.

[1]
>>
>>6099261
>“Weren't we supposed to be making a holiday of this?” Ariel asks ruefully.
We can take a break from running odd jobs later, we're not even halfway through the Lessons yet. The Martense not having any in the Iron Keep was a huge letdown but we did find out a lot from it
>>
>>6099244
>“But... a woman?” the pale girl presses, undeterred by Juno's vicious glare, “I mean, I'm not-”
>“Yes,” Juno says curtly, “A woman.”
Nice writing here. It doubles both as confirmation Juno is a raging lesbian for that mystery blonde girl with the curls, and also that Ariel is a guy and not a girl
>>
>>6099261

“We're going to have to get our stories straight,” Juno says softly as the carriage rumbles over the unpaved road, “I rather suspect that Master Teilhard will want us questioned separately when we return, and this time I'd rather not leave it to improvisation. It's not that I don't trust you, of course.”

“Really?” you remark, not even trying to hide your doubt.

“Well, not really,” she concedes, “But don't take it personally. It's hard to change the habit of a lifetime. But we're getting distracted now, aren't we?”

“We were supposed to be getting our stories straight,” you remind her, “I assume that you'd prefer not to tell Master Teilhard about that... creature. You're worried that if he knows about it, he might be tempted to try and dig it up too.”

Ariel shakes her head. “He wouldn't do something so foolish,” she insists, “If we explain how dangerous it is, he can make sure that it's properly sealed away – even if it means building a castle on top of it.”

“A particularly charming display of optimism,” Juno sneers, “Unfortunately, I suspect that you're the only one who believes that.”

“The problem is, if we try and pretend that this never happened, we need some way of explaining away the missing garrison,” you point out, “If we can't give Master Teilhard a convincing answer, he'll definitely feel the need to come here and start digging around. You're creating the exact same problem that you're trying to solve.”

“Just do what everyone else does and blame it on the Tomoe,” the red-haired girl suggests with a mocking shrug, “Agents of House Tomoe descended upon the lodge and kidnapped the men for some nefarious purpose. We can even say that HE led them there.”

Leigh pales as Juno points an accusing finger at him, excuses and pleas spluttering from his lips until you silence him with a gesture.

“That's a pretty weak excuse,” you tell her, frowning in disapproval.

“But he'll believe it nonetheless,” she replies cynically, “Because it fits perfectly into his view of the world. Trust me, I know his kind all too well.”

You'd say that you trust her, but it's hard to change the habit of a lifetime.

>I know it's hard for you to believe, but sometime honesty IS the best policy
>If you're sure that this excuse of yours will work, then we'll go with it
>I've got an idea of what to tell Master Teilhard... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6099276
>I know it's hard for you to believe, but sometime honesty IS the best policy
It's not that I want to lessen my guy Isambard's edge. It's more of an "After my experiences at the Iron Keep, I have less faith in building castles on top of ancient evils and expecting them not to be unearthed some vague time into the future." excuse. Yeah let's go with that
>>
>>6099276
>I've got an idea of what to tell Master Teilhard... (Write in)
>We tell them about the woman and the tree as they are. There's too much evidence to refute, and the journal is plenty credibility to the statement.
>But we had the brilliant idea to set fire to the tree as soon as we saw it. Judging from Sir Leigh's testimony, it might not have been enough, so planting some explosives is strongly advised to get rid of anything hiding in the roots.
>They don't have to know about the creature per se, but knowing that there's some hallucinations in play will at least make sure that if anyone dies, they know from what.
>>
>>6099278
I don't like covering up ancient evils with luxurious opulence or forbidding architecture. One of them almost bodyjacked one of my close associates and tried to force him into ravishing his deranged cousin with me in the room with them. That's not something I would be able to live down, especially seeing as I would not have much longer to live afterward.

>>6099280
Why not tell him about the ancient flesh siren that pulled and absorbed the entire lodge population?
Should we bring up how the heroic Ariel Teilhard resisted the illusions enough to fire at the beast to free us and help us escape?
>>
>>6099283
One, because it's a really hard thing to believe.

Two, because it will delay the final solution of "blow this thing up so we can go home and sleep in peace at night"
>>
>>6099276
>Tell the truth
>>
>>6099286
>really hard thing to believe
Can we simply
>take Teilhard dad to tree
>remove rock
>song plays
>put rock back
>"do you believe us now?"
>>
>>6099292
This is the second ancient horror Isambard has had to content with. Ariel has been there for both and she can vouch for us.
>>
>>6099292
I mean we can, but half the cast would say "this is totally not gonna end well"

and I'm not sure if Isambard can be assed to bother for that.
>>
>>6099276
>I know it's hard for you to believe, but sometime honesty IS the best policy
If we do lie, it should be easy to stop him from investigating considering this is the second time he lost contact with someone and still didn't think much of it to investigate. But in the end, it's not our problem.
>>
“I know it's hard for you to believe, Miss Tomoe, but sometimes honesty IS the best policy,” you decide, “If nothing else, there's too much evidence to refute it. Master Reinhold's journal alone would be enough to get anyone's suspicions up – and no, before you suggest it, we're not burning the book just to satisfy your desire for secrecy.”

“Why not?” Juno replies with a smirk, “Suddenly you have a problem with solving all your problems with fire?”

“I'm very specific about which of my problems can be set on fire, thank you very much,” you point out, giving her a scowl, “A fact which you should probably be thankful for.”

“What does he mean?” Leigh whispers to Ariel.

“Don't worry about it,” Ariel whispers back, “The adults are fighting, just leave them to it.”

Juno leans back in her seat and shrugs. “It doesn't really matter what I think,” she says casually, “I could tell Master Teilhard one thing, you could tell him another thing, and he'd believe you regardless. The privileges of being from a respectable family, I suppose.”

The idea of the Pales being a respectable family brings a bitter smile to your face. “As for your suggestion,” you continue, turning to Ariel, “I don't think there's a need to go that far. I'm not keen on the idea of hiding some ancient evil beneath an opulent castle, after everything that happened with the Iron Keep.”

“Well, I don't actually think he'd go that far,” Ariel replies with a weary smile, “But our family does own this land, so I'm sure we can come up with some way of keeping anyone else from stumbling across this place. It's already remote enough, that alone should be a big help in that regard. If these things want to fester in the forgotten corners of the world, let them – just so long as they STAY there.”

-

You arrive back at Siegfried House under a heavy cloud. Even the guards that greet you seem sullen and quiet, guiding you inside the sprawling estate with barely a handful of words. To your surprise, they make no attempt at separating Juno from the rest of you, and you're allowed to enter Master Teilhard's office as a group.

Master Teilhard gestures to a number of seats, giving Leigh a firm scowl. “It's bad news, then,” he begins, skipping any of the usual formalities.

“...Yes. Unfortunately so,” you reply, thrown off by the direct question, “The garrison has been lost. The lodge itself may no longer be safe.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Master Teilhard's fingers move to stroke the long scar on his cheek as he weighs your words. After what feels like a very long silence, he gestures for you to continue.

“Much of what I have to say may be hard to believe,” you warn, “But it's the truth – Ariel can confirm it, as the most reliable witness among us.”

“It's true,” Juno adds, her words causing you to glance around in surprise, “Not only that, but Miss Teilhard may very well have saved our lives.”

[1]
>>
>>6099310

“When we arrived at Albershot Lodge, it was deserted, abandoned,” you begin, “The garrison was nowhere to be seen. The only person we found was Master Leigh, who had been apprehended earlier and locked up in the basement. Leigh claimed, at the time, that a woman had also been brought to the lodge. In Master Reinhold's quarters, I found a journal which confirmed this. The journal also showed that the “woman” was having a disturbing influence on the men of the garrison.”

“There was something buried near the lodge, something very strange and ancient,” you continue, “This “woman” was nothing more than a projection of this creature, bait that it used to lure the garrison to their deaths. It almost did the same to us, if not for Ariel resisting the creature's influence. As it is, we managed to escape – we burned the creature, and buried it beneath a layer of rock. It's contained, but it may not be entirely deceased.”

When you put it like that, you really do sound insane. Master Teilhard considers your words for a long while, his eyes closed tight. He looks like a man suffering from a terrible headache. “This creature, this dangerous creature, has been under our feet for generations,” he says at last, “Yet NONE of our oracles knew anything of it. How could this be?”

“It was... is... a kind of being that exists outside of the natural order,” Juno answers, “And so, the Emanations can have no knowledge of it.”

“Perhaps, perhaps...” the old soldier murmurs, “I shall have to consult them about this, of course. For now, Master Pale, you said that the lodge is no longer safe.”

“Yes. Though the creature is buried deep, its influence may be able to spread if anyone disturbs the burial site,” you answer, “It may be best to seal the entire region off, prevent anyone from wandering in.”

Having said your piece, you fall silent and wait for Master Teilhard's answer. He says nothing for a moment, his finger rhythmically tapping against the desk. “Master Pale, Ariel,” he says at last, “Please excuse us for a moment.”

You hesitate, glancing aside at Juno and Leigh, then hastily nod and follow Ariel out of the office. She points to a low couch opposite the office door, and you both sit. “What do you think?” you murmur, “Going well so far?”

“Not bad,” Ariel replies, stifling a yawn, “Could use more about how great I was, though.”

“I'll be sure to emphasise that point,” you promise. Ariel nods, taking off her cap and running a hand through her wavy hair. Silence descends as you wait, the minutes stretching out as Ariel's breathes grow slower and deeper. Her body grows limp as sleep reaches out to claim her, her head dipping to rest lightly on your shoulder.

With a low sigh, you sit back to wait for Master Teilhard to finish his interrogation. You only hope that Juno isn't telling him anything too... inconvenient.

[2/3]
>>
>>6099320

Ariel jolts awake as the office door opens, flinching back away from you as she realises how she had been sleeping. Frantically brushing her hair back into place, she shoves her cap on just as Juno peers out from the office. She looks between the two of you, her face betraying exactly nothing. “You can come back now,” she says, although a hint of a smile flashes through her eyes as she adds, “Sorry for interrupting your nap.”

“Sorry,” Ariel whispers to you as you enter the office. You shake your head slightly, waving away her apology.

“Master Pale. I apologise for keeping you waiting for so long – I had many questions that I wanted to ask Master Leigh,” the old soldier begins, nodding to Leigh. The young man stares directly ahead, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his name was mentioned. “First order of business,” Master Teilhard continues, “I can't promise that I believe your story in its entirety, but I can see no reason why you would fabricate such a claim either.”

“I wouldn't do a thing like that,” you assure him, “Frankly, Master Teilhard, I'm not that imaginative.”

“I will send a party to investigate the lodge itself, for confirmation, but they will be under strict orders to disturb nothing,” he adds, “Assuming that everything matches your account, I will presume that you are truthful.”

“That's fair,” you reply, although the idea still leaves a hint of unease, “And if your party doesn't return at all, I hope that you'll also presume that I was telling the truth.”

Master Teilhard lets out a hard, humourless laugh. “Very well, but it shouldn't come to that,” he remarks, “Second of all is Master Leigh himself. I have decided to be merciful – I believe that he is as much of a victim as anyone else in this sorry state of affairs. As House Tomoe may wish repercussions upon him, I intend to take him under my protection. I'm sure we can find some use for him. What do you say?”

>It's your place to decide, Master Teilhard. Not mine
>I fear that you may be too willing to trust him. He is still a Tomoe agent
>It's an excellent idea. One day, he may need to testify against his former masters
>Other
>>
>>6099328
>An excellent idea. We may need his testimony someday
>>
>>6099328
>Frankly sir, the less you tell me about that the better. Master Tomoe will no doubt try to needle his fate out of me.
>>
“Keeping him around is a good idea. We may need him to testify against his former masters one day,” you decide, “Although the less you tell me, the better. There may come a day when Master Tomoe tries to wring the truth out of me. I can't tell him what I don't know.”

“That is true,” Master Teilhard concedes, “I had been considering sending Leigh to work under one of my associates, a man who shall now remain unnamed. He will be hard to find, I assure you.”

“Excellent,” you reply, slapping Leigh on the shoulder, “Hopefully they won't work you too hard. And no digging, perhaps.”

As Leigh lets out a nervous little laugh, you turn to leave. “Oh, Ariel?” Master Teilhard adds, “I realise that your parents may not have the chance, or the inclination, to tell you this, but... you've done the Teilhard family proud. You've done ME proud.”

“Y-yes sir!” Ariel yelps, her eyes widening with surprise. Lost for words, she turns and scurries from the office. Giving Master Teilhard a nod of thanks, you follow her out.


-

“You backed us up,” you tell Juno, as you walk out to the carriage with her, “I didn't think you would.”

“Well, as I said, it really would've been pointless to try and change Master Teilhard's mind,” she replies, waving your words away with a dismissive gesture, “I rarely enjoy wasting my time on a lost cause. I thought that if I agreed with you instead, it might sow some doubt in his mind. Alas, he wasn't to be swayed. You can't blame a girl for trying, though.”

“I can, actually,” you sigh, “Does it ever get tiring?”

“What?”

“Having to be so contrary all the time.”

Juno considers this for a moment. “Yes, actually,” she admits, “But I have a reputation to consider. Imagine if you were happy and cheerful all the time – people would look at you as if you had committed some great crime against your own history. It would be like... like a Teilhard that was skinny and weak. No offence, Miss Teilhard.”

“Some taken,” Ariel retorts, although there's a hint of a smile on her face. After Master Teilhard's words, it would take something truly horrendous to put her in a bad mood. “So, we're going back to your place now, I assume,” she adds, nodding to Juno, “I believe we're owed a reward... assuming your father holds up his end of the bargain.”

“He will,” she promises, “You may not believe it, but my father places great value in sticking to his word. It's just that he doesn't give his word very often.”

“I'm not sure if he actually gave me his word here,” you admit, “We certainly didn't sign a contract – not that I'd easily sign anything he put in front of me.”

“Clever,” Juno remarks, “I would say the exact same thing in your position.”

[1]
>>
>>6099367

It's late when the carriage finally arrives at Yomi, far too late for any kind of formal meeting with Master Tomoe. The ancient city looks particularly sinister by night, with the leering towers framed against a vast full moon. The moon looks different here, compared with at the Pale Estate – the colour is different, as if the Tomoe's corruption had even managed to stain the moon itself.

Rooms are arranged for the night, and Ariel quickly retires for some sleep. You linger a little longer in the hall, held in rapture by the moonlight. You don't hear Juno creeping up behind you, only glancing around when she taps you on the arm. “What do you think of our city?” she asks softly, looking out the window, “The moonlight changes it.”

“It's a secret that hides many secrets,” you muse, “So many that even the moonlight can't reveal them all.”

Juno laughs, delighted by your words. “I hated it so much as a child,” she admits, “I felt as if I was living within some vast decaying corpse. I thought that anywhere else in the world would be better than this... and then I left home. Then I realised that wherever I went, it was all just more of the same – just better at hiding the truth.”

“At times, I felt very much the same.”

“Ah, but it wasn't all bad,” Juno murmurs, “Because you weren't alone. However grim, however dire, life seemed, it was tolerable because you weren't alone.”

She's right, of course. The outside world never mattered when you were young – you had your own private world, a world shared with Gratia alone. The stories you told each other, the secrets you kept!

Juno had her secrets, you're sure, but did she have anyone to share them with?

“Get some rest,” Juno tells you, sensing the question before you have a chance to answer it, “You'll want to be up bright and early tomorrow, of course, and then go on your way.”

>It's a little early, but I'm going to pause here for today. I'll be continuing this tomorrow, maybe a short session again, but I've got time booked for a four day run next week
>Thank you for playing along today!
>>
>>6099385
Thanks for running!

Juno had some mysterious gold haired girl, didn't she?
>>
>>6099385
Good session. I wonder which noble family is next on the list. The Silvera in pursuit of the contact in the asylum?
>>
>>6099385
Thanks for running!

>>6099275
>also that Ariel is a guy and not a girl
Not so sure of that. It could easily have been "I mean, I'm not implying anything," or "I'm not judging," or even "I'm just saying, I wasn't affected, and it seems like everyone else who was affected was a man." I think Ariel's resistance proves, if anything, that she isn't into chicks.
>>
Contrary to your expectations, the guest rooms at Boleskine House are surprisingly plain and modest. There are no signs of the macabre art or ghoulish decorations that seem so common to the rest of the manor, just a comfortable bed and austere furnishings. Frankly, you're surprised that there were any guest rooms at all – you can't imagine that they get used very often.

Despite the thunder rumbling outside your window you sleep well, and without dreams. Washing and dressing, you brush back the slate grey curtain and peer out across the city. By the first light of day, you really understand how Juno could have come to hate her home city. Darkened by a shower of overnight rain, the buildings have an oily sheen that highlights every ugliness and deformity. Features that seemed mysterious and suggestive by moonlight are now stark and unlovely, while a malodorous air greets you when you open the window.

A knock at the door jolts you from your thoughts. Hastily closing the window, you open the door and wave Juno inside. She glances outside the window and gives you a sarcastic smile, as if sensing your thoughts. “We're going to have to get our stories straight,” she begins.

“Hang on,” you interrupt, “We've had this conversation already, haven't we?”

“We did things your way with Master Teilhard,” Juno explains, “But this time, we're doing things my way.”

You pause, studying her expression for any clue as to her intentions. She reveals nothing, save for a knowing smile. “That really depends on what “your way” involves, doesn't it?” you answer carefully, “I'm not going to just give you a blank cheque to say whatever you wish.”

“Father sent us to find out what happened to Leigh. I'm going to tell him that the Teilhard family have him, and will probably have him hanged,” she explains with a shrug, “That's it.”

“You don't think he might be curious about... everything else?”

“I'm sure he will,” Juno smirks, “Which is why I won't tell him a thing. As far as he needs to know, it was a perfectly normal forest with perfectly normal soldiers doing perfectly normal duties.”

“He won't believe that,” you point out, even though the thought brings a faint smile to your lips.

“Of course not. But he can't do anything about it,” the red-haired girl agrees smugly, “If your Teilhard friend secures the forest like he's supposed to, father won't be able to send any more people in to go digging around. He'll just have to write this off as a lost cause and move on to the next heinous scheme for you to foil.”

You don't think you'll ever understand this family. If anything, they seem to make your own family drama seem quaint and trivial by comparison.

You're not sure how to feel about that.

[1/2]
>>
>>6099892

“Master Tomoe will be with you in just a moment,” the black-garbed servant announces, “Please excuse the delay.”

“You guys go on ahead,” Ariel whispers as the servant withdraws, “I'll, uh, wait here. That guy creeps me out.”

“Understandable,” Juno replies smoothly, falling silent as the office door swings open. Taking that as your cue to enter, you cautiously proceed inside and take a seat.

Master Tomoe sits behind his desk, casually leaning back in his chair and giving you a lazy wave of greeting. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the sheet covering his desk, the objects hidden beneath reminding you of how this all began – with the last few dregs of your inheritance laid out before you. Swallowing back your sudden unease, you meet Master Tomoe's gaze and speak. “We have some information regarding Master Leigh,” you begin, “We believe that he was apprehended by House Teilhard and held on suspicion of being a Tomoe spy.”

“Which, as you know, typically leads to a swift execution,” Juno adds, her tone perfectly cold, “You really ought to remember that before sending so many hapless agents into their territory.”

“Ah, how I pity the Teilhard family hangman,” Master Tomoe sighs, “He must be the busiest man in all the kingdom. Well, no matter. Master Pale, you've held up your side of the bargain – it's time for me to do the same. I've picked a few objects from my collection. Please, take a look.”

Drawing back the sheet, Master Tomoe reveals a pair of small wooden boxes. Opening the first, he reveals a small ivory badge. “This belonged to a rather dogmatic fellow who paid us an unannounced visit. I believe he was trying to kill me, actually,” he remarks, smiling as if fond of the memory, “Fortunately Juno was home at the time, so I didn't have to get my own hands dirty.”

You glance aside at Juno, but she says nothing. Her mouth is tight, lips set in a hard line of disapproval.

“And this,” Master Tomoe continues, opening the second box to reveal a long dagger, “I got this from a band of rogue Galseans who had been harassing travellers around Yomi. Such a shame that we couldn't settle matters peacefully, but... well, you know how it is.”

“As I recall, you didn't make any attempt at settling matters peacefully,” Juno points out, “You hunted them down like wild beasts.”

“Only because I knew such men would never surrender,” he counters, “But what use if there in bringing up the past now? Have a look, Master Pale. See what appeals to you.”

>Serpent Hunter Badge [+1 Purity, +1 Prowess]
>Black Athame [+1 Prowess, +1 Calamity]
>Keep them. I'd rather have you owe me the favour
>Other
>>
>>6099893
>Black Athame
Calamitymaxxing
>>
>>6099893
>Black Athame [+1 Prowess, +1 Calamity]
The Galseans might see us as legit if they see us with this. Following Father's cred
>>
File: BlackAthame.png (504 KB, 1000x500)
504 KB
504 KB PNG
Examining both treasures carefully, you reach out towards the dagger before pausing, glancing up at Master Tomoe. He nods, offering the blade out to you with a courteous gesture. Picking it up and turning it over in your hands, you wonder just how old the blade might be – and, perhaps more importantly, how much bloodshed it might have seen.

“It suits you,” Master Tomoe remarks, “Unfortunately, I don't have a sword to match. But, that blade you have already seems to suit you well enough. Rushing water is a symbol of purification, you know. I wonder why your father chose to have THAT engraved on the blade.”

“I won't get the chance to ask him, will I?” you reply, placing the dagger back in its case, “Yes, this will suit me fine.”

“A pleasure doing business with you, Master Pale,” the older man murmurs, sliding the box towards you, “Oh, and one other thing. By chance, did you learn anything... else while searching for poor Master Leigh?”

You look up at Master Tomoe, at the dark gleam of his eyes. “No, nothing else,” you answer simply, “Was there something else we were supposed to find?”

There's no hiding the flash of irritation that passes through Master Tomoe's eyes, but it vanishes as soon as it arrives. “No, of course not,” he lies, “If there had been something else, I would have mentioned it wouldn't I?”

“Naturally,” Juno says, her words dripping with venom.

-

Juno is silent as you leave her father's office, allowing a deep scowl to creep into the blank mask of her face. “So,” you ask quietly, “Was that true?”

“Highly doubtful,” she replies with a sneer, “Was WHAT true?”

“That someone tried to assassinate your father,” you clarify, “That you stopped them.”

“Oh,” Juno grimaces, “Yes, actually. That part IS true. Here, look.” Pausing here, she glances down the corridor to see if there are any servants wandering by. Satisfied that the coast is clear, she moves aside the neck of her gown to reveal the top of her breast. The sight of her bare flesh causes the breath to catch in your throat, but your eyes are drawn to the long scar across her collarbone instead.

“This was a good few years back. I was just a girl really, recently returned from the Choir. And this man, this virtuous paladin, didn't hesitate to try and cut me down,” she murmurs, “He was a fool. He should have stopped to make sure that I was dead.”

These words hang in the air as you hear soft footsteps approaching from around the corner. Juno hastily puts her gown back in order before Ariel rounds the corning, giving you both a funny look. “Why do you two look so...” she pauses, thinking to herself, “So suspicious?”

“Well, it's only natural for ME to look suspicious,” Juno explains, “And I'm afraid that I must be rubbing off on poor Master Pale. I think they call that “guilt by association”, these days.”

[1]
>>
>>6099912

Together, the three of you take a slow wander through Boleskine House. You've got no particular direction in mind, and you doubt that Juno does either, but you follow her nonetheless. You pass through the portrait hall where you once saw the painting of Kalthos, or Ymir as he is known here. Looking at the poised, aristocratic faces gazing out at you from the picture frames, it's hard to imagine them wallowing in sin and corruption as much as the stories would claim. Quite naturally, the Tomoe have chosen to portray themselves as noble warriors, a courageous resistance against... what, exactly? The same society that has allowed them to exist?

“What do you plan on doing now?” Juno asks as you're leaving the portrait hall.

