"Captain...?" Keseberg finally spoke, trying to ascertain what was now happening.
Fallensteller gently shushed him as the pages fluttered between the covers, matching with her inner feelings and bringing about the desired knowledge. Hidden within the page, the script began to reveal itself as she took up a bit of Taube's blood, still fresh from the wound on her arm, and pressed it into the paper. Closing her eyes, she experienced serenity which was difficult to put into words, the necessary steps appearing to her in sudden bursts of inspiration. With her free hand, she picked a scalpel off the floor before taking Taube by her collar and dragging her across the floor toward the black puddle left behind by the Reverend's demise. Once again taking up the ink, she drew a careful pattern around Taube and whispered as she worked- strange, unknown words which felt meaningful on her lips, and yet escaped her conscience and memory the moment they escaped as sound.
As the intricate circle was finished, Fallensteller used the scalpel to leave three nicks to Taube's body- one to the back of the neck, and one each on the backs of her wrists, before laying her flat on her back with her arms outstretched on either side. She took up one more palm's worth of the pitch-dark fluid and held it above the woman's head. "Dost Incarnata, Kasimira Taube," she uttered in a slithering voice, clenching her hand into a fist as she turned it over. The now-familiar violet fire engulfed her hand painlessly and dripped with the ink upon Taube's forehead, creating a spotlight upon the ghastly ritual for all present to see. And with a start, the dead body seemed to stiffen, mouth open in wordless horror as its eyes rolled back in agony, until it relaxed once more and stared straight ahead in the dying light of the arcane fire.
"What... what did you just do?" Keseberg asked, no longer able to see.
Fallensteller ignored him once more, infatuated instead with the creature she had bestowed undeath upon. "Miss Taube, please take my hand," she commanded, and a pale hand reached up to meet her own. The Captain lifted her to her feet before embracing her, utterly indifferent to the coldness, the lack of presence, and the total lack of understanding or appreciation from the creature. Its only function was to listen and obey. "I told you," Fallensteller whispered in her ear. "You are perfect, meine kleine Marionette."
At that moment, Pawlitzky pulled open the doors- a powerful gust of wind left the room, ruffling Fallensteller's jacket and kicking up paper and other small debris as it carried the biting chill and, seemingly, the shadows themselves of the hospital interior into the hall. The few terrified sailors who had stayed despite Pawlitzky's warnings turned and fled up the hall, screaming, so horrified by what they had witnessed that their minds struggled to expunge the details for the sake of their own sanity. Only the faithful servants of Raum stood their ground and looked upon the devastation within with naked realism. Mesahri observed the bloody display and the mangled bodies of the spirit's victims, turned, and vomited. Keseberg's jaw dropped as he stared into the vacant expression on Taube's face.
Pawlitzky and Fallensteller locked eyes. This was not the time for questions; the answers would come once the peril of the situation had passed. Fallensteller was no fool, even if she had been caught in the moment, the mess she had created would very likely become her undoing unless she took the exact measures needed to suppress the truth. "Lieutenant, I'm about to place this whole ship under curfew. You and your men will sweep all the decks and make sure that the crewmen and women are in their bunk rooms. We cannot allow them to communicate with each other at this hour nor see what's happened here."
"Right away, Captain," Pawlitzky answered, grimly.
Fallensteller quickly walked over to the hospital's phone line to the radio room. Before picking up the earpiece, she turned to Dr. Keseberg. "We still have three others needing blood transfusions. Give them only what they need."
"Y-you brought her back from the dead," Keseberg stuttered.
Fallensteller glared at him. "No, I didn't. Not all that moves is alive, Doctor."
Keseberg hesitated a moment, uncertain of what the Captain meant by that remark. He resolved to stop speaking and get back to work.
"Oh... and Miss Taube, clean up this mess," she added before calling in the curfew order.
Mesahri turned away, stumbling back out into the hall and burying her face in her hands, wanting to scream at the knowledge that she was tied to such a disgusting display, linked to the carnage inseparably by the cut on her arm. A moment later, Fallensteller and the others emerged and found her there, shivering.
"What is she doing here?" the Captain asked.
Pawlitzky attempted to explain that in the confusion, he had brought the bat along out of the base assumption that Fallensteller would want her present, and thought nothing of it as Mesahri was a fellow servant.
"Hmph," Fallensteller replied. "Well, just as well... she ought to get hers while we have her here."
Mesahri looked up fearfully as Pawlitzky knelt down in front of her, reaching around her neck and positioning a red ribbon, a type normally used to classify the wounded in triage situations by severity, across her throat before tying it snugly. All of the other servants were wearing the same red ribbons around their arms. "This'll show that you have a right to be out and about during curfew. It's gonna be a permanent policy," the Lieutenant explained.
"Why my neck?" Mesahri questioned, her exasperation practically overflowing.
Fallensteller let out a single, cynical laugh. "Haw. Dear, it looks cute on you."
Mesahri's heart withered in her chest.
A collar.
---
Neustadt arrived by boat during the cleanup effort. Schuster, now fully informed on the situation, gave a brief explanation to Silke as he hurried her back to her quarters. She would not be permitted to see her friends in engineering until the following day, nor communicate with the Captain, who was entirely too busy for her at the moment. She seethed at the indignity but accepted their terms, as even though she had been betrayed, she knew that her own fate was now tied to Sabine's and that it would be unwise to protest in such a fragile situation. In her own quarters, however, she tore the drawers out of her own dresser, attacking the furniture and clothing itself in a fruitless attempt to expend her own rage. She fell into the sheets, sickened with it all, and sustained herself on thoughts of gouging out Sabine's red eyes in revenge (and, more ashamedly, thoughts of crazed, violent sex with the same woman). She finally crossed her forehead and forced herself to turn out the light.
The ship's crew would eventually be informed that Lieutenant Weber, the ship's acting Chief Technical Officer, had been an affiliate of Raum and a traitor to the fleet. In the course of an evil ritual, he had managed to summon a demon which wreaked havoc on the ship's hospital, with the intent to kill Raum's most stalwart enemy: Reverend Pfeiffer. Only through the brave actions of Lieutenant Pawlitzky and a few gallant officers and riflemen was the situation brought back under control.
Most were able to accept the story. It seemed that evil was all around the Zuflucht, anyone could be a traitor in disguise. They were preoccupied with mourning the loss of their spiritual leader, and trying to fill the void left behind in the absence of his reassurances and wisdom. Most blamed Fallensteller, albeit in an indirect way. Few, perhaps only those who had glimpsed into that hideous room at the moment Pawlitzky forced open the doors, could even grasp the threat posed by their own leader. But there was one who wasn't there who simply couldn't ignore his doubts and his conscience any longer: the Helmsman, Lieutenant Kirsch.
---
Fallensteller returned to her quarters with Kasimira, whom she had taken to calling by her first name as often as she called her 'Miss Taube," a few hours after the incident. No longer allowed to be seen during the day, Kasimira would spend her nights in the Captain's quarters, keeping watch while the Captain slept. Settling into her bed as she considered her plans for the following day, Fallensteller clicked her tongue a few times, and Russpfote slinked out from behind the mirror to join her for the night.
Night had long since fallen and the hours ticked on slowly as the moon rose up high overhead. Even with the dying of the light, the excitement around the fleet carried on, be it clandestine meetings, dark rituals, or monotonous tasks typical to the usual schedule. This sea was a strange and terrible place, and yet they had barely scratched the surface so far. Spirits and gods weren't as far away as many thought, and their influences weaved their way into the lives of ordinary sailors and interesting officers.
For some, the night dragged on a little longer. Yarah-kei obediently kept beside Jager and stayed with him all night until it was time to turn in after their dealing with Captain Fontaine. Likewise, others in the fleet wrapped up their business before too long. Sleep came for all eventually. For some, it was the calming embrace of oblivion, while for others it was a window into another world.