“I suppose we'll return to the estate before we do anything else. Even if my responsibilities are limited to checking the mail every now and then, I still need to do them. I'm still the head of the family, after all,” you explain with a sigh, “After that, it really depends. Follow up on some leads for the investigation, perhaps. Maybe check the Demesne again – I think I should be able to pass into the next layer now. Of course, I'll have to see if my oracle is back in action.”

“You won't have long to wait,” Juno says, her eyes losing their focus as the Emanations whisper into her mind, “No, not long at all. But I don't think there's any need to rush back either.”

“That's good, then,” Ariel remarks, “I wonder how Elle got on. Whatever she was doing, I can't imagine it was very fun. I imagine oracle training is very boring.”

“Absolutely so,” the red-haired girl recalls, “You have to spend a very long time alone with your thoughts. Most people can't handle that, and the people who find it easy tend not to have very many thoughts at all. You can't listen to the Emanations until you know yourself – I wonder if that's little Elspeth's problem.”

That makes sense. Introspection has always been deeply rooted in the Insight, and your family was once known for their oracles. Perhaps one day, you'll be known as such again.

“Well, either way,” Juno concludes with a dismissive gesture, “I suppose you'll be heading off soon. There isn't really anything else keeping you here, now is there?”

>It seems that way. Thank you for your help, Miss Tomoe, and farewell
>I'd like to see a little more of Yomi while we're here. Perhaps you could be our guide?
>There was something else... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6099921
I’d like to see a little more of Yomi before we leave. Perhaps you could be our guide?
How do the Tomoe live
>>
>>6099921
Here's the moment. If anyone wants to make a move on Juno, ya gotta shoot your shot.

>Would it be possible to visit your armory? Considering the amount of trouble you may or may not get into, I find it curious you don't carry more....esoteric arms. Or just bigger guns.
What kinda dakka do the Tomoe have
>>
>>6099921
>>I'd like to see a little more of Yomi while we're here. Perhaps you could be our guide?
>>
>>6099933
+1

>>6099921
>>
“I'd like to see a little more of Yomi while we're here,” you remark, “Perhaps you could be our guide?”

“See more of Yomi?” Juno raises a mocking eyebrow, feigning surprise, “Why would you want to do that?”

“I'm curious to see more of how the Tomoe live,” you explain, giving her a shrug, “Is that really so hard to understand?”

Juno laughs softly. “Yes, actually,” she replies, “But if you insist, I think I can find a little time in my exceedingly busy schedule. Where would you like to start?”

“You guys can go on without me,” Ariel says, “I'll, uh, I'll go back to the library or something. You don't keep any cursed books in there, right?”

“I expect they keep those locked away,” you tell the pale girl quietly, looking back to Juno, “Why don't we start with the rest of the manor? Do you have an armoury here? I'm curious about what kind of weapons your family uses.”

“On second thoughts, I might join you for a bit,” Ariel adds, speaking up before Juno even has a chance to answer.

-

The private arsenal of House Tomoe is divided up into two distinct sections. The first section is for the common folk, simple weapons to be passed out when the need arises – although you shudder to think what that need might be. Simple spears and military rifles, all older models, are lined up in great racks that cover both walls. You recognise the work of House Phalaris machines, but without the lost family's mark.

“We acquired some tooling from House Phalaris before the fall,” Juno explains, “The original tools have long since worn out, of course, but we were able to replicate the mechanism well enough. Not a perfect copy, but sufficient for our needs.”

Ariel takes out one of the rifles and aims down the sights. “This one shoots low,” she points out, “I wager most of the others are off in some way.”

“They're only handed out to peasants. So long as they can hit the broad side of a barn, they'll be good enough,” Juno remarks, taking the rifle from Ariel and putting it back on the racks, “These are boring. Shall we see something more interesting?”

By “more interesting”, Juno means the weapons of the aristocracy. A wild mix of swords and spears, all handmade with curious designs, each weapon seems to tell a story. You spot a number of heavy hunting spears, no doubt used by Master Tomoe himself, as well as Juno's golden spear sealed away within a glass case.

“I don't recognise the style,” Ariel remarks, peering through the glass, “Is it old?”

“Very,” Juno answers with a solemn nod, “Our family has held this spear for generations. One day, it will taste the blood of a god.”

A silence descends, broken only by Ariel's nervous attempt at a laugh.

“Or that's what the prophecies say,” Juno adds with a dismissive gesture, “But who listens to those silly old things anyway?”

[1]
>>
>>6099951

Leaving Ariel to study the arsenal for some more – which seems remarkably trusting, you will admit – you leave Boleskine House and set off for the city of Yomi itself. Before leaving, Juno dons a heavy black cloak and pulls the hood low over her face. Safely anonymous within the pool of black shadow, she seems to relax slightly – there's more of a lightness in her step, an effortless sense of life and motion.

“I should warn you, there's really not much to see here,” she says as you walk into the squalid streets, carefully avoiding the worst of the puddles, “But maybe it's not about the city, hmm?”

“I have no ulterior motives,” you state calmly, “None whatsoever.”

“Hm,” Juno murmurs, “Well, if you say that then I have no choice but to believe you.”

Even though she falls silent after this, you can tell that she's smiling. Not a smirk or a sneer, but a genuine smile. The smile lingers as you pause outside a slightly more conventional looking building, spotting familiar statues inside. “Is this a church?” you ask, peering through the ajar door, “It is! A real church to the Godhead!”

“You sound surprised,” Juno teases, pushing the door open and guiding you inside. You spot all the usual statues – the blank monolith representing the Godhead, and all the haughty figures representing the Emanations – as well as a new addition. The new statue shows a scheming, conniving figure, their gender ambiguous. A representation of Calamity, you assume, placed in the company of their fellow Emanations.

“I am surprised,” you admit after a moment, “I thought that if you had any churches at all, they'd be-”

“Pagan monstrosities where we sacrifice infants?” she suggests, “That's downstairs. We don't want to scare the tourists, now do we?”

She's joking, of course. You think.

-

Leading you upstairs, Juno takes you to a large open window looking out across the city. There's a good view of the sky here, the dark clouds flashing and flickering with lightning. “I came here a lot as a girl,” Juno muses, her gaze fixed on the sky, “We see omens in the lightning, just as your family sees them in the movement of the stars. There was an older woman who taught me to read them. I called her grandmother, though she wasn't really. I looked up my family tree later, when I got a little older, and she wasn't on it.”

“Family can be more than just blood,” you offer cautiously.

“Maybe,” Juno hesitates for a moment, “I still wonder what happened to her. One day, she just... stopped showing up. I tried asking father, but he claimed not to know anything about her. Though... I'm fairly sure that he was lying. He had no reason to have her killed, aside from petty spite. Perhaps that was all the reason he needed.”

[2/3]
>>
>>6099971
>“I have no ulterior motives,” you state calmly, “None whatsoever.”
I don't know about the anonymous hive-mind, bit I don't. I do think these two, Bard and Juno, make really good friends, but she isn't my waifu pick. Not even top three.
>>
>>6099971

“Sorry,” Juno says a moment later, sounding unusually nervous, “I don't... have a lot of people that I can talk to like this. Anyone, really.”

“Nobody?”

“Nobody,” she repeats with a nod, “I mentioned that I spent some time at the Choir, didn't I? It wasn't a very long time – not even a year, I'd guess. I entered under false pretences, but it wasn't long before they found me out. Actually, I think they knew from day one. They were just curious to see why I was there.”

“And... why were you there?” you ask, “It's hard to imagine your father sending you there with honest intentions.”

“I don't know. Sometimes he just... does these things. Maybe it was some tiny part of a vast scheme he was playing, is still playing to this day. Maybe he was just curious too,” Juno shrugs, “I hated it, of course. The lessons bored me, and the other girls avoided me like the plague – all except one. To my surprise, I found that we both had something in common. Her family expected great things from her, as did mine. It wasn't much, but it was enough.”

Clearly, this story isn't going to end in a long and fruitful friendship.

“When my true identity came to light – or rather, when they couldn't hide it any longer – I was thrown out of the Choir. Sent home in disgrace. I understand that the other girl left not long after. Forced out, really. Because of me,” she sneers, “Guilt by association, remember?”

Slowly, you nod. “And this girl-”

“Who shall remain nameless,” Juno interrupts.

“And this girl, who shall remain nameless,” you continue, “She was the one you saw at Albershot?”

“I hope you're not suggesting that there was anything scandalous going on,” Juno says carefully, her eyes narrowed to suspicious slits, “We were friends, yes, but that's all.”

That, in itself, is an answer of sorts. Perhaps Juno reads something in your expression, because she turns away with a sigh. “Whatever. I can't imagine you came out here just to listen to me complain about old times,” she mutters, “Did you?”

>You're putting a lot on my shoulders, Miss Tomoe. We barely know each other
>If you need someone to talk to, a friend, I'm willing to step up
>I want to get to know you better. I want a place in your life
>I... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6099988
>I owe you one. Whatever your motives, you've been a lot more helpful than you give yourself credit for. I can't say I trust you fully, as I'm sure you don't trust me, but if you ever need any help... Or if you need someone to vent about family drama, send me a message.

Essentially,
>If you need someone to talk to, a friend, I'm willing to step up
but more in-line with the sort of guarded, jaded, broody tsundere vibe Bard's been displaying with his other friends.
>>
>>6099988
>It wasn't my initial intention, but I don't mind how things turned out
>>
>>6099988
>>I want to get to know you better. I want a place in your life
>>
>>6099983
I agree with you

>>6099988
backing >>6099994
>>
“Well, it certainly wasn't my original intention, but I shan't complain about how it turned out,” you answer, leaning against the windowsill beside Juno, “Listen, I owe you one. Whatever your motives may be, you've been a lot more helpful than you give yourself credit for.”

“Oh yes, I've been very helpful,” Juno remarks, with a token attempt at scorn, “Nearly getting us all killed at Albershot was a great contribution to the team.”

“It got me one step closer to my father, my sister,” you point out, touching the dagger sheathed at your hip, “Whatever the cost might have been, I'd say it was worth it.”

For a moment it seems like Juno might try to argue the point some more, but then she falls silent and gives you a crooked nod of acceptance.

“My point is, while we may not fully trust one another – on a professional level – I still think we can work together,” you continue, “That means that if you need help, or you just need to unpack your family drama with someone, I'm just a message away. Don't feel the need to do everything by yourself.”

Juno says nothing for a while, her eyes fixed on your face for a long time – so long that you start to feel uncomfortable.

“Everyone else does the same,” you add with a sudden flippant gesture, “For some reason I'm expected to fix everyone's problems, so this is hardly any different. Really.”

“Oh, of course!” Juno agrees, a gleeful smirk creeping across her face, “You work so hard for the good of the kingdom, Master Pale. However would we survive without you?”

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” you remark, feeling the sombre mood lift. With a laugh, Juno pushes back from the window and starts off towards the stairs.

“We really ought to be getting back to the manor,” she decides, “Or else Ariel might start getting all sorts of wild ideas about what we've been getting up to. Even a Teilhard girl can only stare at rifles for so long before losing interest. Shall we go?”

-

Juno takes the scenic route, leading you back to Boleskine House through winding streets and across bustling markets. If it wasn't for the foreboding architecture surrounding you, you could barely tell the difference between Yomi and a city like Castaigne in your own lands. The people look normal, if a little sullen, and they lead normal, uneventful lives. If they notice that you're an outsider here, they don't show it at all. You even stop to do a little shopping, buying a bottle of ink-black wine to take home with you.

“It's been a long time since I just wandered the city streets like this,” Juno remarks as you're approaching Boleskine House, “It's rather less revolting than I remember, actually. I hope you appreciate all the effort that I went to, bringing you out here.”

“Oh, of course,” you reply, matching her insincere politeness, “Thank you for suffering through it. It must've been very tough for you.”

[1]
>>
QM says
>Moloch !!fqcSo3h+it7 (ID: nRXApNvO) 07/06/24(Sat)12:37:24 No.6052851
>Remember: don't trust redheads, don't trust women, and do NOT trust redheaded women
And what do we players do?
>tells the redhead family sucks and that we're there for her
I don't wanna waifu Juno either, but man she's got it rough as it is

>For some reason I'm expected to fix everyone's problems, so this is hardly any different.
The quest protagonist curse/syndrome at work...
>>
>>6100021

Ariel is dozing in the library when you return to Boleskine House. You sit with her for a while, waiting to see if she'll wake up by herself before you leave. If the worst came to the worst, you could just carry her out to the carriage – the waifish girl is hardly a burden. As you sit and wait, you find yourself thinking about Juno. About your relationship, whatever that may be.

A relationship formed from a mutual insincerity, a shared pain. What kind of relationship is that, really? You think about the moment she bared her breast to you, but that just sends your memory reaching even further back, back to... that unspeakable moment.

A low groan escapes from your lips, the noise causing Ariel to stir and raise her head. “That noise...” she murmurs, “Was that your stomach rumbling?”

“It must've been,” you reply quickly, pushing your memories back into the black, bottomless pit within your heart, “I suppose we should get some food for the road.”

“Good idea,” Ariel says with a yawn, “Maybe we can ask Master Tomoe to hunt a boar for us. I'm sure he'd be thrilled.”

“Let's... not.”

>It's early, but that feels like a good place to pause for today. I'll be doing some planning for this week, then back to writing on Friday
>Thanks for playing along today!
>>
>>6100036
Wait, what memory is that...? Hm.

Thanks for running, QM!
>>
>>6100036
Thanks for running!
I’m simping so hard for Juno that Professor Xavier is gonna let me into the X Men
>>
>>6100036
So more than a little suspicious that Juno's friend was Gratia

>>6100049
My guess is something that happened when they were breastfed by mom that is related to the whole twin thing.

Otherwise, the usual secret forbidden incest whatever.
>>
>>6100058
>Juno's friend was Gratia
Gratia isn't blonde, though. When we saw Gratia, she saw someone else.

>My guess is something that happened when they were breastfed by mom that is related to the whole twin thing. Otherwise, the usual secret forbidden incest whatever.
Twincest (or suspicions of such) could explain why dad separated us so aggressively. What IS mom's deal, though...?
>>
>>6100036
Thanks for running.
Arielchads have been eating good recently.
>Her body grows limp as sleep reaches out to claim her, her head dipping to rest lightly on your shoulder.
Even if she doesn't win the Isambardbowl, there'll always be this scene.
It's also satisfying to have pissed Janus off.

>>6100049
With how Bard is, it's probably a memory with Gratia.
>>
>>6100060
where did she say blonde again?
>>
>>6100412
She didn't say it, but we saw a flash of gold hair against THE CREATURE

>>6094670
>“You...” Juno murmurs, and just for a moment you see a strange double image – a mess of gold curls clashing with the straight silver hair.
>>
>>6100412

>>6094670
>“You...” Juno murmurs, and just for a moment you see a strange double image – a mess of gold curls clashing with the straight silver hair. Then the fake image is gone, and HER face returns. HER lips part to form the words to a terrible promise, and she leans closer, closer still, until.
>>
>>6100419
>>6100420
Oh, woops, didn't refresh after I found it.
>>
>>6100419
>>6100420
Interesting. Maybe Juno's mom? Or something related to the golden spear?
>>
>>6100424
She already clarified it was her friend from the oracle academy.

>>6099988
>Slowly, you nod. “And this girl-”
>“Who shall remain nameless,” Juno interrupts.
>“And this girl, who shall remain nameless,” you continue, “She was the one you saw at Albershot?”
>>
>>6100430
I could be barking up completely the wrong tree then.

Still, that's a lot of things to happen at the Choir. Is Elle the same age as Juno?

....hold on, it's not Elle is it?
>>
>>6100436
>is it?
Well, how would they know?
Conservation of Characters, would imply that is a possibility

I guess we need to talk to Elle about her formative years in the academy at some point.
>>
>>6100446
It can't be Elle, surely Juno's run into her already near the beginning of the quest
Plus her hair isn't curly
>>
>>6100436
>>6100446
I'm not surprised if a place for training prophetesses is filled with drama, irrespective of our main cast.

>>6100476
I agree, it would be weird Elle never mentioned, and none of her reactions when they've run into each other hinted (to me) at a preexisting relationship.
>>
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Turning Master Tomoe's dagger over in your hands, you watch as the first rays of sunlight rise up above the forest outside your window. Since returning from Albershot, you can't look at the forest in the same way. When you look into the dense, dark trees, you just wonder what kind of secrets they might be hiding – and there ARE secrets, you're sure of that. Why else would your father have forbidden you from delving into the forest?

The fact that his orders still have a hold over you causes a small coal of frustration to smoulder in your gut. He's dead and gone now, but he's still got a grip on you.

A faint bell chimes from down below, the tiny sound rousing you from your dark thoughts. Ever since returning to the estate, your mood has been low. Being so idle like this, even if it is to get some well-needed rest, doesn't sit well with you. You'll feel better once you get back in action, even if that means putting your life on the line once more.

“It's from Miss Legrasse,” Alex announces, holding up a flimsy telegram as you descend the stairs, “Barring any unexpected delays, she should arrive at the estate by tomorrow.”

“Excellent news,” you remark, “Any other messages?”

“Oh yes, there was one,” the older man nods, “A reply from Saint Samara's Hospital. That was-”

“The madhouse,” you interrupt, the word heavy with implications.

“...Yes, although I don't think they'd appreciate you using that term. They don't seem especially happy about it, but they admit that they have to authority to stop you from seeing Master Teufel,” Alex explains, “If you want to give him a visit, let me know. I can send them a message so they know to expect you.”

You consider it, but shake your head. “Not now,” you tell him, “I'd rather wait for Elle to get back before making any major moves,”

“It certainly won't hurt you to take a day off,” Alex suggests, giving you a concerned look. That's about as close as he's likely to get to giving you orders.

With a non-committal nod, you leave Alex to enjoy the rest of his morning and take a slow wander through the estate. Agnes has been hard at work while you've been away, cleaning up the worst of the dust and cobwebs. The place almost looks presentable now, if not for the countless empty rooms and general lack of furnishings.

You find Ariel in one such room, sitting on the floor with her disassembled rifle laid out before her. Unconcerned by the lack of furnishings, she cleans and polishes the weapon with careful, precise motions. “Oh, hey,” she begins, glancing briefly around at you, “Take a seat, make yourself at home.”

“Very funny,” you reply, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the wall, “You couldn't find anywhere more comfortable?”

“I didn't want to get oil or grime on your nice clean manor,” Ariel explains, gesturing with part of her rifle, “No rugs, no furniture, there's nothing here for me to ruin.”

[1/2]
>>
>>6103178

You sit for a while, silent save for the faint sounds of Ariel's brush scrubbing away. “Elle is likely to get back tomorrow,” you announce after a while, “It'll be back to work after that. Are you ready?”

“That all depends on what we're doing,” Ariel replies, peering down the rifle's barrel, “If we're going to be fighting more inhuman horrors from Outside, I'd say “no”. If we're going for a nice stroll around the lake, well, I think I could just about manage that.”

“The Demesne is high on my list of priorities. I think I should be able to go deeper now. But, of course, nothing is set in stone,” you muse, “Depending on what Elle has to say...”

“We might go chasing off on another wild adventure,” the pale girl says with a soft laugh, “At least we'll have a day off first. We could-”

A low knock at the door interrupts her, and Alex pokes his head in a moment later. “Ah, Isambard. I thought I heard your voice,” he begins, “We just got another message.”

“Another?” you raise an eyebrow, “We are popular today, aren't we?”

“Mm. You might be interested in this, actually. When your father passed, most of his assets were divided up amongst his creditors, yes? Well, one of them is offering to return one of Gideon's possessions to you,” Alex explains, “He's sending it to the postal office in Castaigne, it should probably have arrived by now.”

Something about this feels strange. “Does it say what kind of “possession” he's talking about?” you ask, “And why he's so generously offering to return it?”

“I suspect he hasn't been able to sell it, and he's given up. By returning it, he might hope to gain some minor favour in the future. As for the item itself...” Alex hesitates, his face growing a little pale as he rereads the message, “A piece of armour, formerly used overseas. I didn't realise...”

“What?”

Alex is silent for a moment. “Would you like to take a walk out to Castaigne with me? We could take a look at the armour, and decide what you want to do with it. Plus, it'll give us a chance to talk,” he hesitates again, glancing briefly across to Ariel, “Alone, I mean.”

“Don't mind me,” Ariel says with a shrug, “I can amuse myself while you're gone.”

Suddenly, your lazy day off is seeming very busy indeed.

>I wanted some time alone, maybe take a look into the forest
>Ariel and I were planning to take a walk by the lake
>I've got nothing planned. I can go to Castaigne with you
>I've got plans... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6103179
>I've got nothing planned. I can go to Castaigne with you
This is armor he used in his... colonial days, I take it? I'm very curious which creditor this is coming from.
>>
>>6103179
>I've got nothing planned. I can go to Castaigne with you
Obviously just a pretext for a private talk
>>
>>6103179
"formerly used" armor that can't sell. That's certainly a lot of yellow flags. Might be better off dismantling only the symbolic bits off. Might be something to give to the galseans.

>I've got nothing planned. I can go to Castaigne with you
>>
“When you say “overseas”, do you mean from his colonial work?” you ask carefully, glancing aside to Ariel. Judging by Alex's suggestion to talk alone, he's not keen to start sharing too much information outside the family. Still, he nods a confirmation to your first question. “Interesting,” you murmur, climbing to your feet, “Who is this creditor, exactly?”

“A man named Bayfield – which is not a name that I recognised,” Alex answers, “Not from your father's old social circle, such as it was. I suspect... ah.”

“Go ahead, speak freely,” you urge, gesturing for Alex to continue, “No need to spare my feelings.”

“I suspect that, towards the end, Gideon was borrowing money anywhere he could get it. I couldn't keep track of everyone that he was doing business, and he was careful to hide his tracks,” Alex sighs, “Still, judging by this letter, I'd guess that this Bayfield is a decent enough sort. He seems polite, and I doubt that an unsavoury character would reach out like this.”

Unless he had some kind of ulterior motive, which seems increasingly likely. “Well, I've got nothing planned,” you tell Alex, “I can come to Castaigne with you.”

“Excellent, excellent,” the older man nods, his expression a tainted mixture of relief and dread, “Shall we get a move on, then?”

That's what he says, but what he means is “shall we get this over with?”

-

Despite mentioning that he wished to talk, Alex is stubbornly silent as you set off towards Castaigne. Though the skies are a leaden grey above you, the day is uncommonly dry and calm. Good walking weather, at least. As the silence draws out, you wonder if you should say something first. You wonder if Alex would believe you, if you told him about Albershot. For some reason, you think he might.

“It's probably hard for you to imagine it,” Alex begins suddenly, clumsily spitting out the words, “How bad things were, back then. We had just come through a Lliogor migration, and the nation was in a terrible shape. The treasury was drained, and there was a lot of rebuilding work to be done. King Albrecht had only recently taken the throne, and he was gambling on rumours of mineral wealth in the southern colonies. Why he chose your father to lead the expedition, I still don't know. Why your father accepted the assignment... well, that's another impossible question.”

You hold your tongue, letting Alex say his piece. If you interrupt him now, give him an excuse to get distracted, he might never return to the subject.

“It was nasty work. Ugly work. There was a small camp already set up, and – fortunately for us – they had done the worst job for us,” he continues, “They had, ah, recruited a good number of native workers already. Young men mostly, strong and healthy but often sullen. Left to their own devices, they'd hardly do any work at all.”

[1]
>>
>>6103196

There's something obscene about the way Alex dances around the subject. It would be better, you think, if he just came out and said they were slaves.

“I don't know how he did it, but Gideon was better than anyone else at getting them working. He scared them, I suppose. Either way, the mines flourished under our watch. Soon, we were shipping silver back by the boatload,” Alex smiles a little, despite everything, “Even with the King taking most of it, we would all be rich men by the end of it.”

But not for very long, apparently. How fleeting wealth can be!