Sweet Dreams
Varadi
The waterways of the Novbary river were dreary and morbid. It was a wide, fat, and lazy river with shallow banks that flooded even with a light rain. The mud flats stretched on for nearly a hundred meters in either direction, sometimes even farther in some locations. Moss, marsh grass, and reeds were about the only things that survived in this ugly terrain. It was one of the few rivers in which almost no town risked being near its banks, except for the lower sections of the river where the ground was firmer. But that was in Kalevala. Out here in the borderlands between Ungria and Pavlovia, it was mostly flat countryside and some rolling hills. Flooding was common here, and in no small thanks to the Novbary. Only barges could manage their way down the shallow and wide river, as anything with a deep hull risked getting stuck in the muddy underbelly of the river. Plenty of old ships, dead piers, and derelict barges littered the shores of Novbary and the subsequent muddy flats. It was hard to say how many men had fallen victim to the mud and disappeared into it.
What was he doing all the way out here? As far as he could tell, he wasn't near any of the few bridges which crossed the Novbary. All the rest had sunken or collapsed from the poor ground. It wasn't a spot for vacation, thats for sure. The air stank and the only worth the Novbary offered was crab and oysters. He couldn't hear any guns, so there wasn't any fighting nearby as far as he could tell, though here he stood in his uniform, looking out across the river and into Pavlovia. It looked the same as it did over here.
"Can you believe it? An entire company of men wasted, all on the pride of a puffed up noble who thought he could tame the Novbary," a figure beside him said. He glanced over and looked the man over, but couldn't discern much about him. The man was dressed in an Ungrian uniform, though without any insignia. His collar was up high and his forage cap pulled low, hiding his face, though it seemed to have been masked in shadow anyways. Even as the figure turned and looked around, he couldn't make out his features.
"I wonder how many of them drowned in these muddy waters, cursing the name of our great empire for failing them. How many do you think struggled in vain to swim to the shores and crawl through the muck to dry land, only to fall to exhaustion and become feed for the crabs? Too many, I say. Ungria has been poisoned from within. Mindless nobility who don't know our plight, the plight of the soldiers of Ungria. The men and women who uphold and protect our borders, our values, every day from the Pavlovians who would gleefully build a bridge here over the bodies of their own dead, just to march into our lands to rape it." The man had a solid point - Ungria was damaged from the incompetence of their noble officers, despite the pedigree of the common soldiery. And Pavlovia was an insatiable beast, always licking its wounds until its next attack. They never seemed to falter.
"If only we had a leader. A real one, not a cripple who chases after the dreams of better days. A leader who looks to our future and can meet the eye of the men under his command with the understanding only forged from battle. Someone with experience of modern war, and an honorable name. Not paper and plaster war heroes who are posted on the street lamps to entertain the urchins who run and tumble in the gutter."
"You know who should be in command," the man said almost slyly, and Varadi could hear the grin on the man's face, even as the cold wind picked up and tugged at his jacket. "These wars will never end. Each victory is starting to look closer and closer to defeat. With the royals and nobles at the helm, they'll drive us into the mud under the lash and cry foul when we drag them down with us. They've done enough damage to us. Its time, my Emperor, to lead Ungria to victory over Pavlovia and the continents... once and for all."
The wind picked up again but quickly died down. When Varadi looked over at the man once more, he was gone. In his place was a sword planted into the mud, its silver blade pristine until it reached the brackish brown muck. It wasn't of Ungrian make, and looked somewhat archaic. The blade was curved and the hilt was just leather, possible snake or turtle hide. He walked over to it and removed it from the ground easily, taking its balanced weight into his hands.
A single word was inscribed on the blade right above the hilt, and the inscription flashed in his eye. As soon as he read it, he knew exactly who he needed to talk to to ensure his... no, Ungria's, future was secure.
Raum.
Von Strauss
Lieutenant Von Strauss awoke to some familiar giggling. Her eyes snapped wide open and at the edge of her bed was the little masked doll, teetering back and forth in glee. Veritas.
"Hi, hi, hi!" He said cheerfully, clambering to his feet. "I was beginning to think you were out for good! All you people are so sleepy. I wanted to say hi to everyone, but so many people are asleep. Even Mister Krantz is asleep, though his very nice lady friend is awake. Sorta. Demons are weird!"
His vigor and excitement was contagious. It was always impossible to tell how long she had been asleep, but any drowsiness she felt was always gone when talking with Veritas. It almost felt like she was a child again, with no real concerns plaguing her mind, with no responsibility or pressure of command. She was just as eager to talk to the doll as he was to her, and finally she asked some questions which had been in her mind for a while now. She hardly knew anything about him.
"I think a play is in order!" Veritas declared loudly. He jumped off the bed and landed easily on the floor, turning his momentum into a somersault as he carried on merrily to the center of the room where, to her surprise, a small stage had already been set up. Perfectly sized for a doll of his stature. It was just a simple platform with some velvet red curtains obscuring the side, and little candle lights illuminated the stage. Veritas climbed on to it and displayed himself proudly, and a tiny unseen audience clapped and cheered.
"The good lady ponders the past! It was a time of monsters and heroes, of glory and death!" The little crowd cheered again. "Like any good theater, we shall start - at the beginning!"
Von Strauss' vision blackened and she felt her body go numb and without feeling. She didn't feel panicked at all as Veritas began the narration to a story, and she could see other little dolls step onto the miniature stage. Her vision darkened even further and she fell back softly onto her bed...
---
The young man cried out once more as another boot kicked him in the ribs, followed by another to his back and a third to his knees. He continued to writhe and yelp with every heavy kick and stomp before the assault finally and mercifully ended. There were four attackers gathered around him, hands on their hips in authoritative fashion. All wore the same grey and bronze tunics, heavy chest plates, and leather arm and leg bracers. Three wore simple steel helmets which had a T-shaped visor, while the fourth was a woman with their hair tied up in a tight bun. She spat down at the man on the ground before delivering another kick with her pointed boot to his stomach, causing him to splutter once more.
The victim on the ground wore a simple set of white robes with black lining, which were now torn, wrinkled, and smeared with the dirt and filth which had been heaped upon him. His hair was unkempt and hung low over his face, which was covered in a simple white theater mask that had two wide eyes and an elegant grin. It was the only part of him which seemed to remain pristine, somehow. Blood and spit oozed out from beneath the chin, but the facade remained clean.
"Fuckin' clown," the woman without the helmet sneered. "Are you deaf, or illiterate?"
The only response she got was an exhausted groan from the man on the ground. She kicked him again.
"N-neither, justiciar," he coughed up. He took in a deep, wheezing breath, his arms wrapped around his stomach.
"Oh? I figured it had to be one or the other, since you clearly disregarded our Lady Apocrypha's decrees. The fact that you neither heard our numerous readings of the law, or saw any of the posts on the amphitheaters, makes me believe that your failure to comply was not a mistake, as you so desperately claim. You thought yourself above the law. You thought yourself above Apocrypha's orders," the justiciar said with a snarl, though she didn't kick him this time.
"You worthless sodomites are all the same. You peddle your corruption to the public under the guise of colored dresses and crude masks. Our Lady has seen through your clever disguise, and we won't tolerate your filth any longer. These lands are without civil war, and they will remain so. But if you vermin had your way, we would all fall to the torch like all the other lawless cretins which surround Our Lady's domain. We will stand strong and overcome."
The scene had gathered a small crowd, who were watching from a safe distance outside the town gate. A few wagons continued to squeak by, but other townsfolk and travelers were drawn to this display. The justiciars seemed to welcome and thrive with the attention.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you!" The woman said with a roar, turning to behold this crowd behind her. "Lady Apocrypha is our lord and savior and will be obeyed under every circumstance! The corruption of outsiders will be stopped, and all who stand in the way of her word will be punished!"
She turned and pointed to one of her compatriots. "Jorman, give me the hammer and nails."
The man handed them over and then stepped over to the actor laying on the ground, who was trying to crawl away weakly. He and another held the man's arms down to keep him from moving, while the woman justiciar with the hammer stepped over and straddled the masked actor.
"Your mask is a clear affront to Our Lady's decrees, and it sickens me to see it. Lets see if we can break it."
She angled one nail against the forehead of the mask and then began to hammer it down. The mask did not crack, and the nail instead pierced through. The man wearing it let out an awful, drawn out scream as the nail was driven through the mask and into his head.
"Sturdier than I thought. Maybe it will crack somewhere else?" She placed another nail on the mask, this time on his cheek, and once more hammered it through. Again, more wretched screaming, but the man was growing even weaker as blooded seeped out around the nails which had been driven through the mask, pinning it to his face. The justiciar seemed displeased that the mask didn't break with the nails, though having it pinned to his face in such a fashion seemed like a suitable punishment in her eyes, for she drove four more nails into his face. Not once did the mask crack or shatter, though now it was finally stained with blood. The actor was shaking violently now and couldn't utter a noise.