“Things settled into a kind of routine after a while. It wasn't pleasant, but we got used to it. The problem was... the natives had their rituals, some barbarian faith. Officially, we were supposed to be stamping it out, but we knew better. It gave them an outlet, something to comfort them. Take that away, they would have been uncontrollable,” he grimaces, “But Gideon was fascinated by it all. He'd sometimes sneak out to watch them, the natives, as they shrieked and danced around their bonfires. They believed...”

A pause.

“I'm no expert, and I don't want to be, but they believed in a world of petty gods and spirits. With the proper rites, men could draw their attention and make contact with these spirits,” Alex explains, “That's what got Gideon interested. He contrasted it, I suppose, with the Godhead. Here were gods that actually answered their prayers.”

“After a while, I started hearing rumours – rumours about a great white devil that joined the natives in their rituals, then led them,” another pause, “Rumours, Isambard. Just rumours.”

“Then what?” you prompt, as Alex lapses into silence once more.

Drawing in a deep breath, Alex takes a moment to answer. “Things got worse,” he says simply, “Gideon got harsher with the natives, setting impossible quotas and then punishing them when they failed. He'd have them lashed, and any who fought back would be beheaded. By the end, I scarcely recognised him. This wasn't the man I knew.”

You nod slowly, swallowing back a wave of nausea.

“Eventually word got back to the King about what we were doing. When the next supply ship came, it had orders for us to cease. Our job was done, they said, the treasury had been sufficiently fattened up,” Alex raises his hands in a vague gesture of futility, “It was all over. We started getting ready to leave, but the natives... when they realised that we were leaving, they flew into a frenzy. We were giving them back their freedom, but they fought to make us stay. It all happened so fast, the whole camp devolving into chaos. I saw natives tearing men apart with their bare hands. It was Gideon who rallied us all, gathering together the men and giving us his order – exterminate the brutes.”

[2/3]
>>
>>6103211
jesus, Gideon. wtf man.
>>
>>6103211

“We followed his order, of course. We followed it to the letter,” Alex murmurs, shuddering at the memory, “Even when their spirit was broken, and the attack was over, he had us hunt the last of the natives down. We shot them down like dogs, then burned the buildings. We erased every last trace of our presence, and then – only then – did we leave.”

“I still remember the look on your father's face as we sailed away from those damned shores. It was the look of a man waking up from a long sleep, a long and terrible nightmare. He looked at me and said something to me. I don't think I'll ever forget his words, or how calm he sounded. He said...” he swallows heavily, tugging at the tight collar of his uniform jacket, “He said “things got out of hand”. That's all.”

A soft, humourless laugh escapes you. Your father always had a talent for understatement.

“You have to understand, things weren't... normal,” Alex insists suddenly, “We were all far from home, surrounded by barbarism. The natives themselves were savage – before we came, they were constantly slaughtering each other in petty, pointless battles. Living in a place like that, it... it gets under your skin. Every day, the comforts of home seem a little further away. It's easy to... to forget yourself.”

“Alex,” you interrupt, holding up a hand to silence him, “Don't defend him.”

Alex falls into an obedient silence, looking away from you and glancing down the path towards Castaigne. You can well understand why he was avoiding this conversation for so long. Looking at him now, you wonder if he feels any better for finally letting the secret out. Does he feel a kind of relief, a sense of closure?

You're not sure if he does.

>Let's go. I don't think I want to talk about this any more
>What happened then? After you returned home, then what?
>Do you know anything more about these... rituals?
>I have so many questions right now... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6103219
>What happened then? After you returned home, then what?
Instantly put it behind them I bet

>“He said “things got out of hand”
One could say he almost lost his cool out there
>>
>>6103219
>Sounds like there's entirely too many gods who would be eager to kill him in strange and mythical circumstances.
>But fortunately or unfortunately, I don't think that was the case. Father was not the only one "getting out of hand", and if such things really called for judgement from the divine, there'd be others before him. Of equal status.

>Do you have any names for the gods they were trying to call?
>>
For a while, you just slowly walk on in silence. Now, you're the one who doesn't want to speak. Just hearing about your father's crimes has left you feeling tainted, unclear – the very blood in your veins poisoned by his legacy. It's not that you ever really saw him as a GOOD man, but you never imagined... this. Any of this.

“What happened then?” you ask at last, forcing yourself to speak, “After you all returned home, then what?”

“Nobody dared speak of it, of course, but it wasn't something that we could just forget about either. Most of us just... went our separate ways. I tried to stay in contact with Gideon for as long as possible, but in the end he pushed me away too. He dismissed all his servants, and spent his days holed up, completely alone, in the estate,” Alex shakes his head, “Dunblane lost himself in academia, Teufel vanished completely until surfacing in the hospital. It's always the same story – we isolated ourselves, doing whatever we could to move on, or we'd die.”

“But something changed,” you point out, “At some point, you got back in touch with my father.”

“Yes. I did,” he nods slowly, “I was told, ordered really, to go to the estate. When I did, I found him there – with two infant children.”

And this is where you enter the scene, as if he had simply found you and Gratia in a disused bedroom.

“It doesn't answer many questions, but I suppose some things make a little more sense now,” you murmur, an eerie calm in your voice, “I can imagine there are entirely too many gods and spirits who would have been eager to kill him after everything he did. Divine retribution would be a nice, easy answer. Yet, I don't think that's the case. Did any of them have names?”

“Them... who?”

“These gods – or spirits, if you prefer – that my father was trying to call up,” you explain, “Did any of them have names?”

“I don't actually know if your father was trying to...” Alex hesitates awkwardly, “As I said, these were only rumours about camp. I never actually saw-”

“Alex!” you snap, silencing the man in an instant.

“I don't... know if this was a name,” he answers slowly, reluctantly, “But after things got... bad. After the lashings, the executions, I sometimes heard the natives mumbling a word. Stryx, or Strix. Something like that. They weren't exactly writing it down.”

“Strix,” you repeat to yourself, getting a feel for the word. It certainly has an evil feeling to it. Just saying the word feels like a crime, as if you might be inviting some terrible fate down upon yourself. Yet also, there's a temptation to say it loud and clear.

“Isambard, I... I would prefer if you don't tell the others about this,” Alex adds, “I worry that they might... react poorly. Your father's crimes are not your crimes, of course, but-”

“Guilt by association,” you finish for him, “I'm quite familiar with the concept.”

“Quite so,” he says glumly.

[1]
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>>6103237

Arriving in Castaigne under a heavy cloud, you head straight for the postal office. After everything that Alex told you, you're not sure if you really want anything else from your father – especially not something from that nightmarish expedition. Still, you've come all this way. The least you can do is take a look at it. Alex talks quietly with the clerk as you listlessly pace from one end of the office to the other, the sound of your footsteps echoing through the empty building.

“He'll just need a moment to find it,” Alex says, looking back over your shoulder, “I'm going to check the social register while I'm here, see if I can find any trace of our Master Bayfield.”

“Go ahead,” you answer, watching as Alex moves to consult the social register – a weighty tome filled with a vast list of names, addresses and business details. It's a good place to start, unless Bayfield is an unusually private man.

“Here we are,” Alex announces, “Bayfield. Looks like a merchant, a dealer in handicrafts and other trinkets. I assume he buys them here, then sells them in the capital or the other big cities. If he did business here, that might explain how Gideon made his acquaintance. He seems innocent enough, I'd wager. Too boring to be involved in-”

Alex falls silent as the long-suffering clerk carries a large parcel up to the desk and deposits it down. Alex sends him away with a few coins, then tears off the brown paper wrapping to reveal a cuirass of gleaming silver. “Very impressive,” you admit, examining the burning art motif set in as decoration, “But... why? This doesn't look like armour to me. It might stop a glancing blow from a dagger, but not much else.”

“It's ceremonial. The Sacred Heart Society, a missionary group, helped fund the expedition. They gave us these as part of that,” Alex explains in a low whisper, “They thought we'd go and spread the good word, enlightening the poor savages, so we needed to make a good first impression.”

“I see,” you murmur, reaching out to touch the polished silver. Before your fingers actually brush against it though, you feel the corrosive sting of Calamity and draw back your hand. “So what do you think?” you ask, “What do you think we should do with it?”

“Get rid of it, frankly,” Alex answers, “I gave mine back to the Society. They seemed glad to get it back – probably to melt it down and turn it into a candlestick or something. I can't imagine they were very proud of their little project. We could pack it right back up now, send it to them today.”

That's certainly one idea, but the cuirass... it looks like it would fit you perfectly.

>You'll keep the cuirass for yourself [+1 Sovereignty, +1 Calamity]
>Send it away. You've got no use for such a thing
>>
>>6103248
>You'll keep the cuirass for yourself [+1 Sovereignty, +1 Calamity]
This cuirass...it was made for me
Also we have enough purity to offset the calamity, right? That's totally how it works?
>>
>>6103251
+1
Where's the fucking Ingenuity gains? We need more time with Jan for Solitude too. But Insight needs to be the highest for muh Pale nobility.
>>
OK. We either balance Calamity alongside all other Emanation scores, or we use Calamity to defy Calamity with our own will.
>>
>>6103248
>Use it as practice. You've managed to pulverize an item of Calamity before, maybe you can do something more artisanal to this piece.
The dagger was meant to cut spirits, right? Well, maybe we can test that. Worst case is we destroy a piece of junk.
>>
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“No, we'll keep it. I'll keep it,” you decide, softly shaking your head. Reaching out once more, you trace a finger down the burning heart emblazoned on the bright silver. Just for a moment, a fleeting fraction of a second, you see the metal stained with dark rivulets of blood. A blink later, and the image is gone once more. The metal is as bright as the light of the full moon.

“Isambard,” Alex warns, “I don't think-”

“I've made my decision, Alex,” you interrupt, “You said it yourself – my father's crimes are not my crimes. I won't have this piece destroyed just because you're getting squeamish.”

Alex studies you carefully, his eyes darkened with sadness, and you feel a sharp pang of regret for your words. As much as you want to apologise, though, you somehow can't form the words.

“Very well,” the older man decides, his face set in a grim mask, “But you're carrying it home, not me.”

-

You ponder your father's deeds as you walk home, the awkward weight of the cuirass preventing your thoughts from wandering very far at all. Your earlier revulsion has somewhat cooled, leaving behind more of a curiosity. When he shed blood and danced in orgiastic rituals, what did he see? What kind of being did he contact, and what did it reveal to him?

It could all have been primitive superstition, you take pains to remind yourself, the natives may not have been any better than the Godhead's faithful – both screaming prayers into a void with no hope of an answer.

But what if they didn't go unanswered?

Strix, Stryx, Strix, Stryx...

You wish you hadn't asked Alex for their name. It's going to be echoing through your mind all day now, and probably all night. You'll hear it in your dreams, assuming you sleep at all. Idly, you wonder if this is what going mad feels like.

Ariel is waiting for you when you return, sitting on the manor's front steps with the scope from her rifle. Slipping the scope back into her pocket, she leaps to her feet and gives you a big wave. “Wow, nice armour,” she remarks as you approach, “Looks heavy though.”

“It's not really, but it's awkward to carry,” you grunt, “Is that you offering to take it off me?”

“Absolutely not,” Ariel laughs, “But I'll get the door for you. That's helpful, right?”

“Close enough.”

Carrying the cuirass inside, you set it down in the hallway and dust off your chafed hands. It would have been easier to just wear the damn thing, but that would have meant stripping off in the middle of the postal office. You weren't quite that desperate. Alex murmurs an excuse and leave you alone with Ariel, her gaze following him out of the room.

“He's in a bad mood,” she notices, “Did you two have an argument or something?”

“Not exactly,” you answer vaguely, “Just a gentlemanly disagreement. You wouldn't really understand.”

“Clearly not,” Ariel remarks, one corner of her mouth twitching up in a smirk.

[1]
>>
>>6103274

Carrying the cuirass up to your bedroom, you set it down before lying back on your bed and letting out a low sigh. With little more than an awkward conversation and a trip to Castaigne, you've secured another step on your path towards finding Gratia. It should feel like a triumph, yet your heart remains hollow. Until you're face to face with her once more, there's nothing to celebrate.

You're not sure exactly when you fall asleep, or exactly how long you're sleeping for, but the sunlight outside your window is rapidly fading when you wake up. Blinking away your confusion, the sheer sense of disorientation, you rise from your bed and straighten up your uniform. It might not do for high society, but it's neat enough for now.

Leaving your bedroom, you listen carefully and hear the sound of voices downstairs – Alex and Ariel, no doubt talking over a late supper. Leaving them to it, you start to wander at random before realising that you're drifting towards the east wing of the estate – Gratia's wing, back when you were separated. Allowing your legs to guide you, you pass down the long corridor until you arrive at an unmarked bedroom – the name carefully scrubbed off the plaque screwed into the wood.

Even when you were together as children, you never entered Gratia's room. You would meet in your bedroom, or any number of the empty rooms littering the estate, but never hers. Even at a young age, you recognised that, as a girl, she had more need of secret places, and secret things, than you did. Fighting a terrible resistance, you reach out to the door handle and-

And you freeze, the faint sound of a carriage cutting through the silence. Drawing your hand back as if scalded, you turn and hurry down the main door just as the carriage pulls to a halt. The door opens, and King Albrecht's faithful shadow steps out. Offering his hand, Sakhalin then reaches up to help Elle disembark.

“Hello!” Elle calls out, giving you a big wave, “We just managed to catch the last train out. I hope we're not too early!”

“It doesn't look early to me,” you remark, looking up at the darkening sky, “But it's certainly better than being late.”

“Master Pale. Perhaps we could finish this conversation inside,” Sakhalin suggests, “I apologise for any inconvenience, but there are some matters I wished to discuss with you. If possible-”

“No, of course. Come in,” you assure him, immediately sensing his request, “I can't promise that they'll be up to King Albrecht's standards, but we have plenty of spare rooms.”

“Thank you, Master Pale. They will suffice,” the dark-skinned man replies, his voice as low and mournful as you remember, “I will have slept in far worse conditions, whatever your rooms are like.”

[2/3]
>>
>>6103280

“We'll have to catch up properly in the morning,” Elle tells you as you lead her inside, “There's, ah, there's a lot that we have to talk about.”

“Hopefully, some of it is good,” you remark.

“Some of it!” she insists, trying to put on a brave face. There's already a cup of tea waiting for her as you enter the dining room, and Elle gratefully snatches it up. Taking a deep sip, then sitting heavily down in the nearest seat, she lets out a soft sigh. “I really shouldn't be so tired, considering I've done nothing but travel all day,” she admits, “But these past few days have been... difficult.”

You smile at this, thinking of Albershot Lodge. However difficult her days have been, yours have been worse.

“Oh! I should give you this before I forget,” Elle says quickly, taking a small envelope from her handbag, “Choirmaster Moreau asked me to pass this on to you.”

Presumably, this isn't one of the mythical “good things” that you have to talk about. Opening the envelope and unfolding the thin sheet of paper, you start to read the neat handwriting.

“Master Pale,” the letter begins, “I hope your recent endeavours have been fruitful, but I shall not waste time on further pleasantries. I am writing to you for two reasons. First. I believe you were advised to avoid associating with House Tomoe, but I will repeat myself for your benefit. I would strongly warn against any further dealings with them – their path leads only to madness, disgrace and death.”

“Secondly,” it continues, “I wished to offer a word of advice regarding Miss Legrasse. Please do not misinterpret her affections – she is attracted to what you represent, not you yourself. I do not mean this as an insult, of course, but a fair warning.”

You stare at the letter for a long moment, fighting the urge to crumple it up into a ball and hurl it at the nearest wall. What you represent... how should you interpret that?

“Something wrong?” Elle asks, fighting a yawn.

>Forget about the letter. It's just a petty mind game. Not worth your time
>You need to get a second opinion about this. Maybe Ariel has an insight
>Perhaps it's best to be direct. Just ask Elle about the letter
>Other
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>>6103282
>Forget about the letter. It's just a petty mind game. Not worth your time
She's just jealous! Besides Juno's the bae anyway so it doesn't matter who Elle likes or doesn't like.
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>>6103282
>Forget about the letter. It's just a petty mind game. Not worth your time
Elle route is still my preference, sadly.
>>
>>6103282
>You need to get a second opinion about this. Maybe Ariel has an insight
Later. In private.
This little subplot will resplve whether Elle or Ariel is bestgirl.
>>
Looking up at Elle, you neatly fold the letter back up and return it to the envelope. “Nothing much,” you answer quickly, “Just a little warning against associating with the Tomoe. Again.”

“Oh, I see,” Elle murmurs, “It IS good advice, though.”

“And when have I ever listened to good advice?” you counter, giving her a feigned grin. Elle tries to match your smile, only for another yawn to interrupt her. “Really though, it's nothing important. Get a good night's sleep now, and we can talk more tomorrow,” you tell her, “We could even compare stories. You're not the only one who's been working hard, you know.”

“Isambard?” Elle asks as you're leaving, “Don't push yourself too hard, okay? If you push yourself too hard, that's when things get out of hand.”

You freeze in the doorway, your stomach clenching at the sound of your father's old words. “Don't worry,” you mutter, looking out into the corridor beyond, “I know my limits.”

-

Owing to your unplanned nap, you doubt that you'll sleep very much tonight. Instead, you read and reread the letter by the light of a gas lantern, trying to decipher Moreau's meaning. In the end, you decide that it's likely to be nothing more than a game – although you certainly don't find it very amusing. In fact, you'd much prefer it if Moreau just kept out of your business from now on.

Even though sleep might be elusive, you lie back in bed and close your eyes regardless. You can feel a headache brewing, and lying in the cool darkness might dull the pain a little. Even so, you can't quieten your thoughts – there are just too many wild fantasies rushing through your thoughts, from nightmarish visions of your father's dark acts to melancholy thoughts of the Demesne. Though you're lying safely in your bedroom, you still feel as if you were running through the labyrinth – or if the labyrinth was a part of yourself.

“Strix,” you murmur softly to yourself.

Somewhere outside your window, a night owl cries out.

>It's a little bit early, but I'm going to take a pause here for today. I'll be continuing this tomorrow, starting at the same approximate time
>Thank you for playing today!
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>>6103310
Thanks for running!

When do we succumb to the urge to perform dark pagan rituals?
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>>6103310
Thanks running running, QM!

>>6103336
Never, Godhead willing. We'll see.
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>>6103310
Thanks for running QM.

>>6103336
Never anon - we are not weak like our father.

>>6103286
Juno confirmed as best girl
>>
So I think we've hit the threshold to start feeling symptoms from Calamity, and I doubt that's going to go away.

I'm not quite sure how we're going to get ingenuity, since my best guess is to drag Isambard's reluctant ass to actually study all this industrial tech to make something himself.
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>>6103556
So he's going to betray the Pale principles to learn about the technology and manufacturing that took his family's artisan niche from them? And yeah we might as well endure the Calamity. If Juno gives Isambard a blowjob and swallows, does she absorb the Calamity that way too?
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>>6103556
It would seem that all the Ingenuity relics have gone to the same place as House Phalaris, the REDACTED
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>>6103607
Nah, but it'll work if he makes a baby, since babies ARE calamities.
>>
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Somehow, through skill and dedication, you manage to get some sleep that night. Waking with the sun's first light, you rise from your bed and start to dress with slow, unhurried movements. More than once, you catch yourself glancing aside to the silver cuirass sitting by your bed. With the sunlight flaring off the polished steel, you can well imagine the impact it might have on an uneducated native. A little flashy for your tastes, but it should fit under your uniform jacket easily enough.

You're halfway through buttoning up your shirt when a knock at your door rings out. You open the door, expecting to see Alex with a new message or some other trivial matter, but instead you see Elle waiting. She freezes, eyes dropping low to the sliver of bare flesh visible through your open shirt.

“I'm sorry, I'll come back later!” she yelps as she turns away, only to hesitate before turning back, “No, I can't. I'll lose my nerve if I don't say this now.”

“Well, come in and say your piece,” you tell her, stepping back and holding the door open, “Do you mind if I get dressed while we talk?”

“Um, yes. Please do,” Elle insists, her cheeks flushed a deep red, “I'm... worried. About you.”

Automatically, you glance down at the cuirass sitting by the wall. Saying nothing, you hurriedly finish buttoning up your shirt and look back to Elle. Finally, she's able to meet your eyes again.

“I had a dream about you,” she admits, wincing a little at her own words, “In my dream, you were walking into the web of a great spider. I don't think you realised how much danger you were really in. That spider, it... it thought that it was so clever, but deep down all it wanted to do was eat – to eat and eat until there was nothing left.”

“Now, are we talking about a dream,” you ask carefully, “Or a prophecy?”

“I think the line between them is finer than we think,” Elle answers, “But if it is a prophecy, I don't yet know what it means – what, or who, the “spider” really is.”

It might be easier, you think bitterly, to write up a list of all the people it couldn't be.

“You're putting yourself in danger, Isambard,” Elle says frankly, “I know how important this is to you, and I won't tell you to stop. I... don't have that right. My only involvement here is, well, is you. I mean, um, you and everyone else – I've made so many friends since this all started.”

“And a few enemies, maybe,” you remark.

“I try not to think about that, but-” she pauses, “Now I'm just getting distracted. What I meant to say is, I want you to be careful, very careful, about what you're doing – and why you're doing it.”

“I'll be careful,” you promise, before repeating, “I know my limits.”

“Good,” Elle replies with a soft smile, “You keep doing that, and I'll keep watching your back. If we do that, I'm sure that we'll make it through okay.”

[1/2]
>>
>>6103817

“So,” you ask as you walk downstairs with Elle, “How was it?”

“My, um, training?” Elle winces slightly, “I suppose it wasn't as bad as I had been expecting. I really needed to swallow my pride to go back to the Choir after... everything that happened.”

“I'm sure,” you pause, “What ACTUALLY happened?”

This time, Elle is the one who pauses. “It wasn't really any one single thing. Lots of little things, really. It might take too long to explain,” she says carefully, “I suppose I couldn't really stand all the rules – rules about how we were supposed to behave, rules about who we were supposed to associate with, so many petty, pointless rules... It reached a point where I really had no way of staying there. So, I left.”

“And then you came back.”

“Well, ah, yes. Then I came back,” Elle blushes, “But everyone was really quite nice about it. They didn't even mention, you know, the past.”

Sometimes, you know, it's better to let the past stay buried.

“It helped, I think,” she continues, “I feel a little more focused now. Actually, last night, I heard the Emanations again. They have a message for you. They said “beware the silver bird, but spare its life”. Have you got any idea what it might mean?”

“I haven't seen many silver birds lately,” you admit, “But I'll keep that in mind if I do.”

“Mm, please do. It must be important, whatever it means,” Elle tilts her head to the side, smiling again as she studies your face. Under her scrutiny, you have to fight the urge to look away. “You look different,” she murmurs eventually, “Older, somehow.”

“I suppose I am a few days older than the last time you saw me,” you point out, “I'd be very worried if I looked any younger.”

“Very funny,” Elle says, poking you in the chest before glancing up at a clock hanging in the hall, “Oh, I didn't realise it was so early. We'll have plenty of time before the others get up. Fancy some breakfast?”

-

Later, as the sound of eggs and sausage frying on the stove echoes throughout the silent manor, you sit back and wonder what the day might hold. It's been some time since you last saw Sakhalin, and you can't help but think he's here to deliver some bad news. He's just got that kind of demeanour.

“Eat up before it gets cold,” Elle says, placing a plate down before you. It's simple food, miles away from the kind of delicate meals you'd imagine her eating at the Choir, but exactly the kind of meal you were craving. Elle digs into her meal too, and for a while the only sounds are that of cutlery rattling.

“So...” you begin as you set the empty plate aside. Elle looks up, taking a sip of tea as she waits for you to continue.