The justiciar, out of nails, stood up and gestured towards the gutter alongside the dirt track which led into the town. "Toss the filth in where it belongs. The crows will get to him soon enough."
Without a word, the other three justiciars pulled the man through the dirt and rolled him into the muddy and trash filled gutter. He couldn't bring himself to move, and so he simply laid there, facing the dirt road as people walked by. Some couldn't stand to look at him, while others looked him over with fear and terror. A couple grinned smugly and pointed him out, while most simply ignored him. Night had fallen and some wild dogs sniffed at him, but carried on as he was still just barely alive. It wasn't until early the next morning that a lone traveler finally stopped beside him.
This traveler, dressed in somber black robes and armor, had three swords of varying length at their hip. Their clothing was certainly foreign, and for a warrior they had surprisingly long black hair, tied up into a clean and simple ponytail. And for that matter, they seemed remarkably young.
"Who's that?" A girl asked, dressed similarly to the boy. She came into view and stood beside him, peering down at the actor. "I thought he was dead until I saw his eyes."
"So did I," the boy said uneasily. "Looks like the justiciar's work. They're the only ones around who are bold enough to leave someone in the open like this."
The actor gasped loudly, startling the boy and girl. He could barely lift his arm up, but as he did it began to shake as violently as a leaf caught in the wind.
"Come on, Valentina, we can't leave him like this. Help me pull him out."
Together, the pair stepped into the watery and filth-ridden gutter to pull out the actor. He was about the same height as both of them, and wearing only robes he weighed little. They easily pulled him out and without concern to the filth that was now splattered on them, carried him towards the town gate, ignoring the disapproving glares of the watchmen around them.
((Post BREAK))
Sweet Dreams - Continued...
Dobbs
Today had been... troubling, to say the least. Fallensteller had eluded the accusations which he had levied upon her on Ackermann's behalf, and he may have made a fool of himself. The admiral was understanding, thankfully, but it was hard to imagine everyone else felt the same way. After all, many didn't just disagree with him - but actively sided with Fallensteller. It was a concerning matter, especially all the more so since he had failed. That devilish Fallensteller would be prepared next time to deal with more accusations, and if there was a next time, he had to be absolutely certain in his position to win.
Music was a soothing way to end the day. He hadn't been playing his violin as much recently with his duties, but he needed it tonight. It was therapeutic to play. There were not many moments in his life where he could allow his mind and heart to flutter together and away to distant lands, careless of the world around him and without all the stress and fear. The music healed his soul, and soon enough he felt as if he was floating on the clouds above proud Albion.
At some point - he didn't know how long it had been - he had placed his violin away and crawled into bed. Sleep came easily to him, especially after that much needed session of song. He didn't realize that he had forgotten the most soothing method of all before bed - crossing himself with blood to protect his dreams.
---
The Queen's Imperial Theater was one of, if not the, most magnificent theater in all of Albion. Not only had it been under the patronage of the crown for centuries, but it was the only premier theater in which the queen - or king - consistently attended. Some argued that the cramped pub stages were the purest forms of Albion theater, or even the outside bush groves where the ancients had acted out their first plays, but the Queen's Imperial was certainly the most fabulous and enchanting. Nothing compared to the splendor of the gold and silver gilded walls, colorful silk and velvet curtains, and masterfully crafted sculptures which inhabited the playhouse as if they were guardian spirits. The entire ceiling of the concert hall was simply a masterpiece mural of the Angels of Albion, sitting upon the clouds and looking benevolently down upon all men and women alike, be they noble or peasant. Of course, no peasant could hope to set foot in the Queen's Imperial. The penny sections remained in the pubs or people's theaters. Only the finest of Albion society, the absolute royal or rich, could ever hope to step in.
As a decorated admiral and nobleman of Albion, Dobbs of course had an invitation to attend the Royal Symphony on their opening night. The hall was filled to the brim with handsome men, pretty ladies, and proud officers. Cigar smoke followed the bulbous bankers in their bowler hats wherever they went, and if you were lucky you might get one as a gift if any of the bankers were feeling generous enough - or simply drunk already. Royal footmen lined the halls near the royal boxes where the queen was staying for the evening.
When everyone had settled into their seat, the orchestra had gathered and made a salute to the queen, along with the rest of the attendees. Dobbs could make her out through the smokey haze of pipes and cigars easily enough, and he could feel his heart swell with pride to see his royal matron here tonight. He clapped with both hands, unaware that this was unusual.
The Royal Symphony began their start with the national anthem of Albion, to more fanfare. The underclass would no doubt break out into crude, though well meaning, song and sing to the anthem, while here in the finery of upper society one simply cracked open another bottle of champagne and drank deeply to the patriotic music. The applause and cheer was deafening when they finished, and more than a little wine and champagne was spilled upon him when he stood up to cheer the orchestra along with everyone else.
Their next song was... moody. Excellent, as always, though Dobbs found himself caught off guard. It was such a deep and somber tone. It reminded him of the sea as a storm boiled in the distance, when the waters were dark but not violent yet. He could see the tall ocean swells in the distance, rising and falling like clockwork. Dark shapes lurked beneath the waves. The foreboding tone was like a mist circling his heart, but a ray of light from some distant lighthouse penetrated it and saved him from this melancholy.
The song after this was even darker. The strings were played high and sharp, the brass a wailing cry, and the percussion section a rhythmic march. Images of a fleet after a battle flashed hotly in his mind, of ships on fire on the high seas. He could sea the mightiest dreadnoughts crack in two, floundering and rolling over as thousands of small white dots that made up the crew fall off the capsizing vessel and into the water. The cries of drowning sailors was silenced as the ships detonated when water flooded their boilers. So many ship were going down around him, detonated by unseen foes, and the cry of men screaming for help was louder than the music. He shifted uneasily in his seat, though everyone else in the theater was eerily quiet and unmoving as if they were stuck in a trance.
The fourth song was more promising, and an elegant duo from a flute and clarinet led his mind to safety like two fairies bringing a lost traveler to the center of the woods where a clean pond awaited for him to drink from, and gentle grass for him to lay in. He settled into the shade, happy to see these little fairies dance and fly around him. But the brass section wouldn't allow it. A trombone quietly announced its presence, making itself known in the darkness of the forest. It was a simple deep, drawn out tone, like a beast prowling the brush. It would sound off as it moved, and went quiet as it watched. Over and over, louder and louder, until finally it burst through the brush and the entirety of the string and brass section erupted into a hellish fury of noise. Dobbs didn't know what was happening. He realized he was suddenly falling, falling deep into some unknown darkness, having been utterly betrayed by the forest fairies which he had so surely thought were there to comfort him. He couldn't stop this fall as he tumbled around in darkness into some fathomless pit.
The fifth song took hold while he fell, and he realized it was the song of the devil. The string section screeched out a hellish and wild symphony of despair, each note piercing his ears. The percussion battered his terrified heart like an enemy broadside tearing into his defenseless vessel, and he could see all manner of terror in his flight into hell. Monsters and demons lurking in the darkness, laughing as he fell. The music dictated this new reality and as it grew more violent and intense, the harder it was for him to believe he could somehow escape. Claws lashed out and cut his body while a cold wind froze him.
He finally landed into a pool of black ink, the liquid choking his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. His senses were dead as he floundered up to the surface of the water. The music went silent as he took a deep breath and struggled to keep afloat, and in that moment the silence was the worst thing he had ever heard in his entire life, more so than the dirge he listened to in the eternity he felt as he plummeted into hell. All he could hear was his own labored breathing and heart threatening to erupt in his chest.
A lone violin played. It was a simple note being pulled along, quietly from the darkness. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but he knew it was coming for him. It slowly grew louder. And louder. It didn't matter in what direction he swam, for there was no land or raft to clamber aboard on. This inky water was all that existed down here and he could feel his limbs grow heavy with exhaustion as the violin - his own violin - grew louder and louder until he began to scream.