>We should get a move on. I'm sure the others will be getting up soon
>Tell me more about the Choir. What was it like there?
>Ever heard of Albershot Lodge? I've got a fine story for you...
>Let's talk... (Write in)
>Other
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>>6103818
>Ever hear of Albershot lodge? I’ve got a crazy story for you…
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>>6103818
>silver bird
I think that might be Strix

>Let's rip the bandaid off. I did, in fact, meet with the Tomoe. It was definitely an unpleasant experience, all told, but not ALL bad. Did you ever meet Juno in the Choir? I'm still not sure if you're wary of the Tomoe or her specifically.
>>
>>6103831
+1

>>6103818
No unpleasant drama at inopportune moments, por favor.
>>
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“So, I've got a crazy story for you,” you begin, “Have you ever heard of Albershot Lodge?”

“I can't say that I have,” Elle replies after a moment's thought, “It sounds... nice?”

“I suppose it was, once. We visited there, but... well, I might as well say it straight,” you decide, pressing on with your story, “We were there with Juno. A little spot of Tomoe business that we got dragged into. But if it makes any difference to you, we didn't exactly help them. If anything, it worked out the complete opposite.”

Elle doesn't seem especially displeased to hear that you've been working with Juno, or even particularly surprised. “I think you're telling your story all out of order,” she points out delicately, “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

“Right. That's probably wise. We were sent to Albershot Lodge to look for a missing Tomoe agent, a young man named Leigh. The lodge was abandoned when we got there, save for Leigh himself locked up in the basement. We ended up staying the night, but the next morning we found that we couldn't leave,” you recall, finding some perverse pleasure in recounting your experiences, “Whenever we tried, some force caused us to turn back.”

“There was something buried near the lodge, buried deep under a great tree. It could make you see things, see exactly what you wanted to see,” you continue, “Like me, I saw Gratia.”

“What did Miss Tomoe see?” Elle asks, leaning forwards a little before drawing back, “No, excuse me. I shouldn't ask such things – not about such a private matter.”

“Really? You don't want to know?” you remark, raising an eyebrow, “Well, suit yourself. Whatever she saw, Ariel was able to break the illusion. She wasn't affected nearly as badly as either of us, and managed to shoot the monster. That bought us just enough time to get out, and then we burned it. The tree, the monster, all of it.”

Elle shudders a little as she considers your story. “To think such things could exist in this world!” she whispers, “Ugh...”

“You believe me, then?”

“Why wouldn't I?” she asks, looking you in the eye, “Or rather, why would you lie to me?”

Something about her simple, easy trust strikes you very deeply. “Can I ask you a question?” you ask, “The way you asked about Juno, before... did you know her, in the Choir? At first, I assumed you were just wary about the Tomoe family, but now I'm wondering if it's something about her in particular...”

Elle bites her lip nervously. “I... did meet her,” she admits eventually, “It feels like a very long time ago, of course. But yes, I suppose you could say that we were friends. Or rather, I thought we were friends. But then she left, or was thrown out, and we lost contact. I assumed she forgot all about me after the Choir.”

There's a history here, a painful one. For now, at least, you're content to leave it buried.

[1]
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>>6103846
Aw, so our Betty and Veronica (Cheryl Blossom?) really WERE best buddies. Sad... But makes harem end more plausible
>>
>>6103846

Elle seems relieved when you let the matter rest, and you say nothing more on the subject as the others come downstairs and start getting ready for breakfast. After a quick meal, Agnes takes the dirty dishes back through to the kitchen as Sakhalin leads you into a secluded parlour. Crowded together in the little room, you feel strangely conspiratorial. This is the kind of room well suited to whispered schemes and secrets.

“Thank you, Master Pale, for your hospitality,” Sakhalin begins, “But you will excuse me if I move swiftly to business. You may recall a certain matter of missing files, prophecies absent from the Choir archives.”

“I remember,” you reply, “My family's file was cleaned out.”

“It appears that the problem was worse than we first thought. Many families were affected, if to a lesser degree, not just yours. For example, Master Seidel,” Sakhalin says, nodding to Alex, “Forgive me, but your family is not illustrious, yet it was affected all the same.”

“Me?” Alex replies with a nervous laugh, “I never imagined that I'd have much of a file at all.”

“The records suggest there was only a single prophecy associated with your name, and that was among those lost. An example, of course. To illustrate the seriousness of the matter. Considering the scale of the problem, I raised it with the Choirmaster immediately,” the dark-skinned man explains, “Tell me, Master Pale, are you familiar with the Cacophony Affair?”

“A case of mass hysteria, caused by rumours of a group of evil oracles,” you recall, “We touched on it in one of our history classes back at Coral House.”

“As part of the Cacophony Affair, it seems that a great number of prophecies were removed from the archives when their original receivers came under suspicion. Some of them were destroyed by... excessively zealous investigators,” Sakhalin continues, “As such, not all of the prophecies could be returned when their authors were rehabilitated.”

Elle frowns in thought. Everyone does, actually. “That doesn't make sense,” Alex says slowly, “I remember being given that prophecy – it was AFTER the Cacophony Affair was over and done with. There has to be some mistake.”

“Is that so?” Sakhalin murmurs, taking out a small notepad and writing a few words.

“Thank you for telling us this, Sakhalin, but I have to ask,” you mention, “Why let us know?”

“You were the ones to bring this to our attention. I originally wished to tell you that we had found a satisfactory explanation, however...” he pauses, “This no longer seems to be the case. Choirmaster Moreau will have some more questions to answer.”

He'll be lucky if he can get any straight answers out of that old bird.

[2/3]
>>
>>6103866

“In either case, Master Seidel, thank you for providing this information,” Sakhalin says, making another note in his book, “In all likelihood, there will be a simple explanation for this. However, I dislike loose ends such as these. Further investigation will be required. While I am here, Master Pale, I would like to ask you for an update on your investigation into the Demesne.”

“Steady progress,” you answer, “I should be ready to descend further, into the third layer. There are some indications that my father reached the fourth layer, but went no further. At this pace, I should have an opportunity to visit the scene of the crime before too long.”

“I see. Excellent work, Master Pale,” the black man murmurs with a nod, “King Albrecht regrets that he does not have the opportunity to see you in person, but he has been greatly involved with resolving the Martense situation.”

Salvaging something from the remains, he means.

“If I might ask,” Sakhalin adds, “What are your next plans?”

>The Demesne. I don't want to delay any longer now that I'm ready to move deeper
>One of my father's associates is held in a House Silvera hospital. I plan on visiting him
>I'm still looking for further leads. If you hear anything, please let me know
>There were some other questions I had for you... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6103891
>One of my father's associates is held in a House Silvera hospital. I plan on visiting him
>I'm still looking for further leads. If you hear anything, please let me know
Aside from Teufel, we are out of leads now unless Davidian has someone else that suddenly went dark or we work with the Tomoe again. The Demesne isn't going anywhere, and considering what happened to our father and Dunblane, putting off seeing Teufel probably isn't going to end well.
>>
>>6103891
>Is it possible to inquire if, among the previous challengers of the Demense, there were any who held a balance of Attunements?
>>
>>6103916
+1, but also

>>6103891
>One of my father's associates is held in a House Silvera hospital. I plan on visiting him
>>
>>6103856
Gee Isambard Pale! How come the King lets you have TWO oracles as your wives?

>>6103891
Backing >>6103913 and >>6103916
>>
>>6103866
>This is the kind of room well suited to whispered schemes and secrets.
He would know. He did that plenty with Gratia in rooms like these
>>
>>6103913
What of the Galseans? Could they have further leads on Gideon's work and other ventures that might matter? Also when the fuck are we going to get the next Lesson? The Tomoe and Martense didn't have one for us. Could the Silvera asylum have one somewhere?
>>
>I'm sorry for the delay - I was feeling a little sick, so I went for a lie down. I'm back and writing now, looks like we're going to hospital next
>>
>>6103753
Which is more taboo in this society the quest takes place in? Brother-sister twincest within a noble house, or Pale+Tomoe houses entwining (with both Isambard and Juno sharing Elle together)?
>>
“One of my father's associates is being held in a House Silvera hospital,” you tell Sakhalin, “I planned on visiting him before, but now I think it may be best to do that sooner rather than later.”

That draws a few curious looks, and you find yourself regretting your words. Given everything that Alex told you about your father and his associates, you fear that Teufel might suffer a similar fate to poor Dunblane, but how could you explain that in a way that doesn't sound completely insane? You might end up in a cell next to Teufel if you keep this up.

“Well. I hope that you have a safe journey,” Sakhalin says, “The Silvera lands are quite beautiful, I'm told.”

“I might stay behind, if it's all the same with you,” Ariel adds quietly, “Hospitals are... not really my thing.”

You glance aside to her, but give her a nod. “You're a free woman, you can go wherever you choose,” you tell her, “If you want to stay here, that's fine. There's plenty of spare room, if you don't feel like travelling back to Siegfried House.”

The offer was made casually, with no greater weight devoted to it, but Ariel's eyes light up with a soft glow of gratitude. Smiling deeply, she bows her head in a short nod of confirmation.

“Though, unless Teufel is especially talkative, we're running out of leads to follow,” you continue after a moment, looking back to Sakhalin, “If you hear anything, or have any strange errands that might link back to my father, I would appreciate if you share them with us. I'm not above doing petty errands if it will take me closer to the truth.”

“Your willingness to turn your hand to a great many tasks has not gone unnoticed, Master Pale,” Sakhalin answers, with the faintest note of what might be humour, “I will mention this to King Albrecht. Should there be any jobs suitable to your particular set of skills, I will let you know. Was there anything else that I might be able to assist you with?”

“Perhaps. A question,” you mention, tapping a finger against your chin as you think, “Of all my predecessors, the other pioneers who have delved into the Demesne, which Lessons did they seek? Did they try to maintain a balance, or did they focus their efforts in one particular direction?”

Sakhalin thinks deeply on this, even paging back through his notebook. “When he learned that your father died within the Demesne, King Albrecht asked me to look into such matters. I cannot claim to be an expert, but I believe that most favoured a single Lesson – Purity,” he recalls, “The church has always placed a special importance on the Demesne. It could be that this is why the followers of Purity have been the majority.”

“However, I noted one exception,” Sakhalin adds after a moment, “One pioneer who favoured the Emanation of Ingenuity – Yulia, last head of House Phalaris.”

[1]
>>
>>6103945

This announcement is met with a curious silence. Any mention of the doomed and lost Phalaris is always prone to kill the conversation, but this time is especially bad. “I wasn't aware that House Phalaris had any interest in the Demesne,” Elle says eventually, “I always presumed that they scorned things like that. Factories and machines, the work of mankind, was the focus of their attention, not matters of the unknowable.”

“Yes, that was their norm. But Miss Phalaris, it seems, was the outlier. Given the fate of House Phalaris, their connection with the Demesne – frail and distant though it may be – has been mostly struck from the history books,” Sakhalin explains in a low voice, “But the same can be said for so many things related to the Phalaris.”

Another awkward pause, as you all nod and murmur something appropriately solemn.

“Right, well, I'd better sent a message off to the hospital,” Alex announces, clapping his hands together in an attempt to banish the low mood, “They don't like unexpected guests up there. Take it from someone who knows.”

“And I'll keep an eye on any incoming messages,” Ariel adds, “If anything looks promising, I'll see what else I can dig up.”

“Right then, that sounds like we've got a plan,” you decide, “Sakhalin, thank you. It was good seeing you again, but for now-”

“Of course, Master Pale,” the dark-skinned man interrupts gently, “You have a trip to prepare for.”

-

Not that there's much preparation that you need to do. Throwing a change of clothes and a few books into your bag, you glance back to the polished cuirass. After dithering for a moment, you quickly strip off your jacket and awkwardly don the lightweight armour. It doesn't hinder you much once it's on, and it vanishes completely once you pull your jacket back on over it. You shudder to imagine how your father felt wearing it in the sweltering southern climate, however.

“You're sure about this, then?” Elle asks quietly, looking up from her own satchel.

“I'm sure,” you reply, banishing all doubt and hesitation from your voice, “Gratia... I can't explain it, but I have faith that she's safe... for now. But I can't say the same about Master Teufel. He's locked up in a hospital, yes, but Master Dunblane was in a locked room too. Look at what happened to him.”

“I'd rather not think about that,” the oracle admits, “Not so soon after eating breakfast.”

“Exactly. I'd rather avoid another messy death if possible,” you pause, “Or, at the very least, make sure I hear what Teufel has to say before he dies.”

>Sorry for another early finish, but I'm pausing here – I need to do some forward planning before picking up tomorrow
>Thank you for reading!
>>
>>6103953
Thanks for running!
Super busy today so the early finish suits me perfectly
Sucks for everyone else though
>>
>>6103960
>Sucks for everyone else though
I was also busy, and really, Moloch updates pretty fast on days he runs, so we get a week's worth of /qst/ content in a couplr days, easy.
>>
It Might also be worth mentioning the recent letter from the Choirmaster to Sakhalin.

Since we're working on the King's behalf. We really shouldn't be being threatened and it's an indication that they actively hamstringing the investigation or at least trying to "shape" the outcome, or order of events.


It also serves as potentially yet more leverage to be applied to get them to stay out of our way, or at least forced to lean on the scales more carefully, since they've tipped their hand that they "are" interested in what we are doing, even if they won't actually help, even though it is well within their capabilities. And the Files not being found was far too obvious.
>>
>>6104330
so get an official statement from the king on how he feels about Calamity? I feel like that's not going to be an offhand remark after all the Calamitous things the crown has tacitly approved
>>
>>6104358
Its more so that we can gauge, though his actions the level of support / cover that he and / or his agents are willing to provide us, from the Church. He has already facilitated expedience with other related matters, and since we're on the hook for this its in his interest to at least protect his existing investment(s) into this investigation.

Our goal at least at this point is to recover Gratia from the demesne (She probably managed to get in there without detection, so it's not out of the question for things to be going on without the king's permission), as at least to an end to finding out what was going on with our father.

I'm fully expecting things to go sideways, we know the church has people that "could" reach Gratia, hell we even met one. Who is actually to say she is still in there and isn't in a dungeon being interrogated, and we're just cleaning up loose ends before "Hose Pale" is finally dealt with.
>>
>>6103817
>“I'll be careful,” you promise, before repeating, “I know my limits.”

We lie to Elle so easily, so effortlessly
>>
>>6104330
>We really shouldn't be being threatened and it's an indication that they actively hamstringing the investigation or at least trying to "shape" the outcome, or order of events.
That's a pretty uncharitable interpretation of the letter. Just from what's written I take away "These people who have a bad rep deserve it" and "Stop flirting with my apprentice". Plus it was written with Elle's return to the Choir, so rather than proving her interest it just shows she had a talk with Elle while she was back. I don't think it's enough for the King to take any action. We'll just look like we're crying wolf.
>>
>>6104473
>it's enough for the King to take any action.
Considering that evidence that they're doing shady things is mounting.

is it not useful to ensure that people that may need to make critical decisions on our behalf are aware of everything that is going on?

>We'll just look like we're crying wolf.
It at, very least helps build "insight", into their actions and characterizes their intent. Also it serves as one more element that could catch them out in the future should it become relevant after all. Information is power and we have no reason not to share with those in a position to better make use of it.
>>
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As Sakhalin is marching out to his carriage, you hurry after him and call his name. With a quick backwards glance to make sure that you're not overheard, you take out Moreau's letter and hold it out to the older man. “I'd like to get your opinion on this,” you explain, “Ah, just the first part. Ignore the second part of the letter, that's... not relevant.”

With a curious expression, Sakhalin takes the letter and slowly reads it. “It would appear, Master Pale, that Choirmaster Moreau is concerned about your recent conduct,” he remarks, “That is understandable, given her position.”

“Whatever her intentions may be, she's interfering with my investigation,” you complain, “It makes me wonder what else she might be interfering with.”

Sakhalin looks up at you. “The missing files?” he asks quietly.

“The Choir is her territory. If anyone had the authority to remove certain prophecies from the archives, it would be her,” you point out, “What I can't be certain of, though, is why.”

You both lapse into silence here. Whatever his thoughts on the subject, Sakhalin keeps them to himself for now.

“There was one other question I had,” you continue, “This is obviously a sensitive matter, so I'll need to be discrete, but... what is King Albrecht's position on Calamity?”

“Calamity is a force that undermines the safety and stability of our great nation,” Sakhalin answers automatically, with the tone of a man reciting a well rehearsed script, “It must be opposed wherever it-”

“No, not the official line,” you interrupt, “I mean, what he really believes.”

“That, Master Pale, is not something I should be discussing,” he says carefully, “However... it appears to me that when men cannot achieve something through fair means, they inevitably turn to foul ones. This is true for many men, from the lowest servant to the highest of kings.”

“Farewell, Master Pale,” Sakhalin adds, giving you a firm nod before climbing into his carriage.

-

Sakhalin wasn't mistaken when he said that the Silvera lands were beautiful. Adjacent to the Teilhard territories, the Silvera lands are somewhat similar in character but with a slightly rougher cast to them – ridges of rough stone thrust up through the grasslands, while craggy cliffs loom up on the horizon. If the Teilhard family are vigilant masters of their land, the Silvera family have allowed it to grow wild and untamed – trusting, you presume, that it will flourish according to the natural order.

Off in the distance, you can hear the faint crash of the ocean waves smashing against the shore. There's a cold edge to the wind, but the weather overall is pleasant enough. It's calm, peaceful, the ideal sort of place for a hospital specialising in nervous disorders.

“I haven't been back here in a while,” Elle murmurs, leaning her head out the carriage window, “It hasn't changed a bit.”

[1/3]
>>
>>6104525

“Where is your home, anyway?” you ask, glancing out the window, “I haven't seen many buildings around.”

“I don't think we're likely to come very close,” the oracle replies, taking a small map out of her handbag, “Saint Samara's Hospital, that's where we're headed, right? It's further up to the north-east, by the coastline. My home was in Petrichor, the main city here. A little manor on the outskirts, very quaint and modest.”

“Of course. A modest manor in the capital city.”

“Isambard, are you making fun of me?” Elle asks, raising an eyebrow, “It IS modest, by our standards. I would say the whole manor would fit into just the central building of your shabby little estate.”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say that you just struck a nerve. “Well, consider me told,” you remark, “What's it like?”

“Petrichor? It's fine. It's nice,” she pauses, thinking for a moment, “It's actually sort of boring, to be honest. Even before I left for the Choir, I'd spend most of the day studying. The rest of the time... well, each morning I'd sit for almost an hour and make myself presentable. I'd curl my hair, wash my face, clean my fingernails... can you imagine the life I led, when I could spend so much time on things like that?”

“How terrible!” you laugh, “I'll never complain about my own childhood again.”

“Now that's a lie, and we both know it.”

-

“Welcome to Saint Samara's Hospital. Master Pale, yes?” the young doctor asks, before turning to Elle, “And you are?”

“My assistant, Miss Legrasse,” you answer for her.

“Legrasse?” the doctor repeats, a curious light coming into her eyes.

“No relation,” Elle quickly lies, shaking her head.

The doctor looks down at her clipboard and sighs. “I wasn't notified that you'd be bringing an assistant,” she complains, “Well, I suppose it doesn't matter too much. Doctor Darwin, by the way. You came a little too early, actually. Master Teufel will still be sleeping.”

“Can't you... wake him?” you suggest delicately.

“We'd prefer not to. He doesn't like it when his routine is disturbed – yes, we could wake him now, but I doubt he'd be very cooperative,” Darwin counters, “Come. Let me show you some of what we do here while we wait. Sign your name in the logbook, please, and then we can begin.”

With an enticing sway to her hips, Doctor Darwin leads you into the hospital. The whole building is coloured a dull white, with large windows allowing the morning sun to flood in. While it mostly looks modern, you occasionally see hints of a much older origin. A few white-garbed doctors move past you as you walk, but you don't see any other patients. Probably still locked up in their padded cells, you think to yourself with a grim smile.

[2/3]
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>>6104526

“This is a lovely building,” Elle ventures as you walk through the main hallway. In particular, her gaze is drawn to a large painting hanging on the wall – an image of the wounded woman peering out from behind a large tree, one hand reaching down towards the ground. From where you stand, you could easily reach up to touch the hand – indeed, you can see a few faint marks on the painting, as if some others have touched the hand for luck.

“We've had significant renovations carried out, but the building is a Drummond original,” Doctor Darwin explains, “I'm especially fond of the main gallery. It's just down here.”

“Drummond...” Elle murmurs to you, “I've heard that name before somewhere. I'm sure of it.”

You shake your head and shrug as Doctor Darwin opens a large door and gestures inside. The gallery is a large hall with especially large windows, a handful of easels scattered throughout. A few people wearing white smocks – patients, you assume – stand at the easels drawing with blunt sticks of charcoal.

“I believe very strongly in the therapeutic powers of art,” Doctor Darwin explains, “It gives our patients a safe outlet for their emotions, whilst also keeping them calm and occupied.”

“No artistic talent required, I see,” you remark, looking at one of the childish scribbles.

“Isambard!” Elle hisses, slapping you lightly on the arm.

“You're correct, Master Pale. We're not trying to make masterpieces here. The process is more important than the end result,” the doctor replies, taking out her pocket watch, “Hm, I think we should be able to see Master Teufel now. Shall we? If you have any other questions, I can answer them on the way.”

>No questions. Lead the way, please
>Has anyone else tried to visit Teufel?
>How did Teufel arrive here at the hospital?
>I did have some questions... (Write in)
>Other
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>>6104527
>How did Teufel arrive here at the hospital?
There had to be an origin to this. He was somewhere else before this and after his return from the colonies. Alex implied a long time passed after the group parted ways.
>>
>>6104527
>Did Master Teufel paint anything?
>Did he ever mention my father? I rather hope he won't react just from seeing my face.

So we're wearing the silver armor. I wonder if that'll bait whatever is hunting them to Isambard rather than Teufel.

>Doublecheck a route to run if you suddenly get attacked by an eldritch monster and need somewhere that isn't terrible to fight in.
>>
>>6104529
Good writeins here, +1 this too
>>
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“How did Teufel arrive here at the hospital?” you ask as you follow Doctor Darwin back through the hospital, “We lost contact with him for quite some time, you see, and now we're trying to figure out what happened to him.”

“Hm. Well, we've done a little bit of digging ourselves. In order to properly treat his ailments, we needed to understand them, you see,” the doctor replies, “But there are still a great many missing details. We believe that Master Teufel was living at a small community far to the north. It had a very strange name, what was it... Ah, Ivory Shoulder. That was it.”

“Ivory Shoulder,” you repeat, glancing aside to Elle. She shrugs, but notes the name down regardless.

“Mm, yes. It doesn't seem to exist any more – razed to the ground. Master Teufel was found somewhat to the south of the community, wandering through the countryside in a state of significant confusion. He was behaving violently when some concerned locals managed to subdue him,” Darwin continues, “We're really very lucky that they spared his life and brought him here instead. He never talked very much about what happened, but...”

“But it was probably violent,” you finish for her. Darwin nods, giving you a sympathetic smile. “I see...” you continue, “I wanted to ask, did you try that art therapy with Teufel?”

“We tried, but it wasn't successful. He sketched out some things – I think they were supposed to be birds – but then he had a nervous fit. We had to restrain him, and... well, we haven't tried ever since then,” she sighs, “I suppose we might be able to give it another shot now, but nobody really wants to risk it. He's been quiet, peaceful. We don't want to change that.”

Quiet, peaceful – that's quite the change from the violent madman he was when he was brought in. “Did he ever mention the name Gideon Pale?” you ask next, “That's my father. I'm rather concerned that he might react poorly if I bring him up. Even seeing my face might be trouble.”

Darwin taps a pen against her lips for a moment. “I don't recall him ever saying the name “Gideon”, but for a time he did talk about a “great pale devil”. He would wake up in the middle of the night, claiming that it was outside his window, dancing in the moonlight. He would get quite worked up,” she shakes her head, “Truth be told, Master Pale, I can't predict how he'll react. Try not to push him too hard. If he starts getting agitated, or he seems distressed, please give him some space.”

“Of course,” you assure her, checking behind you as she leads you towards Teufel's room. It's at the end of a long corridor, not far from the main entrance. Should you need to leave in a hurry, it's a straight sprint towards the front doors.

It never hurts to check.

[1]
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>>6104542
>I think they were supposed to be birds
oh boy
>>
>>6104542

Doctor Darwin pauses outside an anonymous white door, knocking gently before opening the door a crack to peer through. A moment later, she opens it wider and gestures for you to enter. “I'll be down the hall,” she promises, “Come and find me if anything happens.”

You nod, holding your tongue until the door clicks shut behind you. The room is far from what you expected – if you didn't know this was a hospital, you could almost have mistaken it for a particularly austere hotel room. It's stark white, like the rest of the hospital, with large windows. Those alone make you wonder – Teufel can't be much of an escape risk if they left him in a cell with such an easy way of breaking free.

The man himself, Anders Teufel, sits upright on his bed and looks in your direction with a vague, unfocused stare. He looks younger than you expected, his face strangely slack and free from lines.

“Anders?” you begin quietly, sitting in one of the chairs beside his bed, “Hello Anders. Do you know who I am?”

He doesn't reply. His eyes don't even move towards you when you speak. He just carries on staring into space, the blank look on his face masking whatever lies within. You're about to try again when Elle starts humming an old military marching tune. This finally causes him to slowly look around, a slight hint of a smile forming on his face.

“How did you do that?” you whisper to Elle.

“He was a soldier once,” she replies, her voice as dreamy and distant as Anders' blank stare, “When the final order came, he killed more than any other man.”

You shudder, but Anders doesn't seem to notice her words. “Hello again,” he says in a toneless voice.

“Again?” you repeat, “I believe this is the first time we've met.”

Another long pause. You can already tell that this is going to be a long conversation. “Oh yes. Silly me,” Anders answers eventually, “I thought you were the girl.”

“Which... girl?”

“The girl with the bird,” he replies, his expression shifting to the faintest ghost of a frown, “I don't like birds.”

“This girl, then. Did she look a lot like me?” you ask, trying to keep your excitement in check, “Look at me, Anders. Did the girl look like me?”

“Isambard, go easy on him,” Elle whispers, tugging nervously at your sleeve. You shake off her grip, but calm yourself.

“...I think so,” Anders answers at last, “She... asked me a lot of questions. I don't always remember things, but she made me remember. I wanted her to leave, so I told her everything.”

Then he lapses back into silence. With a grimace of frustration, you glance aside to Elle. She just shrugs.

>Keep quiet, see if Anders will talk on his own
>Press for more information. You need him to talk
>Try the name “Strix”, see how he reacts
>Maybe he can answer a few questions... (Write in)
>Other
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>>6104578
>Press for more information
If he wants us to leave he should also tell us everything, right?
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>>6104580
+1
>>
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“Do you want us to leave too, Anders?” you ask, leaning closer to the madman, “We can leave right now if you want. All you have to do is tell me everything you told the girl.”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Anders asks in response, sounding mildly curious at best.

That... wasn't the response you were hoping for. Perhaps it wasn't the girl he wanted to get rid of, but the “bird” he claimed was with her. You're still trying to figure out what he might have meant by that. Ariel? Except, you can't imagine a possible scenario where she'd be able to come out here with only her hunting hawk – now dearly departed – for company.

It occurs to you, then, that you're trying to seek rational answers to a madman's words.

“You want me to leave, Anders, because I could throw open those windows and let in all kinds of birds,” you threaten, gesturing vaguely towards the large windows, “You don't want me to do that, do you?”

At first, Anders doesn't seem to understand what you're saying. It takes a very long time for your words to sink into the core of his being, a look of dismay gradually creeping into his face. “But I don't know,” he whines, “I don't remember, I don't WANT to remember.”

“Try to remember,” you urge, rising to your feet and looking towards the remember, “Try, Anders.”

“She asked about... the expedition,” Anders answers, screwing his eyes shut, “She wanted to know what HE did.”

“He?”

“That white devil,” he whispers, trembling on his bed. Elle reaches towards to place a hand on his shoulder for comfort, but you curtly shake your head. “She said... she said that something was coming,” he continues, “The white devil called out, and there was an answer. But it wasn't the answer he was expecting. He invited them in, and she wanted to cast them out.”

“We did... terrible things,” Anders mumbles, looking down at his hands as if picturing them stained with blood, “We cut them down like beasts, shot them like wild dogs. Blood and terror, they could smell the blood and terror. It's what feeds them, nourishes them...”

“What are you talking about?” you press, dropping back down into your seat and leaning forwards until your face is almost touching his, “What ARE they?”

But Anders flinches back from you with a scream. “The devil, the white devil!” he wails, his voice echoing through the room, “The great white devil!”

He's still wailing when the cell door flies open, and a burly guard pulls you back from his bed. Darwin brushes past, pausing only to cast a look of disgust in your direction before sinking a syringe into Anders' neck. His struggles ease, and his cries fade to soft whimpers as the medication takes effect. When she's happy that he's been fully pacified, Darwin straightens up and scowls at you.

“Outside, now,” she orders, “That was not a request, Master Pale.”

[1]
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>>6104610

“You shouldn't have intervened,” you complain as Darwin leads you into her office, “I wasn't in any danger.”

“It wasn't you that I was worried about,” Darwin replies sharply, “Tell me, Master Pale. Do you enjoy baiting nervous patients?”

“I don't enjoy it, no. But I need to know what happened to him,” you point out, “He said that a girl visited him. A girl with a bird, he said.”

“Master Teufel's delusions have consistently involved birds, yes. But, as far as I'm aware, he's not had any other visitors. As his master, Gideon Pale was the only one authorised to visit Teufel – until, of course, his passing,” the doctor sits down behind her desk and lets out a heavy sigh, “What are you hoping to find here, Master Pale? Just what are you expecting from him?”

That is not an easy question for you to answer. As you're trying to pick the correct words, the voltaic lights overhead flicker for a moment. You glance up in alarm, but Darwin dismisses the flicker with an indifferent wave.

“Ignore it. The generator here is less than perfect – a crude copy of a Phalaris original,” she insists, “Now answer the question.”

“I believe that Anders was involved in some events that happened overseas, events involving my father and several other men. These events would have happened more than twenty years ago, but their consequences are only just starting to be felt. My father is dead, along with one of his associates,” you explain, idly wondering what Darwin is about to diagnose you with, “That community that Anders was staying at. You said it was razed, yes?”

“That's correct,” Darwin confirms, taking your wild claims in her stride, “We sent someone out to investigate after Teufel arrived here, just in case anyone else needed assistance, but there was nothing left. The settlement had been burned, and there were no signs of life.”

“Were there any signs of fighting, violence?”

“I can't say. Our man didn't investigate that closely. We reported it to the proper authorities, but I don't know if there was ever an official investigation,” the doctor shakes her head, “Are you suggesting that this community was destroyed because of these... events?”

“I don't know. I was hoping that Anders would be able to tell us that,” you sigh, slumping back in your chair, “But that seems unlikely now, doesn't it?”

“Excuse me, Doctor Darwin. I have a... slightly sensitive question,” Elle says, “I don't know how to word this tactfully, so I'll just, um, spit it out. What have you... done... to Master Teufel.”

For a moment, you see a glint of coldness in Darwin's eyes – a cool, clinical detachment. “At the patient's own request, we performed a prefrontal lobotomy in the hopes of alleviating some of his more severe symptoms,” she answers, “Barring some of the expected side-effects, the procedure was a complete success.”

[2/3]
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>>6104614
Damn medieval/early-industrial mental health stupidity. Pale should give this Darwin bitch a real lobotomy with the business end of his sword
>>
>>6104614
Honestly, that might've saved his life.

I'm concerned where the rest of his brain went though. Because that might be the trinket we're getting out of this.
>>
>>6104614
>>6104616
I’m surprised we didn’t notice any surgical scars, they might be further along than we think
>>
>>6104614

You're not quite sure what she just said, but you know that you don't like it. “Forgive me, Doctor, but I'm something of a layman,” you admit, “You did what exactly to him?”

“We made a small incision in the brain, cutting off certain regions that were causing his violent outbursts,” Darwin explains, taking a tool out of her desk and showing it to you – a very long, very thin spike made from gleaming steel. “It's quite safe, of course. We go in here, through the eye socket,” she continues, tapping the corner of her eye, “Done correctly, it barely leaves a scar. It helped him, Master Pale.”

They cut up his brain. They cut up his BRAIN.

“Please understand, Master Pale. Before the procedure, Teufel spent almost all of his time under heavy sedation,” the doctor insists, “He had lucid periods, yes, but all too often he was a danger to himself and the other patients. Please understand, Master Pale. We asked him if he was sure several times during his lucid episodes, and he urged us to go ahead with the operation. There really was no other choice.”

“And since the operation, has he given you any trouble?” Elle asks delicately, “You mentioned an incident with the art gallery...”

“That was a small problem, yes, but minor compared with his earlier outbursts. Other than that-” Darwin pauses, “Well, there was one time when he briefly went missing. We had a power outage, you see. It took some time to get the generator working again, and when we checked on the patients afterwards we realised that Anders wasn't in his room. We searched the whole hospital, but we couldn't find him anywhere – until, a few hours later, we found him wandering down a hallway as if nothing had happened.”

“How strange,” you muse, “Do you know what happened?”

“The only explanation I can give is that he was hiding from us somewhere, perhaps moving about the hospital while we were searching. But, frankly, I doubt that Teufel would be capable of such a thing,” she offers you a humourless smile, “You probably noticed that quick thinking was difficult for him.”

Understandable, considering that they cut out a part of his damn brain.

“Listen, Master Pale. Teufel is on heavy sedation right now, he's going to sleep for a long time. But he'll be awake again by the evening time. I'm willing to let you speak with him again if you want,” Darwin offers, with no small amount of reluctance, “But please, don't provoke him. Please.”

>There's no point. I'm not going to learn anything new here
>Thank you. I'll be sure to treat him gently
>How would you suggest I proceed, then?
>I need to ask you something... (Write in)
>Other
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>>6104629
>How would you suggest I proceed then?
It does sound like they saved him with that procedure
Then again, we really only have Darwin’s word on it
>>
>>6104629
>What happened to the part you cut out?
>I want to try the art treatment again, would it be possible? Do you have any silver paint?
>>
>>6104629
>How did you hear about my father passing away?
His death should mostly be a secret and while Alex might have let it slip in his attempts to get in contact with Teufel, it doesn't hurt to see her answer since Darwin doesn't come across as the most trustworthy person.
>>
I like our boy Pale going to this hospital with his usual edge and wit, making fun of the patients' art and muh padded cells and such... only to leave here with a newfound loathing for the mental "health" system and "procedures" and those perpetrating it on the broken

>>6104629
First >>6104637
Then >>6104634
>>
“Doctor, something occurred to me,” you say slowly, “I don't recall mentioning that my father had passed away.”

“That would be because you didn't, Master Pale,” Darwin answers simply, “There was a Master Seidel here earlier, trying to speak with Teufel. We explained to him that only Master Pale was authorised to visit, and he explained that Master Pale was no longer alive. My condolences, by the way.”

You wave away her token attempt at sympathy with a gesture, frowning to yourself. It makes sense, but you're not particularly happy about it. Perhaps you're reading too much into it, but you can easily imagine Darwin convincing Alex, or anyone else really, into saying far more than they really should. When you get back home, you'll have to warn him not to be so careless.

“By the way, this may seem like a rather gruesome questions, but...” you pause, already wincing at your own words, “What did you do with the parts of his brain that you cut out?”

“Why, do you think I have a collection of brains in jars back here?” Darwin asks with a pretty scowl, gesturing back towards the closets in the back of her office. You don't dare say it, but that thought had actually occurred to her. “Any tissue that is removed would be incinerated, in line with standard procedures,” she continues after a moment, “If you're curious, I have some diagrams about the procedure...”

“That won't be necessary!” Elle yelps, frantically shaking her head.

Darwin looks faintly disappointed, and you decide to quickly change the subject. “I was wondering if we might try the art therapy again,” you suggest, “Would that be possible?”

“There is a risk, of course, but I could arrange that if you think it's truly necessary,” the doctor decides, “I can have some supplies prepared. What do you think you'll need?”

“Paint, a good range of colours,” you answer, recalling Elle's prophecy, “Do you have anything silver?”

This gets her to raise an eyebrow. “I'd have to check about that,” she concedes, “I know that we have grey.”

Which would be useful if the prophecy had mentioned a grey bird. “Well, it'll have to do,” you sigh, “Before we go, is there anything else you'd suggest? Any advice on dealing with Anders?”

“He doesn't talk much with us, or most of the other patients, but there is one man he seems more open with. Konilev, I believe his name is. You could try and ask him for advice,” Darwin pauses for a moment, “Don't worry, Konilev is mostly harmless now. A fairly standard case of religious mania. His family brought him in after he attempted self-mutilation. He believed that his penis was a source of Calamity and... don't SMIRK, Master Pale, this is no laughing matter!”

“Sorry,” you apologise. It's really not funny, but you keep thinking back to Kalthos' book – and the “great white serpent” he mentioned.

[1]
>>
>>6104660
Great "Pale" devil huh
I don't think it's the main character
>>
>>6104660
Lmao
Does Konilev have like a dozen kids or something? If so not an unreasonable belief
>>
>>6104660

“So,” you murmur as you leave the office, “What do you think?”

“I think that if I ever go mad, I'd prefer it if you just lock me in the attic or something,” Elle whispers back, “This place is turning my stomach.”

“Sounds good. We can share an attic room,” you agree with a humourless smile, “Well, if Anders is going to be sleeping off his dose, we might as well look for this Konilev fellow. Hopefully he hasn't cut off his tongue along with his-”

“Okay, okay, let's... not,” the oracle pleads, “Let's not finish that sentence, okay?”

-

Asking one of the guards for a description, you find Konilev in the common room. A genteel old man with a large beard, he sits smoking a pipe by one of the windows. He doesn't look like the sort of person who might try to violently castrate themselves, but you suppose you can't judge a book by its cover. You give him a nod of greeting, and he merrily gestures towards the empty chairs nearby.

“Anders, eh?” he begins, as you tell him why you're here, “Strange boy. Comes to me sometimes with questions of faith, but I don't think he's ever been one for church. Maybe he just wants a distraction. Can't blame him, can you?”

“I shouldn't let the doctors overhear, but I'm a bit of a Nicean myself,” Konilev continues with a wink, “Don't worry, I'm not about to start preaching to you. But Anders, he loved to hear about it. He said something to me once, let me think...”

You wait as Konilev puffs on his pipe and tugs on his beard. “Ah yes!” he announces after a moment, “Anders said that if the Godhead would only act, everything would be okay. I told him that, well, maybe one day it would. Watch for the wounded woman, I told him, she'll be a sign that better days are coming. Maybe you saw it, but there's a painting of the wounded woman in the front hall. There's a secret about that painting. Come a little closer, and I'll tell you.”

Giving Elle an exasperated look, you lean a little closer to Konilev.

“If you look closely, you can see her tit,” the old man whispers, laughing lecherously as you recoil, “It's true! I can't tell you how many times I've caught Anders staring up at that painting!”

That seems like a good place to end the conversation.

-

Retreating from the common room, you look around for a bit before finding an empty office. Closing the door feels like an escape from the outside world, and you can finally relax a little. Judging by the look on her face, Elle isn't enjoying this any more than you are. “This place is so depressing!” she sighs, “I hope Anders can help us, even just a little bit.”

“Anything other than a wasted trip, right?” you agree, “I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm reaching for something, anything, that might help me understand – but everything I grasp turns into smoke, and I'm left with nothing.”

“Don't give up, Isambard,” Elle urges, gently touching your arm, “Have faith.”

[2/3]
>>
>>6104672
Or he had dangerous or socially-unacceptable sexual urges?
>>
>>6104686

You put your hand over Elle's, feeling her cool skin for a moment before she hastily draws back her arm. “I'm sorry,” she says automatically, “I just... I don't like seeing you get disheartened like that. It makes me feel down as well. Even if things seem tough now, we have to keep going.”

“Always the optimist,” you tease gently, “But you're right. It's too soon to give up.”

“It's so annoying, though!” Elle groans, “There's something I'm missing, something right in front of me. It was that name, the one who made the building. Drummond, they said. I'm sure I've heard that name before, I'm sure of it!”

Just one more question that you can't answer. “Why don't we take a walk?” you suggest, “No doctors, no mental patients, just a walk around. Maybe you'll see something that will jog your memory.”

With a weary smile, Elle nods. Leaving the office together, you stroll back towards the front entrance and look back to the large painting. After Albershot, you can't look at the wounded woman without shuddering, but you force yourself to examine it closely. “Hey, look,” you whisper to Elle, “You really can see her-”

“Don't be ridiculous,” the oracle interrupts, giving you a scolding look, “You're just imagining it. That old man has been putting dirty ideas in your mind.”

“I've got plenty of my own dirty ideas, thank you very much,” you counter, causing Elle to laugh aloud. It's good to hear her laugh, especially in a grim place like this. “Seriously though, all these long empty hallways and weird people...” you add in a low voice, “Add a few ghouls, and this place would be just like the Iron Keep. It's just missing-”

“Oh!” Elle gasps, cutting you off, “Isambard, you're wonderful!”

“Naturally,” you reply, a little stunned by her outburst, “But can I ask why?”

“Drummond was the one who designed the Iron Keep!” she explains, a wide smile of relief spreading across her face, “That's why the name was so familiar! Gosh, that's a relief. I thought I was going to go mad...”

“Well,” you point out, “You're in the right place for that.”

>I'm going to pause here for today, do some prep for tomorrow. I'll be continuing then, same rough start time
>Thank you for playing along today!
>>
>>6104709
>Drummond was the one who designed the Iron Keep!
The Keep, this hospital... Maybe he had some hand in the Demesne? Surely not designing such an ancient, magical place, but maybe helping navigate it?

Thanks for running, QM! Sorry I was too busy to play today.
>>
>>6104709
Thanks for running!

When Drummond designed his long hallways did he envision them being left empty? I like to think he wanted them filled with fragrant potted plants and cheerful smiling people.
>>
>>6104709
Secret passages. We need to FIND THEM. They're how Anders slipped by the orderlies in that power outage
>>
>>6104728
This anon gets it!

Is there a hidden passage around the painting too?
>>
>>6104709
Thanks for running.
Out of context, Teufel shouting about the white devil is a funny scene to picture. Visiting a mental asylum with flickering lights at nighttime without a Teilhard to save us is going to be a fun experience. There's even the Nicean avatar with a huge tree that's seemingly luring people to it, tempting them to take her hand.
Bard's also getting bold with that handholding with Elle at the end there.

>>6104728
Bard also notes about how easy it would be to leave through the windows. With the cover of the blackout, it doesn't sound like it would have been too difficult for Gratia to have sneaked in and question Teufel while hiding from the asylum staff.
>>
>>6104796
That'd be why part of it looks like it's been touched a lot, and why he was always hanging around the painting too
>>
>>6104810
How did Gratia set up the power outage and know where Teufel was located to ask him? In fact, does Gratia have her own secret circle of friends offscreen like how Isambard does? Did she also have a guy in the group she was tempted by like how Isambard has 3 girls (Elle, Juno, Ariel?) he's always around?
>>
>>6104810
>Bard's also getting bold with that handholding with Elle at the end there.
Well, he now knows pretty much for a fact that Elle is super into him, even if it's because of the romance of Bard's protagonist-like proximity to adventure/fate/God whatever.
>>
>>6104728
>>6104810
I think it's more likely that Gratia used a secret passage, possibly linking near the Demense.

Unless Drummund is a madlad beyond measure and has a NETWORK of "dark paths" running through the kingdom.
>>
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Surprisingly, there aren't many ways to pass the time in an insane asylum. You spend a lot of time pacing the long hallways as you wait for Anders to sleep off his injection, so much that the map of the hospital might as well be engraved on your memory. Time and time again, you find yourself drawn back to the painting of the wounded woman. Elle is often there, gazing up at the picture as if in a trance.

“We've got to stop meeting like this,” you remark as you pass her once again. She looks around and gives you a tired smile, then looks back to the painting. “I know, I know. It's a nice painting,” you add, “But it's not THAT nice.”

“Sorry. I'm just...” Elle replies, “We have a painting just like this one back at home. It always scared me a little. I'd have nightmares about this wild woman creeping about a forest and snatching away naughty children.”

Now that sounds familiar.

“Anyway, it's almost time,” the oracle continues, glancing at the setting sun gleaming through the window, “Do we have a plan yet?”

“Get Anders talking if we can, get him in front of an easel, then stick a paintbrush in his hand,” you answer, “Hopefully he'll give us something to work with. There's just one thing I need to do first...”

-

It takes no small amount of persuasion to get Darwin to agree to you carrying your sword into the hospital, but you can be persistent when you want to be. You're not sure what's going to happen, but you feel a lot safer with a weapon at your side. Resting one hand on the hilt of your sword, you slowly wander down the long hospital corridor. The other patients have been herded into their rooms and sealed in, leaving the hospital feeling utterly deserted.

With a heavyset guard gently guiding him along, Anders enters the treatment room and looks around in mild confusion. “I've been here before,” he says softly, “Haven't I?”

“Yes, Anders,” you tell him, “We're going to try some painting today. Paint whatever you like – the first thing that comes to mind.”

Anders stares into space for a moment as he thinks, then he slowly starts to move some of the easels around. Setting three of them up in front of a chair, he sits down and stares at the blank canvas. He stares for so long that you'd think he'd fallen asleep, if not for his open eyes.

“Do you like painting, Anders?” Elle asks softly, “I heard that you like that painting in the front hall. It's the wounded woman, isn't it?”

His eyes flick in her direction, but he doesn't say anything.

“Actually, I think people focus on the wounded woman too much,” the oracle continues, “The Nicean Prophecies mention a lot more signs than just her. Like the stars – the prophecies say that when God is coming, the night sky will be alive with dancing stars. That would be so beautiful, don't you think?”

Still silent, Anders reaches for a paintbrush.

[1/2]
>>
>>6105169

The setting sun fades from view as Anders slowly daubs paint onto the canvas, the golden light replaced by a harsh white of the voltaic lamps above. You sit in silence, reluctant to say anything for fear of distracting the ailing man. He's hesitant at first, awkwardly painting wavering lines on one canvas, but slowly gains confidence. Stroke by stroke, an image takes shape – a group of men, little more than black smears, standing around a bonfire as thick trees surround them.

“Is that Ivory Shoulder?” Elle asks, “That's a funny name, isn't it? Why do they call it that, anyway?”

“Because there's a statue buried there,” Anders answers, his hand trembling a little, “There's only a little bit of it above ground. Just a little nub of white stone, white like ivory.”

“I see. That makes sense,” she murmurs, “Do you remember what happened there?”

“I... don't know,” he whimpers, shaking his head, “But I wrote it all down. I wrote until my hand was sore.”

As he says this, Anders reaches up towards the top of the canvas and paints a black flick in the branches of a tree – a bird, you realise. His gaze is drawn towards it, his hand starting to tremble. “You wrote it all down, Anders,” you press, hoping to keep him focused, “What happened then? Did someone take your story away?”

“I gave it to the wounded woman,” Anders answers, painting another bird. He freezes, staring at the painting for what seems like an eternity. Overhead, the lights flicker and darken before flaring back into life. Then, with a sudden motion, he stabs his brush down into a thick pool of black paint and slashes it across the canvas. Each violent stroke leaves the crude suggestion of a bird, and Anders' eyes grow wider and wilder with each mark he makes.

“Anders?” you snap, but he pays no heed. Lurching around in his chair, he starts to smear black paint across one of the fresh canvases before snatching up a fresh brush and adding a vivid streak of red. Sparks fly as one of the lamps above bursts apart, causing Elle to let out a shriek of surprise, but Anders works on regardless. When you grab his arm, you feel that his muscles are as unyielding as steel.