It went silent, but something stirred in the water in front of him. A pale woman with black hair and red eyes emerged, sneering at his terror. He opened his mouth to scream one more, but she was too fast, and she lunged at him through the ink and grabbed him. She pulled him down like some terrible siren, and the ink filled his throat, lungs, and stomach until the darkness was too overwhelming and he simply became... nothing.
Fallensteller
She could feel warm sand underfoot as she waded through the black ink ocean. A shoreline had appeared in the gloom and the sky was beginning to lighten up, though only barely. Distant mountains framed the background like tombstones, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning. Thunder growled gently in the distance as she finally made it to the beach and stepped out of the sea. She wasn't certain where she was, though she had a very good idea based on the ink, sky, and sand. The Abyss. Her new home. It was difficult to say why she was in the water, and why she was nude and without her uniform, and while she pondered this an Albion bicorne officers cap washed up by her feet. How curious. She picked it up to examine it but there was little to it other than what it was, so she tossed it back into the sand for the waves to play with. Slowly, it was drawn back out into the ink ocean and out of sight.
"You grow ever stronger, mistress," a voice said softly further up the beach. A tall figure dressed in sickly brown leather robes was awaiting her as she approached. It wasn't until she was a few feet away that she realized that these leather robes were rather... unorthodox. It was clearly made from tanned human skin, stitched together and bound by string. The leather-like appearance simply went to show how old these human-clothes were.
The figure prostrated themselves before Fallensteller. As they did so, their movement was the sound of parchment and paper being rustled together. Was this... the Necrolan? They had no identifiable hands or face, and were just a set of dark human-leather robes. It didn't seem so far of a stretch to think as much.
"You've slain a naughty little angel who dared to offend you with their presence, and you so masterfully wove the strings around a new puppet, my mistress," the figure cooed, their voice raspy and dry. "Mistress was even so kind to allow me to feed after such an... expenditure of my power. For that, I am most grateful."
It was the Necrolan, or at the very least the spirit of the necromancer who bound himself within. It no doubt took a certain dedication to one's craft to kill themselves to create their magnum opus, especially since they would never be the ones to use it.
The spirit - or book - stood and presented Fallensteller with a a single black feather. It was sharpened at the edge of the quill to be used to write with.
"I present to you a gift, a tool from the late foolish angel. I so cleverly plucked this from them as they writhed into the shadowy sea, drowning beneath its benevolent waves. I humbly regret being unable to recover their body entirely, but the Abyss has an unlimited hunger, my mistress. To deny it a meal is to court disaster."
"This meager gift is a most bountiful and, I dare say, needed tool. Observe."
The figure materialized a small goblet of blood in their hand. They gingerly held the quill in their hand and dipped the tip into the blood. Rather quickly, it drank up the entire goblet of blood until not a drop was left. He held it out for Fallensteller to take.
"A blood-quill is a symbol of your superiority over life and death, mistress, for you can make any object your canvas for sorcery. You can scribble upon the very air before you and the runes and words shall appear within me," he said proudly. "The blood-quill requires not your artificial inks and paints, for it feeds off of the blood of your chosen. Blades are, of course, most tantalizing, but for a refined mistress such as yourself, who values discretion, a quill is much more pleasing."
It was a simple object, hardly something to be called an artifact, and as mundane as it was, there was no denying the utility of such a tool. While the Necrolan may have been unfamiliar with the notion of fountain pens, a quill of sorcerous nature which allowed one to write on anything and have it be directly transcribed into the Necrolan was certainly useful. It seemed to refill quickly, if the goblet demonstration was to be trusted, so even a small and quick prick on someone nearby should drain them of enough blood to write with.
"I hope you find my humble gift most pleasing to you, mistress," the spirit continued, before bowing once more. "However, I must depart, for my form is much too weak and meager to continue this projection. I am always at your service, mistress..."
The spirit simply... disappeared. There was no fanfare, sound, or odd visuals. She was left alone on the beach, listening to the waves of this ink sea, clutching the blood-quill.
Vunor
The bovine shaman was well aware of the nature of dreams and meditation, and as he drifted off into his slumber, he could tell the difference between reality and the dream world instantly. This lucidness often served as an extension of his mediation, as a way to train his mind and occasionally some minor skills, but this time he felt troubled. His dreamscape was not as it often was - a calm grassy grove in a forest of his homeland. Now, he sat in a cold and unfamiliar ashen plain. There were no features of anything. Ash simply swirled around on the ground, stirred up by the wind, and it seemed as if the area was drenched in a moderate fog. This place was so desolate... why had his mind brought him here?