You have just enough time to look around at the canvas and see a pair of lurid red eyes glaring out at you before the lights fail completely, plunging the whole room into darkness. Even through the sudden blackness, you can see Anders' arm moving as he layers more and more paint onto the canvas, but that's not the only thing you can see. It must be a trick of the light, or the darkness, but it almost looks like the canvas is... moving.

>Wait and watch. You need to witness this
>This has gone on long enough. Get Anders away from the canvas
>You need to get out of here. Just grab Elle and run
>Other
>>
>>6105170
>Wait and watch. You need to witness this
>"Elle, get ready to restrain him if he tries to harm himself or destroy the paintings. He needs to live."
>ready the revolver but don't draw or shoot
>lock eyes defiantly with the painting beast
>(whisper at the beast) "Don't you have anything better to do?"
>>
>>6105170
>Wait and watch. You need to witness this
>ready the revolver but don't draw or shoot
>>
With a macabre fascination, you watch as the paint writhes on the canvas. Slowly, ever so slowly, the black paint churns like a whirlpool around the burning red eyes. Heedless of the impossible transformation playing out before him, Anders keeps adding more and more paint to the canvas. At one point the brush falls from his numb fingers, but he barely seems to notice. He just starts to daub his fingers into the paint and smear it on with his bare hands.

“Isambard!” Elle whispers, but you reach out a hand to silence her.

“Just wait!” you hiss, “Get ready to hold him back if he tries to hurt himself, or damage the painting. But until then, we wait.”

“We... wait?” she repeats, her voice wavering. Even in the darkness, you can see the sapphire of her eyes glinting out at you. They vanish briefly as she shuts her eyes tight, and then you see her nod.

Cautiously, you reach down and snap open the holster at your belt. With one hand resting on the grip, you gaze straight into the painting. There's no mistaking it for an illusion now – there's definitely movement there, no matter how impossible that might be. You take a pace to the side for a better look, and the red eyes seem to follow you wherever you move.

“Haunting a mental patient...” you murmur, without taking your gaze from the painting, “Don't you have anything better to do?”

It's as if the painting beast had been waiting for those words. No sooner have they left your mouth, everything seems to happen at once. Anders lets out a thin cry and throws himself back from the painting, clasping his hands to his face. Elle dives after him, and you do the same. Fighting with a strength completely at odds with his sleepy, sluggish behaviour, Anders struggles against you as you pull his hands back. You can see deep scratches down his face from where he clawed at his eyes, but that's all they are – just scratches.

Before Anders can cry out again, you hurriedly clap a hand over his mouth and silence him. He thrashes for a moment more, then goes very still. His eyes stop their mad rolling, and seem to focus on something just beyond your gaze. With a sudden feeling of dread, you slowly turn your head to follow his gaze. Though the darkness in the room is near total, there's just enough light for you to see that you're no longer alone.

It's hard to describe exactly what you see. It presents itself as a deeper darkness, a perfect blackness against the deep grey background – an absence, rather than a presence. The silhouette is vague, suggesting a hunched, lumped form of roughly human proportions. The head, though, is far from human – grossly distended into a spike-like beak, shuddering and trembling even as the rest of the beast remains statue still.

[1]
>>
>>6105182

You lie there in the blackness, holding a hand over Anders' mouth to stifle any noises he might make. Yet, you can't be certain that you won't be the one to scream instead. A terrible thought occurs to you as you lie in the gloom – someone outside might have heard Anders' cry. If they come running and burst in on you, what then?

The blackness before you shifts as the beast moves, but it makes no sound at all. Even when it walks over a fallen canvas, there isn't even the slightest rustle or whisper of cloth. At one point it lurches straight past you, so close that you can see the individual fingers on its hand – six of them, all uneven lengths.

It's then that the sharp smell of urine stabs at your nose, and Anders goes very limp in your arms. Fighting the immediate urge to look around, you slowly turn your head towards him. He's unconscious, fainted dead away, but otherwise alive. Carefully touching a hand to his neck, you feel a weak pulse throbbing away. Easing the comatose man to the ground, you tentatively look back around - but the shadow is gone.

One by one, the voltaic lamps blink back into life until the room is bathed in a blinding white light. She collapses back, staring up at the ceiling and gasping for breath. Gradually, the strength returns to your body and you manage to stand upright, offering her a hand up.

“I don't...” Elle whispers, “I don't know what to say. What-”

“What was that thing?” you finish for her, “A long time ago, my father called out. I think that thing was what answered him. But it just... vanished.”

Elle looks down at Anders, her eyes losing focus as the awesome power of the Emanations washes over her. “It was him,” she murmurs, “It came her for him. Drawn by his fear, his terror. But when he fainted-”

“When he fainted, the fear was gone. That creature, that spirit, lost the trail,” you realise, “It gave up... this time. Next time-”

But you don't get the chance to finish that thought, as the door bursts open and several doctors sweep in to surround you.

-

“They say Anders should be fine,” Elle tells you, tugging the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, “A few scratches, but nothing serious. Of course, they'll have to wait for him to wake up before they can know for sure.”

“Well, at least this hasn't been a complete disaster,” you agree, sipping the mug of hot tea someone gave you, “We'll call it a partial disaster at worst. If we could find that writing Anders mentioned, we might be able to salvage something from this mess...”

“The writing...” Elle murmurs, her eyes widening, “Isambard, I've got an idea!”

>Tell me then, because I'm completely lost
>I think I know too... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6105189
>I think I know too... (Write in)
Secret passage behind the painting. Drummond made them here like he did in the Iron Keep. That's how Anders evaded the doctors during that blackout. It must also be how... that girl... got in to speak with him without anyone noticing.
>>
>>6105189
>Drawn by his fear, his terror.
>>6104610
>Blood and terror, they could smell the blood and terror. It's what feeds them, nourishes them...
>>
>>6105189
>A long time ago, my father called out. I think that thing was what answered him
>>6104610
>“The white devil called out, and there was an answer. But it wasn't the answer he was expecting. He invited them in, and she wanted to cast them out.”
>>6103818
>“beware the silver bird, but spare its life”
>>6104578
>“I thought you were the girl.”
>“Which... girl?”
>“The girl with the bird,"
>Did the girl look like me?
>“...I think so,”
Hmmmmm
>>
>>6103211
>“I'm no expert, and I don't want to be, but they believed in a world of petty gods and spirits. With the proper rites, men could draw their attention and make contact with these spirits,” Alex explains, “That's what got Gideon interested. He contrasted it, I suppose, with the Godhead. Here were gods that actually answered their prayers.”
>“After a while, I started hearing rumours – rumours about a great white devil that joined the natives in their rituals, then led them,”

>>6104542
>“I don't recall him ever saying the name “Gideon”, but for a time he did talk about a “great pale devil”. He would wake up in the middle of the night, claiming that it was outside his window, dancing in the moonlight. He would get quite worked up,”

>>6103248
>a cuirass of gleaming silver
>you feel the corrosive sting of Calamity

>>6103274
>Just for a moment, a fleeting fraction of a second, you see the metal stained with dark rivulets of blood. A blink later, and the image is gone once more. The metal is as bright as the light of the full moon

>>6099385
>The moon looks different here, compared with at the Pale Estate – the colour is different, as if the Tomoe's corruption had even managed to stain the moon itself.

Just what IS the QM cooking?
>>
“I think I know too,” you reply, “You said that Drummond designed this place, right? There must be secret passages, just like the Iron Keep. I'll wager that they were how Anders kept evading the doctors during the blackout they mentioned. They might even be how that... girl... was able to enter the hospital without being seen.”

“Right!” Elle agrees, smiling brightly despite everything that's happened, “And the entrance to the secret passage-”

“It's behind the painting of the wounded woman!” you finish for her. Elle laughs, throwing her arms around you in a brief hug. Before you can do anything more than lightly touch her back, she's already sprung away. “Well, come on,” you tell her, “Let's go and see if we're right.”

With a skip in her step, Elle leads the way as you hurry past bemused doctors and return to the entrance hall. As you go, you wonder if Anders himself remembered what he did here, or if he was just drawn to the painting by a vague sense of familiarity. Either way, he left enough clues for you to follow his trail back here. Looking up at the painting, and the faint scuff marks on the outstretched hand, you gently push against the marked section. You feel a faint resistance at first, then hear a deep clunk.

Down below you, a second of the wooden panelling on the walls pops open a little bit. Wedging your fingers into the ajar gap, you pull the hidden door open and peer inside.

“Here,” Elle says, handing you a lantern. Nodding your thanks, you creep into the narrow passage. Fortunately, there's only one path that you can follow – a low tunnel running through the hospital's spine. You walk for a short while, neck awkwardly stooped to pass under the low ceiling, and then the tunnel opens out into a strange room. The room is devoid of any furniture, but the walls...

The walls are covered in dense, scrawled text, words written in faded black charcoal – no doubt purloined from the art supplies.

“This...” you murmur, “This is what Anders wrote.”

“Yes,” Elle agrees, “She showed him this place. She watched and waited as he wrote it all down. It nearly destroyed him.”

A faint shiver runs down your spine as you picture the scene – Anders, frantically scrawling words along the wall, dredging up his worst memories, while the girl watches with cold, calculating eyes. Had he dropped dead at the end of it, would she have cared at all?

Pushing those doubts aside, you walk a slow circuit around the room until you find what is, you presume, the beginning of the story. Making a slight adjustment to your lantern's light, you start to read-

THE SOLDIER'S TALE.

[1/3]
>>
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>>6105202

Your name is Anders Teufel, and you've known bloodshed. You were there when the Lliogor washed ashore and started massacring all that they could find. Though you were little more than a boy, you were there at the Siege of Portsmaw, when the Lliogor launched firebombs into the city in an attempt to break the bloody stalemate. Then, when the war was over, you drifted south to wallow in bloodshed once more.

But what you saw there, what you did there, was different. It sent you fleeing back to your homeland, plunged into a frenzy of strong drink and laudanum as you sought the merciful embrace of oblivion. Somehow, the details of which remain elusive, you arrived at the Ivory Shoulder – a strange little settlement far to the north of Agoria, so close to the Great Sea of Dust that the wind sometimes carries a mist of fine white debris. Here, men with unspoken pasts live out a quiet life of solitude. Here, perhaps, you found peace.

Until the blood started flowing once more.

-

Shortly after dawn, the screams wake you from a deep ocean of slumber. You wake in agony, head crushed in the vice of a terrible ache. As you've done many times before, you lie to yourself and pledge to dismantle the crude, home-made still that produces the dark, secret liquor which you so often savour. The scream rings out again as you roll out of bed, stumbling out into the merciless light of day.

Out in the communal garden, you see a loose group of your fellow hermits caught in the grips of hysteria. Stumbling over and pushing them aside, you realise what they had seen. Ennis lies in the long grass and weeds, the soil beneath him dark and sodden with blood. His throat has been cut, the wound so deep that you can see the flash of white bone gleaming through. Just a few feet away from the body, a bloodied sickle lies discarded.

“Impossible!” someone stammers, “I was... I was just with Ennis yesterday!”

“Who could have done this?” another voice sounds out.

With a dull ringing in your ears, you can't tell who is speaking and who is silent. Suddenly, a lurch in your stomach sends you fleeing from the garden to retch into a ditch. No matter how much you try, however, the vomit just doesn't come. With the acid still boiling in the pit of your stomach, you collapse backwards and sit slumped in the dirt for a long while.

Eventually, you hear footsteps behind you and a heavy hand falls on your shoulder. “Come, Anders,” the voice murmurs, “We need to talk. We all need to talk.”

Nodding numbly, you look up at the man only to squint – with the glare of the sun behind him, his features are dark and indistinct. It's as if the man has no face.

[2/3]
>>
>>6105204

Looking secretively around you, you follow the man back to your fellow hermits. There are... there were a dozen of you living here, all men like yourself. Ennis was your leader, so much as any of you was above anyone else, and his death has cast you all adrift. Your headache is getting worse, the pain bad enough that your vision blurs and wavers. Even standing so close to them, you can barely tell your companions apart.

“Did anyone see or hear anything out of the ordinary last night?” one man – Norris, you think – asks, “Any strangers lurking out in the woods?”

“No new faces,” another man (Quincey?) answers, “But I heard someone moving about last night. I heard the bedroom door open, and then close again. I heard footsteps.”

“Did you SEE anything?” Norris presses.

“It was dark!” Quincey complains, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Did anyone ELSE hear anything?” Dalton asks. You're sure it's Dalton – you recognise his accent.

A sudden silence. “I can't have been the only one!” Quincey yelps, “Cameron? Gilroy? We were all in the same dorm, you two must-”

“I didn't hear a thing,” Gilroy answers quietly, “Don't drag me into this.”

“Calm down, all of you!” Norris snaps, “We need to be rational about this, we need-”

“Anders!” Quincey insists, turning to you last of all, “You were the only other one in the room, surely you heard something!”

You didn't, of course, because you were passed out in a drunken stupor. Your memory of that entire night, from the moment you started drinking in the early evening onwards, is a blank. You start to tell him that, then pause. What would the others think, if you were to confess your weakness? Useless Anders, unreliable Anders... suspicious Anders.

>[Lie] I definitely heard something last night. Footsteps, and the sound of the door
>[Half-truth] I didn't hear anything last night. Nothing at all
>[Truth] I don't remember anything. I was... passed out all night
>Other
>>
>>6105206
>[Truth] I don't remember anything. I was... passed out all night
This is us trying to seek refuge from the past same as all the hermits have been. So what if we were passed out? We know we didn't do it and so do they. Don't they know we drink, Anders? Didn't any of them see you or smell it on you, like they must have at least once before? Why are they asking you then? Those hypocrites.
>>
>>6105209
>>6105206
You're not fucking suspicious, damnit! You're not useless or unreliable either. You put in the work so often for so long you wound up here over it, after THAT colony hellhole. In fact, why not try something else? Stay up in the night for once. You'll have a VERY SPECIAL bottle ready to toss at whoever killed Ennis and make them regret being alive. He didn't deserve to go out that way...
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>>6105170
err.....Teufel?
>>
One after the other, the men turn to look your way. Beneath the weight of their staring eyes, you feel powerless – and then you feel angry. What right do they have to judge you?

“I don't remember anything,” you announce, your voice seeming to come from some place very far away, “I was... I was passed out all night.”

“Passed out?” a man asks in a thin, nasal voice. Though his face is just a smear of tanned flesh and gold hair, you recognise Sigurd. He never liked you. “Well...” he adds thoughtfully, “You could've done anything, the state you were in.”

“No, no no...” you reply angrily, “You're not pinning this on me. So what if I was drunk? So what if I was trying to seek a little refuge, just like the rest of you?”

Your outburst echoes out around the group. Was that really you speaking, just then? They don't seem like your words.

“Anders-” Norris begins, his voice the stern tone of a self-appointed leader. Ennis isn't even cold, and he's trying to take his place.

“Don't pretend that you didn't know. Don't pretend that you couldn't smell it on me!” you spit, gesturing wildly, “Enough of this self-righteous shock! You only want someone to blame, well find someone else! I've put in as much work as anyone else here, I won't be made into your scapegoat!”

After everything you've done, after every nightmare that you've slogged through. The war, that dark, accursed southern land, and now this!

“That's enough, please, that's enough!” Quincey cries out, “Turning on each other isn't going to help. I... maybe I was wrong, maybe I was dreaming. I don't know. But we need to stay united!”

You look around at the little man, surprised that he'd rise to your defence so suddenly. A silence falls, and the heat slowly drains out of the air. The men, having lost their appetite for accusations, mill around for a moment more before slowly departing.

“No more drinking,” you promise to nobody in particular, “I'll stay awake this night, and I'll catch them. I'll catch whatever bastard got Ennis. I'll catch them, you hear me?”

But nobody replies. It's as if you were crying into the void.

-

It's all falling apart.

Your day is spent in a nightmare of fear and paranoia. Together with your remaining comrades, you search through the surrounding woods for any trace of an interloper. Nobody has dared to give voice to the idea that you're all thinking – that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't an outsider who killed Ennis. You search until the day grows long and the sun begins to sink below the horizon, with the darkness sending you fleeing for home.

And then, the next morning, Sigurd is dead – dragged out of his bed and gutted like a fish. The other men in the dorm slept through it all.

Or so they claim.

[1]
>>
>>6105217

Nobody goes anywhere alone now, and the other men scarcely dare to close their eyes for a moment. Splitting up into pairs, the other men embark on a frantic patrol of the camp. It's pointless, a futile waste of time, but the alternative is to do nothing and wait to die. All the while, your headache hasn't loosened its grip. If anything, it's gotten worse. As you walk through the forest, the landscape around you seems to rise and fall like the waves.

All you want to do is find a dark place to curl up and die, somewhere far away from the noise and fuss. But, whenever you try to go off on your own, you sense the suspicious eyes turning your way. So you endure the endless drama, quietly wishing for it all to end.

Evening is growing close, and you're staggering back to camp when you hear the shouting. Breaking into a loping, uneven run, you arrive to find the others gathered around a large bonfire. Quincey is on his knees, struggling against the two men holding him down. “I didn't do anything!” he pleads, “Somebody tell them, I didn't-”

“Dalton is dead!” Norris bellows, “You were supposed to be watching him!”

“We... we heard something in the forest. We ran to check it out, but... but we got separated!” Quincey whimpers, “I don't know what happened to him. We got split up, I tried... I tried to double back and find him, but I couldn't... I couldn't...”

A wave of grotesque, animal noise rises up to drown out his words, human voices turned bestial by the weight of fury. Wincing, clutching your head against the shooting pain, you try to focus on anything – anything except for the wild dancing light of the bonfire. Someone has a gun, you realise, an old military revolver – your revolver? - and brandishes it furiously towards Quincey.

“It's him! He's the one who killed Ennis, and Sigurd, and Dalton too!” the faceless mass of voices howl, “Put the beast down!”

>They're right. You should put the beast down!
>You can't let them do this. You have to do... something!
>You shouldn't intervene. Better not to draw any more attention to yourself
>Other
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>>6105222
>You can't let them do this. You have to do... something!
Hmm, fire a gun straight up?
>>
>>6105217
>Was that really you speaking, just then? They don't seem like your words.
Call it a bit of repressed emotion. (He doesn't know it's us)

>>>6105222
>You can't let them do this. You have to do... something!
Hey when the fuck did they take your gun?! That's YOURS! And where the hell is Dalton's body if they say he's dead? I don't trust this one bit...
>>
>>6105222
>You can’t let them do this!
Suggest confinement instead of execution
>>
When the rest of them turned on you, Quincey spoke up to defend you. He was the only one to take your side, even when you left him hanging. Now he's here, facing down a lynch mob. You can't just stand by and let them do this. You have to do... something, anything!

Rushing forwards, you grab for the gun and throw a clumsy punch at the shape holding it. He falls backwards with a curse, blood streaming from his broken nose, and you waste no time in firing a shot into the air. As the gunshot rings out, everyone freezes.

Then, one by one, the eyes turn to you. Suddenly, it feels as if history is repeating itself.

“What are you doing?” you rasp, forcing the words out from your raw throat, “Turning on each other like this...”

“He forced our hand!” Dalton complains. No, not Dalton – Dalton is dead, you even saw the body. No... no, that was Ennis. Ennis was killed with a sickle in the communal garden. Dalton was...

“How did Dalton die?” you ask slowly, clutching your aching head. You should know this, shouldn't you?

“You want to know how Dalton died?” one of the men asks, looking at you with disgust, “I'll show you how Dalton died.”

-

A grim silence hangs over the group as you trek out into the forest. You've got the gun, which gives you power over them, but you don't dare to presume that you're safe. If anything, you've made yourself a target. These bleak thoughts are washed away as you arrive at the base of a great tree, looking up at the remains draped across the branches. Dalton has been slit open and impaled upon the tree, left for the birds to pick over. His head is a short distance away, speared onto a separate branch.

“This...” you whisper, when you're finished retching, “How is a man like Quincey supposed to do a thing like this? You fools, you... you damn fools!”

“What else could have done it?” the man sneers, gesturing around you all, “I don't see anything else here.”

“Lock him up, then!” you spit, “See what happens then! If your killing stops, then maybe-”

“Shut up!” someone else hisses, and a sudden silence falls over the group, “Where... where's Norris?”

“He was right there,” a man, perhaps Marcus, whines. It's getting hard to keep track of who is who, you realise, but does it really matter? You're all just meat, after all. Just flesh and blood. Dead or alive, that doesn't change much.

“Norris!” someone cries out, hollering the name into the mist and fog, “NORRIS!”

A deep, slow laugh rolls out of the forest in response. At that sound, your resolve is broken. Fleeing in a disorderly rout, you – and the other men – retreat back towards the false safety of your camp.

[1]
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>>6105249

You lose a day. Maybe two.

For all your high talk, for all your promises, you go to the makeshift still and drink it dry. You wake an indeterminate length of time later, feeling as if you're wearing someone else's skin. Your body doesn't quite do what you tell it to do, and just getting out of bed is a clumsy battle. Swatting your shabby pillow aside, you see that the revolver is missing.

Limping out into the dim evening light, you look around and take in the overwhelming silence. There's nobody in sight – has the camp been abandoned? Are you the only one left?

Picking a direction at random, you end up at the supply shack. If the others took your advice and locked up Quincey, this is where they would have put him – it's the only door in the whole camp with a lock. True enough, the door is padlocked tightly shut when you arrive. Circling around, you see that the small window at the rear has been shattered. It's not large enough for a man to squeeze through, but it lets you peek inside.

It lets you see the red ruin of a man sprawled across the floor. The body looks as if something had chewed it up and spat it out, leaving the mangled remains to dry in the sun. And yet, impossibly, it turns its eyeless face towards the window.

“Something got into us.... got under our skin,” the Quincey-thing whispers, “Got into our minds, made us... made us do things, hurt each other. It's still here, Anders. Still inside one of the others.”

A bubble of blood gathers at the corner of the thing's mouth as it struggles to speak.

“Blood and terror, Anders. That's what they want,” it groans, smearing fresh gore about as it writhes, “Oh god, we fed them well...”

With those final words, the body slumps back and goes still. You stare at it for a long time, then glance to the shards of broken glass still clinging to the window frame. Perhaps...

-

Time passes. Numbly, you walk back from the supply shack and the broken window, the horrors inside. Quincey's last words echo through your head – it's still here. Still inside one of the others. But who? There has to be some way to figure it out, but you're not a smart man. A smart man, a man like Master Pale, would be able to figure it out. He told you things, while you were in the south, things that you barely understood. The light of the full moon, he once said, could reveal the truth.

Slowly, you look up at the night sky and the full moon leering obscenely down upon you. Tearing your gaze away, you spot a bonfire burning a short distance away from camp. The others are there. Where else would they be?

With a shard of broken glass from the shattered window as your only weapon, you stumble over towards the bonfire.

One way or another, this ends tonight.

[2/3]
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>>6105251

Three men sit in a rough circle beside the bonfire, staring at each other with a burning intensity. The revolver sits in the middle of their little group, within grasping reach of them all. One man is splattered with blood, his eyes gleaming wide and white against the dark mask. Another man sobs silently, his eyes glistening with tears even as he glances suspiciously at the other two. The final man holds a bone pendant in one hand, rubbing his thumb across it as he fights to stay calm.

“Oh. You,” one man says as you amble over, “I thought you were dead.”

“Maybe he is dead,” another adds, “Just a puppet. A stolen face.”

“Maybe we're all dead,” the final man murmurs, gently kissing his pendant, “How many times have we repeated this moment, do you think?”

You look between the three of them in dull confusion, trying to figure out what you're supposed to do.

>You can figure this out. Use what Master Pale taught you
>They all have to die. It's the only way to be sure
>These men are lost, but you're still yourself. Leave now, and maybe you can stay that way
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>>6105255
>You can figure this out. Use what Master Pale taught you
>>
>>6105255
>You can figure this out. Use what Master Pale taught you
He did right by us mostly, didn't he?
>>
“One of you...” you say in a wavering voice as you gesture with the shard of broken glass, “One of you isn't what they seem. One of you is the... the monster.”

The men don't reply. In fact, they don't even look at you. They simply glance away, their eyes returning to each other and the gun placed between them as if they've already lost all interest in everything that you have to say. Did you say it, you wonder suddenly, or did you just think it? Did they speak, earlier, or were you simply hearing their thoughts?

A vast labyrinth of doubts and hesitation yawns wide before you, and you have to stop yourself from plunging in. There are some questions that cannot be answered, and this is not the time to wrestle with such things. You need to think. If Master Pale was here, what would he say?

“…”

What would he say if slaughtering them all wasn't an option?

The light of the full moon could reveal the truth.

The light of the full moon...

Turning with a sudden lurch of motion, you kick dirt over the bonfire until the flames have been completely snuffed out. The whole scene is plunged into a new darkness, lit only by the silver light of the full moon. Turning back to the tree men, you let out a thin cry of horror. The moonlight casts long shadows, yet one of them is not like the others – it dances and writhes, pulsating as if it was fighting to tear away from its owner. You follow the shadow back to its source, meeting the man's gaze.

Even though his eyes shimmer with tears, the man smiles.

“Clever boy,” he says, his voice low and guttural, “Now what will you do?”

The other two men recoil as you approach, circling around the crying man. He doesn't make any attempt to resist, doesn't even try to move. In fact, he tilts his head up as you move behind him, offering you his throat. Steeling your nerves, you take a handful of his short, scruffy hair and yank his head even further back. With a trembling hand, you raise the shard of broken glass to his throat.

“This isn't the end, Anders. Not even close,” the man continues, drawing out each word in a bored drawl, “We'll see each other again, mark my words. I know your scent, now. I won't forget it.”

You start to say something, then change your mind. Words have long since lost all meaning.

With a single, savage motion, you draw the broken glass across the man's exposed throat and send a wave of black blood rushing forth. He dies silently, slumping to the ground with the smile still on his face. Dropping the glass shard, you stumble back a step and stare up at the full moon. It gazes down upon you, shining with a light that neither condones nor condemns.

Throwing back your head, you let out a long scream of anguish.

[1]
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>>6105279

You sit down very heavily, staring down at your hands and expecting to see them filthy with blood. Slowly, painfully slowly, facts creep back in. Your name is Isambard Pale. You're currently in Saint Samara's Hospital, a facility specialising in nervous disorders. Hopefully, they'll let you leave by the end of all this. You're not alone – you're here with Elspeth Legrasse. Elle.

You're not alone.

“Can you hear me?” Elle whispers, tugging lightly at your arm, “Isambard, please don't... don't do this to me.”

“Do what?” you ask quietly, your voice causing her to recoil in alarm. Her wide eyes stare at you in disbelief for a moment before she lunges forwards and hugs you tightly. This time, she doesn't draw back. “There there...” you mutter, patting her arm gently, “There's no need to overreact.”

“I don't... you were just standing there, like your mind was gone. I thought...” she mumbles into your shoulder, drawing back just enough to slap you on the arm, “Don't SCARE me like that!”

“If you think you had it bad, try reading that damn thing,” you breathe, nodding to the wall, “Or don't, actually. You're better off this way.”

As you lapse back into silence, you feel the nightmarish words sinking into your soul. In a strange sort of way, it almost feels as if your father was speaking to you through Anders – passing on the tainted wisdom he had gathered in his time.

[Insight attunement increased by 1.]

“Well...” Elle says, hesitating, “Does that mean we can upgrade this trip from “partial disaster” to “partial success”, or...”

“I think so,” you reply, “Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to throw up.”

>That feels like a good place to close for today. I should be on track to continue this on Saturday this week
>Thank you for playing along today!
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>>6105285
Reminds me a bit of The Thing. Something else, too. Moonlight revealing hidden monsters... A bird-headed spirit which impales its victims like a shrike... A therianthrope The Great Mother made men into things like beasts in a prior quest, and the Galseans mentioned it giving men more appropriate forms to their nature...

Thanks for running!
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>>6105293
>Reminds me a bit of The Thing
Norris is one of the guys from The Thing. SMT Strange Journey also makes the exact same reference
Anyway Isambard will be better than his father and Gratia. Blame the Teilhards corrupting him
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>>6105285
Thanks for running!

Sorry I couldn't vote, my job has gotten super anal about phones.
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>>6105285
Should we recommend they bring Teufel out to the light of the full moon before we leave?
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>>6105419
Better safe than sorry, but they won't do it unless the doctor herself sees evidence of the supernatural.
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>>6105297
>and Gratia
I do wonder what she's been up to. Teufel talking about a woman suggests she may have been here already, but we'll have to dig a little more I think.
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>>6105419
Recommend?

We should demand it honestly. He is still our vassal after all
>>
Just caught up. Incredible job, QM!

>>6105199
I’m gonna hazard a guess and say that he’s foreshadowing the end result of our rampant (rough equivalent of) demon worship. Calamity maxxing is a fun way to go, but the easy power will inevitably come at a cost.
>>
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Lying back on a bed in an empty hospital room, with Anders' ghoulish painting leering out at you, you let your mind wander. The pieces are starting to come together, and you're starting to see the picture. It all started – as much as anything starts or ends – in the dark southern continent. Amidst an oppressive air of blood and terror, your father called out and something answered him. Following him and his companions back home, it fell upon Anders first and nearly destroyed him. Dunblane knew something, and he was destroyed too. And your father?

No. Not him. Everything about his death has the scent of human hands.

There are still a few holes in your theory. There seems to be a long lull between the southern expedition and the first deaths, a span of over twenty years. Why? And why Anders, before anyone else – was his terror so great that it shone out like a beacon, eclipsing even your father's sins?

You don't have all the answers just yet, but you're getting there.

-

“You're absolutely sure that Doctor Darwin is okay with this?” Elle asks nervously, as you push the creaking wheelchair towards the front doors, “You have actually asked her, yes?”

“Of course I have,” you assure her, glancing down at Anders' motionless form, “Given that our friend here isn't in any danger of running away, she allowed it. I won't say that she was happy with it, but I think she realises that playing along will help get us out of her hair sooner rather than later.”

“Hm,” the oracle murmurs, opening the door so you can wheel Anders out. Even though day is still far off, the full moon casts a bright light down upon the land around you. Here in the north, it seems truly vast – obscenely swollen, swallowing up the blackness of the sky. Wheeling Anders down a grassy path, you step back and carefully examine his shadow.

The shadow is almost perfectly still, just as the man himself is almost motionless. There is only the slightest tremble as he breathes, his shadow shifting in time to his movements.

“There,” you whisper to Elle, “That's a good sign.”

“I'll take your word for that,” she replies, “Though I'm not sure if we should really put so much weight on the words of a man suffering from a serious nervous disorder.”

“You're right,” you agree, “We should be putting her trust in the Emanations instead.”

“That's...” Elle pouts, “That's completely asinine!”

You shrug. “Right now we're fumbling in the dark, grasping for whatever answers we can find. I've listened to oracles, Galseans and the Tomoe – a madman isn't that much of a stretch,” you explain, “Everyone strives towards the truth in their own way, and they all have lessons to learn from – even if it's just to avoid the mistakes they made.”

Elle considers this for a moment. “Fine,” she admits eventually, “I suppose you've got a point.”

[1/2]
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>>6107996

Elle accompanies you back to the spare bedroom, only to stop dead in her tracks as she sees the painting set up next to the bed. She stares at it for a while, the burning red eyes staring back from within their churning void of black. “What is THAT doing here?” she asks eventually.

“I put it there,” you answer simply, “It helped me think.”

“Well... just so long as you don't plan on bringing it back to the estate with us,” the oracle sighs, only for her eyes to widen suddenly, “Oh God, you DO want to bring it back with us!”

“It's perfectly safe. It hasn't moved at all since before, not even a tiny bit,” you explain, “This is important evidence.”

Elle just keeps staring at the painting for a while. “I won't try to change your mind, but only because I know it's a fight that I can't win,” she decides, “But I do have one suggestion. Don't worry, it's not related to that... painting. I think we should go to the Demesne next, as soon as possible.”

You turn away from the painting and raise an eyebrow. “You're not just taking notes, you're writing my schedule for me too,” you remark, “I don't remember giving you a promotion.”

“It's just, ah, more efficient this way,” Elle insists, her cheeks flushing red, “We're already here, it's a much shorter trip to stop by the Demesne now rather than go back to the estate and then come all the way back. You see the logic there, don't you?”

“Calm down, I'm just teasing,” you assure her, gesturing for the oracle to relax, “You do have a point, I'm not arguing that. You're just excited to see it with your own eyes, aren't you?”

“...Maybe,” Elle answers, giving you her best attempt at a coy smile. It doesn't quite work, but you appreciate the effort.

>You're right. We'll head to the Demense next. We're already close, after all
>I still want to go back to the estate first, properly plan out our next moves
>I have some other things to do while we're here... (Write in)
>Other
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>>6107998
>I still want to go back to the estate first, plan out our next moves
Anything but the Demense please
I’ll take another mutant siren
>>
>>6107998
the painting isn't going to do something weird in the full moon, right?
>Before that, I want you to take a look at this armor first. I thought it would lead it would get a reaction from certain supernatural creatures, but since it didn't work I'm thinking of cutting it up and getting something more protective.
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>>6107998
>You're right. We'll head to the Demense next. We're already close, after all
Won't hurt to take a look, but no promises that we delve deep. Let's indulge Elle a little, why don't we?
>>
>>6108006
Honestly with all this Calamity shit plus >>6105199 and >>6106909, I do feel like doing something better and more constructive with the silver cuirass. Something to rid it of the Calamity, if it's even possible
>>
>>6108013
That's the idea, but I'm not really sure how to go about it. The bird imagery is important, but do we make it more prominent, or less?
>>
>>6108016
I wanted to show the cuirass off to Anders but I doubt we can do that now, can we? I don't exactly know either

>>6107998
I'll tiebreak, backing >>6108006 and >>6108007
We should confront that Demesne already
>>
>>6107998
>“It's just, ah, more efficient this way,” Elle insists, her cheeks flushing red, “We're already here, it's a much shorter trip to stop by the Demesne now rather than go back to the estate and then come all the way back. You see the logic there, don't you?”
>“Calm down, I'm just teasing,” you assure her, gesturing for the oracle to relax, “You do have a point, I'm not arguing that. You're just excited to see it with your own eyes, aren't you?”
>“...Maybe,” Elle answers, giving you her best attempt at a coy smile. It doesn't quite work, but you appreciate the effort.
Imagine Bard pinning Elle to a wall in the Demesne and fucking her in an alcove somewhere. That'd be super hot
>>
>>6108026
time to lose some Purity
>>
“Before we move on, there's something I'd like to get your professional opinion on,” you tell Elle, her eyes widening as you start to take off your uniform jacket, “Don't get any funny ideas. I just want you to look at this armour. See if you get any reaction to it.”

Elle nervously bites her lip as you toss the jacket down on the bed, revealing the polished armour. Tentatively, she reaches out a hand and lightly tracing her fingers down the flaming heart design. Even though there's a layer of metal between the two of you, there's still something intimate about her touch. “Where did you get this?” she asks eventually, “It's... old.”

“It used to belong to my father,” you explain, “I thought it might get a reaction from that... thing that was menacing Anders. But it didn't, so now I'm wondering what to do with it.”

Placing the flat of her hand on the armour, Elle closes her eyes and speaks in a low voice. “He faces down the men, a pack of feral savages. He spreads his hands wide and invites them to pierce his heart, but they're too afraid to move. Even when he cuts them down, one by one, they don't dare look him in the eye.”

With a sudden motion, she jerks her hand back and shudders. “Sorry,” the oracle murmurs, “I saw... I don't really think that helps, does it?”

“You think it's bad news, don't you?”

“I... do, yes,” Elle answers, cautiously touching the armour again, “Your father did a lot of terrible things, didn't he? I didn't want to pry, but some of the things that Anders said...”

“He did, yes. It's... not easy to talk about,” you admit, “It's a long story, too. Too long for us to get into now.”

It does not escape your notice that you're using the same tired excuse that Alex used. Elle notices too, but tactfully pretends not to. “I don't think we should destroy it just yet, but maybe... maybe just keep it somewhere safe,” she suggests, “Somewhere that doesn't involve your own torso. There's one other opinion I think we should get, though...”

-

“Master Teufel? Anders?” Doctor Darwin whispers, peeking into the room before giving you an irritated look, “I told you before, he doesn't like waking up early. I don't think-”

“I'm awake,” the low, dreamy voice interrupts. Lumbering clumsily across the room, Anders gives you all a slow look. There's a faint flicker of recognition in his eyes, but not much more than that. Darwin withdraws with a curt nod, closing the door behind her and leaving you alone with the madman. “Hello,” Anders says to you, “I... know you. Don't I?”

“We go way back,” you tell him with a humourless smile. Without another word, you quickly take your jacket off and reveal the armour once more. Anders doesn't flinch away from it, as you thought he might, but a deep shudder runs through him. “You had some armour like this, didn't you?” you ask, “What happened to it?”

“I threw it into the sea,” Anders answers slowly.

[1]
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>>6108030

“You threw it into the sea,” you repeat, “Was that when you were sailing back home?”

“Yes,” he says tonelessly, “Other men did the same. They threw their armour and weapons overboard, then swore to each other that they wouldn't talk about it. But Master Pale didn't. Did he give it to you?”

“Not... exactly.”

“He shouldn't have done that,” Anders slowly shakes his head, “You shouldn't have to carry his burden.”

“Maybe so,” you agree with a sad nod, “But I ended up with it regardless.”

-

As you sit back down in the carriage, you fumble with the straps and take the armour off. Setting it down on the seat beside you, you let out a low sigh. It's too much to think about now, all of it. There's a part of you that wants to retreat back to the cool darkness of your home, to lose yourself in the labyrinth of corridors and empty rooms... but there's a different labyrinth calling out to you now.

“Isambard...” Elle begins, her gaze slipping away from you and settling on a point just over your shoulder. You wait for her to say something more, but she says nothing. Eventually, she shakes her head and lapses back into silence. The silence draws out as your carriage rolls past faded grasslands and into the white dust surrounding the old palace. In what seems like no time at all, you arrive at the entrance to the Demesne.

Entering the palace and following the now-familiar corridors, you spot a young man lingering by the entrance to the Demesne – Cato Silvera. You almost turn back, thinking of his unanswered invitation, but it's too late. He's already seen you.

“Master Pale,” he begins with a formal bow, “And... Miss Legrasse, isn't it? How are your parents?”

“They're... fine,” Elle answers, her voice taut.

“Master Silvera,” you greet him, shaking his hand, “I apologise for not answering your message, I've-”

“Think nothing of it,” he assures you, “You have your own life to live, as do I. You must be very busy.”

“Well... yes, I am,” you nod, smirking slightly to yourself, “Were you here to explore the Demesne too?”

You can't imagine why else he'd be here, after all. You certainly hope he doesn't suggest venturing in together – knowing your luck, you'd run into Kalthos together and that's not a conversation that you relish. But it's your lucky day, as Cato shakes his head.

“I've had my fill for now,” the silver-haired man tells you, “I spent most of the night inside, meditating. You should try it, if you haven't already done so. Now I'm just waiting for-”

“Sorry it took so long,” a soldier calls out, hurrying down the corridor with Cato's sheathed sword, “Here you are, Master Silvera. We kept it nice and safe for you.”

Taking the sword with a nod of thanks, Cato raises his fist to you in an archaic salute before striding out of the hallway. When he vanishes around the corner, you and Elle both let out a sigh of relief.

[2]
>>
>>6108042

“I know, it's terribly impolite,” Elle admits, noticing your curious look, “But I was worried that he'd start asking all sorts of questions about my family, and I'd have to come up with all kinds of excuses. I don't really know what I'd tell him. I, um, haven't really spoken with them for a while, you know.”

“Mm,” you agree, “I'm very much the same.”

“You're terrible!” she whispers, trying to hold back a guilty laugh, “Well, we shouldn't procrastinate any longer.”

Nodding, you approach the entrance and start handing your weapons over to the soldier on duty. He takes them carefully, especially your black ritual knife which he handles as if it was a vile stinging insect. Appropriately disarmed, you start to guide Elle towards the entrance only for the soldier to leap forwards in alarm.

“Hold on!” he yelps, “I can let you in, Master Pale, but not your companion. She hasn't been given permission.”

Of course. They have LISTS, these people. Strange, that King Albrecht would ensure that you're able to explore the Demesne without extending that same privilege to your assistant – and his asset. “You can't make an exception, just this once?” you ask, giving the soldier a firm look, “We're on very important business from King Albrecht.”

“You are, Master Pale. She isn't,” the soldier answers, holding his ground, “I'm sorry sir, but I have orders. I can't be seen showing favourites.”

You glance aside to some of the other soldiers lingering about. They're all listening in, while trying very hard to look as if they weren't actually listening.

“It's fine, Isambard. Don't worry about it,” Elle assures you, “I'll see it another time, once the proper arrangements have been made. I was foolish to forget about them. You go ahead, I can wait.”

“And don't make a scene,” she adds in a low whisper, eyeing the other soldiers, “Please?”

>Make a scene. These rules are a load of nonsense
>You'll go in alone. You shouldn't make any enemies here, after all
>In that case, you won't go in at all. So there
>Other
>>
>>6108045
>By the way Elle, I never did mention the poison I drank inside there, right?
>Alright, let's go in alone!
>>
>>6108045
>Other
See if there is somewhere private we can discuss things.

Make it clear that this is a time sensitive issue and that we will deal with the fallout, we're not trying to "solve" the demesne, but are trying to save our sister and the longer things take the more likely a poor outcome.

Get mad if we need to just do it in private.

He can report this if he feels it necessary, but we need access and we're not doing this because we feel like it.
>>
>>6108045
>Fine, neither of us will go in
ANYTHING
>>
>>6108045
>You'll go in alone. You shouldn't make any enemies here, after all
There goes Elle's planned date in the Demesne. Probably should just ask Kalthos how he managed to sneak in in there when we see him.

>>6108051
Main problem is that they probably don't really care about our sister. If we were to push it, saying that an oracle would help our investigation would be more convincing. I don't think they're even aware of Gratia being inside, so maybe bringing her up could still work if they wanted us to drag her out, but what happens to her once she's out might be a problem.
>>
>>6108056
>what happens to her once she's out might be a problem.
She somehow managed to get in by herself without notice, and as long as nothing demands that we extract her out immediately. We can plan her exit once we've established contact with her.

Potentially even arranging for other organizations / houses to provide asylum for us if we need to

>saying that an oracle would help our investigation would be more convincing.

The less that is known about where we are with our investigation the more we can bullshit later if we need to, so its best to admit nothing more than we need to to get the support we need to continue.
>>
“Is there some way that we can continue this conversation somewhere more private?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder to the other soldiers. They fidget awkwardly in place, some hurriedly looking away as if caught in the act. The young soldier scowls, but reluctantly leads you a few paces further away. It's hardly private, but it's better than nothing.

“This is important,” you tell the soldier, “We believe that someone is trapped inside the Demesne, and time may be of the essence. They need help in there!”

“So... help them,” the soldier suggests, trying not to sound like he's mocking you, “I'm not stopping you, sir, but I need to follow my orders.”

“It's a difficult situation, I know, but I need an oracle for guidance. I don't know if you've been inside the Demesne, but there's a lot of ground to cover. A proper search could last days... weeks...” you fix the young man with the most serious look you can summon up, “If you need to report this to your superiors, that's fine. I'll take the punishment, but-”

“Isambard, don't,” Elle interrupts, touching your arm, “It's not going to work. You go on ahead and scout out the way ahead. We can make the necessary arrangements and come back later. Don't worry, I'll see the Demesne one day – just... not today.”

You give the soldier another scowl, but eventually relent. Dealing with men like this is trying to cut through something very soft and very dense – it takes all your strength to make a shallow cut, only to see the wound close up as soon as the blade is drawn free. He's got the power of a vast, faceless bureaucracy on his side – the Emanations themselves wouldn't have better luck than you did.

“Fine. Fine,” you sigh, shaking your head in dismay, “Wait here, Elle. I won't be too long.”

“Don't worry. I'll find some way to make myself useful here,” she promises, smiling sadly, “Another time.”

The soldier lets out a little sigh of relief, leading you towards the doorway. Elle follows as close as they allow you, only to stumble a little as the doorway looms up in sight. You hasten to steady her, seeing her vague, unfocused eyes. As you help her to her feet, she whispers something to you – more guidance from on high.

“There's more than one of everything.”

-

Elle's words needle at you as you venture into the Demesne alone. They make you think of the Denizens, those strange lifeless copies that populate the lower levels of the Demesne. A warning, perhaps? It feels like Albershot all over again, the fear that your sense might not be entirely trustworthy. You're so caught up in these thoughts that you almost miss the first diversion in the corridor. There was a sealed passage here, you recall, but you should have the means to open it now.

[1]
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>>6108075

True enough, the seal is easily broken when you approach. The room beyond is small and dimly lit, a low mist clinging to the ground. Empty save for a podium, you find a small scroll of aged paper atop the stone. A map of some kind, although you don't recognise exactly what it's a map of. Holding it, you don't feel anything – no slumbering power within. With a shrug, you slip the map into your pocket and move on.

You were almost expecting to find Kalthos waiting for you on the second layer, but the old monster is nowhere in sight. You have no doubt that he has many ways to navigate the Demesne, far more than the few petty tricks he shared with you. It wouldn't surprise you if you turned around and found him standing right behind you.

Well, it might surprise you a bit.

There were another two sealed portals in the second layer, you recall – seals marked with the symbols of Solitude and Sovereignty. You head for the Solitude seal first, purely because Jan comes to mind. As you walk, you pass a few of the Denizens. Neither of them show any reaction to you, even when you accidentally bump into one of them in passing. Even if you were to knock one of them to the ground and savagely beat them, you doubt they'd do anything more than squirm. Idly, you wonder how hard it would be to kill one of them.

Through the Solitude seal, you find a small length of thorns braided into a kind of rope. Carefully picking it up, you test one of the thorns with your fingertip. Despite the great age, it still feels ruthlessly sharp. Anything more than a slight tap, and you'd draw blood. Neatly folding the band up, you slip it into a deep pocket and move on.

Kalthos is waiting for you in the main hall, his yellow eyes glinting menacingly out at you. “Ah, my young apprentice!” he gloats, “I see that you've travelled further down the path of Calamity.”

“Unfortunately so,” you reply, smirking as an idea strikes you, “Hello... Ymir.”

Kalthos raises an eyebrow. “Oh? That's not a name that I've heard in a very long time,” he chuckles, “You've been doing your research.”

“Naturally,” you nod, “So, how's life in the Demesne?”

“Quiet. We had another guest recently, a young man rather like yourself,” Kalthos grins, his lips peeling back from yellowed fangs, “There must not be much sun in the outside world. So many pallid, sickly looking people lately!”

Cato, you assume. Really, aside from the air you look nothing alike.

“I thought it best to hide from the young pup, to stalk him and see where he went. He travelled far, you know, all the way down to the fourth layer. There, he sat down before the door and waited. I think he went to sleep, actually,” the old man's grin gets a little wider, “I thought about bashing him over the head with my cooking pot, but decided against it.”

[2/3]
>>
>>6108089

“Was he the only other person you've seen lately?” you ask, keeping your voice carefully neutral.

“The only other person I've seen today. Or yesterday. It's hard to keep track of time in here,” Kalthos shakes his head, “But he's not the only one. I saw... ah, you don't want to hear this old man ramble on. You've probably got places to be, things to do. You don't want-”

“Who did you see?” you snap, abandoning your short-lived attempt at playing it cool.

Kalthos grins, as if that was the exact response he wanted. “I saw the girl. Again, the fourth layer. I was ambling down a corridor, such is my habit, when she came around the corner before me,” he recalls, “I gave her a friendly hello, but she turned tail and ran! Of course, I'm in no condition to chase after a spry young thing like that. But she's still HERE, and she's still... alive.”

You let your shoulders sag, letting out a low sigh of relief. It barely even occrus to you that the old fiend might be lying, toying with you for some perverse reason. All that matters is that Gratia is still alive, and fit enough to be running about.

“Do you think she... knows that I'm here?” you wonder aloud, before you can stop yourself.

“I rather think she does,” Kalthos answers slowly, his voice growing solemn, “Walk these halls for long enough, and you start to get a feel for them. They whisper to you, if you have the means to hear them. Ah, but that's not something I can teach you. It comes with time, and time alone.”

Time that you may not necessarily have.

>I'm going to pause a bit early today. Sorry for this, but I'm feeling the brainrot. Hopefully, I should be able to run tomorrow even if it's a shorter session again
>Thank for hanging in there
>>
>>6108116
Thanks for running!

>Feeling the brain rot
I haven’t noticed any zoomer speak though?
>>
>>6108120
>I haven’t noticed any zoomer speak though?
I'm too old for that fr fr
>>
>>6108120
Brainrot goes further back than any one generation. It is Calamity. It is ancient beyond man, beyond time. Before ever there was language, the brain of the collective unconscious was rotting.

>>6108116
Thanks for running!
>>
>>6108164
Brain rot has existed since the fateful day that Ug the caveman looked at his friend Grug and thought it would be hilarious to fart on him.
>>
>>6108328
Ug did nothing wrong.
>>
>>6108089
>So many pallid, sickly looking people lately!”
wild guess, The guy Ymir mentioned isn't Cato, but a younger version of Bard's father. Either a denizen or something else.
>>
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“Tell me something, my loyal young apprentice,” Kalthos rasps, his stained red robes whispering against the stone floor as you walk through the Demesne, “Is that ridiculous young man still leading the Tomoe family?”

“If you mean Janus, then yes. He's the current head of the family,” you answer, “And I don't recall agreeing to be your apprentice.”

“Bah, it doesn't matter if you've agreed to it or not. I'm teaching you, that makes you the apprentice – though, I won't call myself a master. I am just a humble mentor,” the old man replies with a rough laugh, “A more laudable title than “foolish old man”, which is what most might call me.”

For good reason, of course. “So unless I'm very much mistaken, you don't care for Master Tomoe,” you remark, “May I ask why?”

“You can ask. But, eh heh heh... I might not answer,” Kalthos chuckles to himself, tugging at his long sleeves and rubbing his gnarled hands together, “What does it matter to you? Could it be that you're trying to learn some coveted family secret, in hopes of impressing that pretty young redhead?”

“Actually, I want to know if I'm wading into some kind of family feud. And, if so, whose side I should be on,” you answer, frowning as a recollection comes to you, “Though I find it very hard to believe that you have ANY kind of relationship with Master Janus. According to your portrait, you're over one hundred and fifty years old.”

This actually causes Kalthos to pause, an expression of genuine alarm twisting his features for a passing moment. “Has it been so long already?” he murmurs, “Well... I suppose maybe it has.”

He's avoiding the question.

“Oh yes, you probably think that I'm avoiding the question,” Kalthos waves away your scowl, “When you get as old as I am, young lad, it gets hard to keep your thoughts in a nice neat order. They wander, boy. They roam like little lost lambs. Now, what were we talking about?”

“You... were just explaining how you entered the Demesne,” you lie, “Quite the feat, I imagine.”

“You're lying,” the old man counters, his eyes narrowing to suspicious slits, “I might be old, but I'm still as sharp as any blade. You can't sneak anything past me.”

“Can you blame me for trying?”

“I can, and I will,” he sneers, waving the subject away with a dismissive gesture, “But I'm a generous soul, so I'll look past it. Let's see... you asked me about my age. Luckily for you, I'm not a woman so I won't take offence. But I have no answer to give you – so long as I remain within these walls, I age but do not die. That, I understand. Exactly how that works, though...”

He finishes this thought with a shrug, bony shoulders shifting within his shapeless red robes. The Demesne is full of mysteries, his gesture seems to suggest, why should this be any different?

[1/2]
>>
>>6108644

“Now, as for your other question. Well, I'll have to disappoint you again,” Kalthos leers, “I entered the Demesne the same way that you did – I walked through the front door.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you reply bluntly, “It was a long time ago, yes, but I can't imagine that attitudes towards the Tomoe were very different back then.”

“Oh no, you're quite correct. They were, if anything, rather stricter. They never would have allowed Ymir Tomoe – blasphemer, occultist, and scholar of banned philosophies – to wander through their sacred places. But Amadeus Silvera, a humble and earnest academic?” the old fiend grins, “It benefits a man to be known by different names in different places, young apprentice.”

It's easy to imagine a Tomoe leading a double life, you suppose, just as the Venger family played the part of loyal vassals while scheming behind the scenes. You shudder a little, thinking about just how far the family has spread its reach, how deeply it has embedded itself in the unsuspecting body of polite society.

“Your sister...” Kalthos adds, his voice growing strangely sad – almost sincere.

“What about her?”

“She clearly has no wish to speak with me, and I can't say that I blame her, but perhaps... I could leave a message for her,” the old man suggests, “Even if I have to write her a note, I can leave it somewhere I know that she'll find it. I only hope she can read my handwriting!”

As Kalthos laughs to himself, you consider the idea. There's a part of you, a jealous, possessive part of you, that recoils at the thought of him having ANY contact with her. But, trying to be objective about it, this might be your best chance at sending her a message.

>There's no need. I'll be with her soon enough
>Tell her that it's safe. Tell her that she can come home now
>Tell her that I'm coming to find her. She should wait, and stay hidden
>Tell her... (Write in)
>Other

>That aside, I have other questions... (Write in)
>>
>>6108645
>Tell her that I'm looking for her. Whether she trusts you or not, she'll probably believe that much.
I don't think we should control her actions when we don't know her deal.

>I notice that for how old you are, you're not carrying a cartful of odds and ends.
>Ask if he knows a Strix
>>
>>6108645
>>6108646
+1
Write in and extras are perfect
>>
>>6108646
+1
>>
>>6108645
>That aside, I have other questions... (Write in)
Does he think Cato could be looking for our sister?

And on that note would it be worth it to tip Cato off to the fact he is / was being observed.

Separately it may also be worth something to some one to close the "loophole" that Ymir used, as an investigation may reveal other discrepancies with the lists and so leads to follow up as there may be other unaccounted for aliases.
>>
>>6108645
>>6108646
+1

I'd also add:
>What do you know about Juno and the Triumph of the Tomoe?
He does seem to know about her given his comment about impressing her.
>>
>>6108654
>>6108645

As an additional question, asking where he thinks she could be found seems like a good idea, as far as we know the 4th layer is as far as she could have reached, assuming things haven't gone sideways.

Also it could serve as a counterpoint to the Kings original claim of Father only reaching the 4th Layer
>>
“Just tell her that I'm looking for her,” you tell Kalthos, “Whether she trusts you or not, she'll believe that much – and she'll know what to do with that knowledge.”

“Very well,” Kalthos replies with a slow nod, “I dearly hope that she gets my message, my young apprentice. And next time you visit us, I hope you'll get the answer you're hoping for.”

You remain silent for a moment, waiting for some barb or jibe to follow this, but none come. As improbably as it might seem, he really does seem to be wishing you well.

“Thank you,” you say eventually, only for Kalthos to wave away your gratitude. “Is it possible that I'm not the only one looking for her?” you add, “That young man you saw earlier...”

“He didn't seem like he was looking for anyone. Men on the search have a certain character to them, like hunting hounds. Not him,” Kalthos grins, “No barking or snarling from him. No no. Not him.”

That's a small mercy, at least. You're not sure what Cato might do if he stumbled across Gratia in here, but you'd rather not find out. “You said you know where she might be found,” you ask next, “Can I ask where that is?”

“She often returns to the fourth layer, to the spot where the old man died. Ghoulish, really,” the old fiend remarks with a cruel laugh, “I've seen her there, kneeling down beside him. Waiting, as if he'll get up at any minute. Maybe I'll pin the note to his cold chest, just to make sure that she sees it!”

It takes a strength of will not to reach out and throttle the old man, but you slowly cool your temper. “I noticed something, actually,” you continue through gritted teeth, moving on with the conversation, “For how old you are, you don't seem to have gathered many... items.”

“Like those trinkets you're hoarding?” Kalthos counters, “Ah, those are only one way to advance through the Demesne. You scavenge Lessons that others have learned, while I've spent many long years cultivating Lessons of my own.”

“Heh heh heh... What's that expression for?” he adds, chuckling to himself, “I meant no offence by it. You've chosen the smart path, my young pup – you don't have the time to meditate for days and nights on end, do you?”

“No. I don't,” you concede, “I fear there's a danger looming, and I don't have time to wait for it to arrive. Tell me, Kalthos. Do you know the name Strix?”

Kalthos purses his lips as he thinks. “On the cusp of sleep, I've heard that name whispered through these halls,” he murmurs, “Those nights, I never have pleasant dreams. I wouldn't say that name here, if you know what's good for you. I wouldn't say that name ANYWHERE, actually. Not here, not outside, Not anywhere.”

It might be a little too late for that.

[1]
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>>6108668

Having said this, Kalthos looks so grim and fearful that you feel compelled to change the subject. “You mentioned a redhead,” you say tactfully, “You mean Juno, don't you? The Triumph of the Tomoe... how do you know about her?”

“I have my sources,” Kalthos answers with a secretive wink, “A fine girl, no? And the Triumph, well, that story was old even when I was young. A little bit of foolishness for the young to latch onto. It's easier to bear a life of constant strife and suffering if you have a great shining hope to look forwards to, is it not? Whether that hope ever arrives or not, well, that's another question!”

He lets out a nasty laugh, then an explosive cough.

“There is an inherent paradox present in House Tomoe – you spend your entire life struggling to upend the very same system that allows you to exist. I realised the ultimate futility of it all, and I left. The girl is on the cusp of realising it too,” Kalthos muses, “I wonder what she'll do when she does...”

Lapsing into silence here, Kalthos stares off into space as he thinks to himself. His eyes grow dull, a faint confusion seeping into his features. Turning away from you, he shuffles away into the Demesne. You hesitate, watching as he ambles away around a corner and vanishes.

You let him leave.

-

Kalthos' words still ring through your head as you wander through the Demesne, heading for the Sovereignty seal to see what awaits you within. Passing through, a smirk forms on your lips as you study the scene laid out before you – an ornate stone plinth topped with a plush pillow of faded red velvet. Sitting upon all that grandeur is a tiny sliver of metal – a single bullet.

Picking up the bullet, you recall one of your lessons on military history from Coral House. In the space of a single generation, men went from marching into battle with swords and longbows to using modern military rifles – all thanks to the rapid development carried out by the brilliant minds of House Phalaris. Since then, since their disappearance, that progress has slowed to a crawl.

Maybe it's for the best. Who knows what kind of war machines the Phalaris would have created, if they were still around today?

-

Descending to the third layer of the Demesne, you're immediately struck by the sheer size of the hall you enter into. Human hands have never built a hall as vast and grand as this, so grand in scale that you can barely see the far end. Worse than the size, somehow, is how blank it all is – the hall is almost entirely featureless, save for the white stone columns placed through the hall in regular intervals. You stand in the entrance for a long time, struggling to decide exactly what it is about the hall that so unnerves you.

It's how inhuman the whole thing is – men couldn't built something as large as this, and if they could they would never leave it so empty and unused.

[2/3]
>>
>>6108680

Aside from the size, the third layer feels different from the layers above. Older, somehow. The stone is a slightly darker shade of grey, as if fine dust has been ground into the recesses. There's a faint sound too, a distant scraping noise like something heavy being dragged across stone. You don't see anything moving, but there could easily be Denizens in hiding somewhere.

With your guard raised, you set off into the vast hall. Every echoing footstep causes you to wince, wondering what else might be able to hear you as you press deeper into the empty white. It doesn't take long for the sight of the great distance around you to give you a headache, a growing sense of dizziness and disorientation. Bracing yourself against one of the stone pillars and taking a breath, you glance around as a louder sound reaches you.

Ahead, a Denizen emerges from a narrow tunnel and shambles into the vast hall. It walks with a clumsy gait, occasionally pausing to shudder and tremble fore moving onwards. You don't get a good look at it, but even a distance glance at the face causes your stomach to lurch with disgust. More than ever before, the Denizen has a wretched unfinished look to it, as if its face was crudely sculpted from damp clay and left to droop.

When the Denizen lurches out of sight, you let out a low sigh of relief before casting a longing glance back to the stairs up.

>You need to press on, to find the entrance to the next layer if nothing else
>There might be more secrets hidden away here. A thorough search is required
>You've gone far enough for today. You need to get out of here, immediately
>Other
>>
>>6108683
>You need to press on, to find the entrance to the next layer if nothing else

What could go wrong.
>>
>>6108683
Did we just wander into medieval/early-industrial Blame! or something?
Also I'm getting the impression the further down in layers the more unrefined the Denizens will look. Come on Isambard, remember the Martense statue degeneration... What does it mean that the same might be happening here? Or maybe it's backwards where further from the end the Denizens become more human... Have Denizens ever escaped the Demesne at all? Or are the humans we know echoes of these instead of the other way around?
...Better to not think of this now.
>You need to press on, to find the entrance to the next layer if nothing else
>>
>>6108683
>You've gone far enough for today. You need to get out of here, immediately
I hate this place
Wish we could burn in down
>>
>>6108686
We find the way to the next layer, learn the route, then we explore for more secrets (and loot!)
>>
>>6108683
>Compare these Denizens to the Martenses
>You need to press on, to find the entrance to the next layer if nothing else
We could in theory use Calamity to blunder through all the low level seals and loot them, but I don't think now is the time for that.
>>
Looking back to the vast hall stretching out before you, you feel your resolve harden. If what Kalthos is saying is true, Gratia could be just one single layer below you. You might not be able to reach her just yet, but you have to know for sure. If you can forge ahead and find the entrance to the next layer, you can plan your next moves properly. There may be more secrets waiting in the outskirts, but those can wait until next time.

Dearly wishing that you had your sword with you, you continue through the hall. Occasionally, very occasionally, you see something that looks like a window set in the far wall, although the view outside shows nothing but a milky white glow. Eventually the temptation grows too great, and you make a diversion to examine one of the “windows” up close. It's not glass at all, no matter what it looks like. It's rough under your fingertips, no different to the stone surrounding it. Just one more imperfect imitation.

How anyone could see this labyrinth as a holy place is a mystery to you.

-

You don't know how long you're walking for, but eventually you find the far wall drawing close. In the centre, it narrows to a tighter corridor – although even that is so wide that two carriages could ride through it side by side without touching. You pause here, staring towards the next seal with disgust. About half a dozen of the Denizens linger here, swaying in place as they stare blankly with heads askew.

At least the wide corridor gives you plenty of room to move around them. Small mercies and all that.

As much as you try to avoid looking at the Denizens, you catch a few glimpses of their grotesque faces – you see crooked rows of teeth emerging through half-formed lips, and eyes drooping halfway down the face. The deeper you go, the more degraded the Denizens seem. It reminds you, in a way, of the degeneration that swallowed up the true Martense line. Maybe it's something similar here – higher up, the Demesne can “sample” real humans and create a more accurate replica. Lower down, the Denizens are copies of copies of...

Thrusting that thought aside, you finally arrive at the sealed exit and rest your forehead against the cold stone. You can feel it tremor slightly, testing your will, but the seal remains intact.

[Attain the Ninth Lesson to descend further, pilgrim]

You pull your head back in a jolt of motion. That felt... different to the seals above. Almost as if a voice was whispering into your mind. Shaking your head in unease, you step back from the door and start the long walk back towards the entrance.

Nine Lessons. That's not much of a stretch, you don't think.

Not long now.

[1]
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>>6108707
what are we at now?

2
2
5
1
3
3

With Calamity 3? It's only not much because we're making full use of Calamity, and I'm not sure that's a good idea.
>>
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>>6108713
>Our highest stat, Calamity included, gets us to 8. So we'd need either a single dot of Insight or Calamity to move forwards
>>
>>6108707

Fatigue drags at your limbs as you finally arrive back in the “normal” world. It always feels like this, as if the true weight of your exertions in the Demesne only really sink in once you return to the surface. Leaning against the wall and taking a few deep breaths, you numbly take the weapons you're given. When you've recovered some of your strength, you return to the main entrance and spot Elle waiting on a low bench. At the opposite end of the room, Cato sits and reads a book.

“Isambard!” Elle whispers, leaping to her feet when she sees you arrive, “I was starting to get worried!”

“It's a lot larger in there than I thought,” you admit, “I hope you weren't too bored.”

“Actually, I got a lot of work done,” she answers, shaking her head, “The guards keep a sort of, um, visitor book here. A record of everyone granted access to the Demesne and, in some cases, the depths they reached. I had the chance to look through it, and I noticed a few patterns. Firstly, Master Sakhalin was correct – most of the names were from House Silvera, or families allied with them.”

“Did you see Amadeus Silvera on the list?” you ask.

“Um, yes. I think so. It didn't say which layer he reached, though,” Elle frowns a little as she thinks back, “Why do you ask?”

“I'll tell you later,” you assure her quickly, glancing over to Cato. It doesn't look like he's eavesdropping, but...

“Well, ah, okay. What was the second thing?” the oracle taps a slender finger against her lips, “Oh yes. Most of the names listed seemed to reach the fourth or fifth layers, but no further. I don't think I saw any that went lower than that, and quite a few that stopped in the early levels. I wonder if there's some... obstacle, some challenge ahead of you. That aside, there was one other thing. Um...”

Taking you lightly by the arm, Elle leads you away from the main hall. Glancing around to make doubly sure that you're alone, she finally continues. “A few entries in the book had been deleted,” she whispers to you, “Completely covered up with black ink. I don't... quite know what to make of that.”

“Maybe it's like Yulia Phalaris,” you recall, “Sakhalin said that she explored the Demesne, but the powers that be don't like people talking about it. You know, after what happened to the House.”

“Mm, maybe. I didn't see her name anywhere in the book,” Elle nods slowly, “So perhaps it was deleted. If so, all the other names-”

“Other people who became politically inconvenient,” you finish for her.

“Ugh. I hate talking about this sort of stuff,” Elle admits, “It makes me feel so... dirty. Do you want to head out? We should probably hurry back to the estate, see if there's any important news.”

>I'm ready to leave. Let's go
>There's something else while we're here... (Write in)
>Other
>>
>>6108721
>There's something else while we're here... (Write in)
Cato has absolutely found our Father's Body at some point; hasn't he His opening comment was that "we" Pale's look similar., see if he is willing to describe its location, if he can.
>>
>>6108721
>Ask Cato how he is able to navigate the third layer
Bard's more noticeably feeling unwell at that point. Could be possible we really do need Kalthos' poison since I don't think we drank it this time, or at least it wasn't mentioned. I imagine Cato isn't chugging poison though so he either has some other alternative to mitigate it or he just powers through it like Bard basically did.

>>6108730
This as well. I'd also like to ask Elle about the most recent visitors, but it's probably better to save that in private instead of openly discussing who might have killed our father in public.
>>
>>6108721
>There's something else while we're here... (Write in)
Yeah ask Cato what he's seen (dad) + tips
>>
“Before we go, I just want to have a quick word with Master Silvera,” you tell Elle, “It won't take long... I hope.”

“Well, I'll leave you to do the talking,” she replies, forcing a slight smile onto her face.

Elle falls in behind you as you march back to the main hall, heading straight up to Cato and raising a hand in greeting. He hurriedly tucks his book away as you approach, but not before you catch a fleeting glimpse of the cover – some swashbuckling adventure tale, by the looks of it. No wonder he was so quick to hide the thing.

“Master Silvera,” you begin, “I'm a little surprised that you're still here.”

“My father was due to arrive here today. I intend to meet with him, then head back to the capital together,” Cato answers, “Even if I have to wait all day, it's no hardship. I like the quiet here. How were your explorations in the Demesne?”

“Challenging,” you admit, sitting beside him on the bench, “That third layer is a tricky one.”

“Yes, it is,” Cato agrees with the slightest hint of a grim smile, “Fortunately, I have a secret weapon.” Reaching into his pocket, the young man takes out an elegant wooden case. Snapping it open, he takes out a pair of spectacles with coal black lenses. “Of course, they do make it somewhat harder to see,” he admits, “But that is an aid, as much as it is a burden. I find the third layer to be somewhat disorientating without them. It's too much... white.”

“Looks like I'll have to do some shopping on the way home,” you remark, although you really wonder if the glasses would do any good. What you felt in that place was more than just a dizzy spell. “I wanted to ask you about the next layer as well. The fourth,” you continue, lowering your voice a little, “Could you... tell me what you've seen there?”

Cato turns to look at you for a long moment, his mouth drawing into a tight line. He looks pained, somehow. “I saw a body there,” he admits at last, “I believe it to be the body of your father. When I found it, it was covered by a sheet. My curiosity got the better of me, and I took a look at the face. Please understand, I wouldn't normally disturb a corpse in such a way but...”

“It's not normal, finding a body in the Demesne.”

“Exactly,” Cato nods, “But you can trust my discretion, Master Pale. I have no interest in spreading gossip or rumours.”

Closing your eyes, you take a long breath. “Tell me more,” you murmur, “Tell me more about the layer.”

“The fourth layer is a true labyrinth, the very antithesis of the layer above. I fear that it would be very easy to get lost within it,” the silver-haired young man explains, “There are a great many rooms throughout the corridors, almost all of them empty. I found... your father in one such room. It would have been a very lonely place to die. I'm... sorry.”

[1]
>>
>>6108746

“If you are able to enter the fourth layer, and wish to... visit your father, you should stick as close to the left side of the labyrinth as possible. That will lead you to his resting place as easily as possible,” Cato explains, closing his eyes as if picturing the route in his mind, “The seal leading down to the fifth layer is almost directly opposite your entrance, although there is no direct route.”

“And the Denizens?”

“Is that what you call them? I like it. It's a fitting name,” Cato nods slowly, “I didn't see any of them in the fourth layer, although I think I heard them at times. Footsteps within the labyrinth, sometimes even the sound of heavy breathing. Of course, it could have been a trick of the mind, or a distraction cast out by the Demesne itself. It will try that.”

“There was one time when I saw one of the... the Denizens that wore a familiar face,” he continues, “It looked like my grandfather. The resemblance was so uncanny that I almost lost my nerve. But remember, Master Pale. The Demesne tests us, tests our faith and our resolve. The unworthy masses might allow themselves to be misled, but we must rise above.”

“The... unworthy masses?” you repeat, raising a sceptical eyebrow. The words sound ugly and unexpected coming from him, like finding a razor in a dish of rose petals.

“Ah, forgive me. A turn of phrase I heard recently, and I've been thinking about it a lot. I don't care for it,” Cato shakes his head, “But it's easy to slip into such thinking, doing the things we do. We are, after all, part of a very select group of people. Even so, we shouldn't forget our duty to society at large.”

“And what would you say your duty is, Master Silvera,” Elle asks quietly, studying the young man with wary eyes.

Cato looks to the oracle, slightly bowing his head in a show of respect. “To protect the natural order, Miss Legrasse,” he answers, “From any attempts at subverting it or changing it by force.”

>I'm going to pause here for today before I yap on too much. I'll be continuing this next Saturday, assuming no changes to schedule
>Thank you for playing along today!
>>
>>6108765
Thanks for running!

How long has dad been dead in there? Is the Demesne keeping his body preserved?
>>
>>6108780
I'm horrible at keeping track of time, so I'm not sure how long it's been. A lot of natural processes are suspended within the Demesne, though - like Kalthos, who has grown very old within it. Just try not to think about what might happen if he left the Demesne
>>
>>6108790
Instant mummification
>>
>>6108790
Like Black Adam in Superman/Shazam from 2010...

>>6108765
Thanks for running!



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