Uneasily, he thought about the silence of his god. Was... this a sign of that silence? A visual representation that there was simply nothing? That the quiet was, in fact, real?
It was troubling to discern a proper meaning from this location without falling into fear and unease, and even the mere flare up of these emotions threatened to destabilize the dream and plunge him into a nightmare or simply wake him up.
Silence. There was only silence. No prayer was answered, no heartfelt plea acknowledged. What did it mean? What did it mean! Surely, there was some logical explanation for the silence. It couldn't continue. Not forever. It couldn't....
Continued in Part 3
((Post Break 2: Electric Boogaloo))
Sweet Dreams - Continued...
Jager
Captain Jager was laying on a rather comfortable bed, draped in purple sheets and covered in numerous soft silky pillows. It seemed like he was laying in a bed fit for a king, though why not? He was pretty great. Gothian war hero, conqueror of Pavlovia... or had that not happened yet? His mind was still a little fuzzy. An empty bottle of brandy was laying on the floor, along with an overturned tumbler glass. Whatever ice had been within had melted long ago and a small puddle of water was gathered around it. Where was he again? Back home in Gothia, it seemed. A bed this size could never fit on the Blitzwave. Well, maybe, but then he'd have some people breathing down his neck for taking up too much space.
He glanced over and saw Yarah-kei laying on the other side of the bed, clearly nude though draped partially in the silken blanket that covered both of them. Oh, yeah... perhaps he did remember a bit more about last night. How foolish he had been to avoid Yarah's... skills... for this long. There was no doubt she was well practiced and knew what she was doing, though of course she was no match for a lady killer like himself. Succubus or not.
His body was rather sore, though, and he could feel some scratch marks all over his body. Yarah certainly was a bit of a wild one, though as he thought it over, this really seemed to be the only thing she was worth. Shalo wasn't wrong when she said Yarah was a mouthy one. She liked to complain and get into trouble. She was a bit of novelty to have around, a bit of an amusement as well, and perhaps in time she would lighten up. He could always command her to do so, though that seemed a bit cheap.
Why not just summon another, and more importantly, better succubus? He had the knowledge for it. Hell, he could probably summon quite a few things if he wanted, though another succubus definitely sounded like the best of all the options. Hopefully one that was more obedient and mature. One that didn't mouth off every ten seconds, or lie and cause him a headache.
A few names drifted through his mind, knowledge implanted within him from Shalo. Other demon names, presumably of succubi. Saria'talan, Lumineste, Io'etan, and one named Raya-kei. A member of Yarah's tribe perhaps? Or just a similar naming convention? It was hard to tell - aside from the technical information, he really didn't know anything about demons, let alone succubi. He didn't know a thing about any of these particular demons, either, and probably would have to summon them to know anything about them. Appearance didn't seem to be a big problem, since they could change theirs after all, but their attitude was a mystery. Hopefully he wouldn't summon another Yarah, or one even worse.
Morning
February 14th, 1898
Consulate
Yesterday had been a rather clear and cloudless day, though this morning as the sun rose up into the sky, it was apparent that some light storms were on the way. Dark, rain heavy clouds were moving in from the sea. They didn't look particularly bad - sailors had a knack for noticing if a storm looked rough - and these appeared to mostly be rainclouds rather than anything serious.
Today was to be a rather minimal day in terms of actions for the fleet. The priority meeting today was to conduct the trial which had been postponed to today, after yesterday's theatrics. The trial of Sergeant Torsson of the Blitzwave and Mister Norrys of the Mariner's Boon was to take place at the consulate starting at ten-thirty. They had been accused of committing unlawful killings of civilians the night of the fire at the docks, and the charges were textbook war crimes. A military tribunal of this nature was based entirely on the justice of the fleet, as they were far from home and the institutions there.
Admiral Mannfred and his delegation from yesterday were at the consulate early and before anyone else. Marines were helping to set back up the tables and chairs, and everything appeared as it had yesterday, except for the display of information concerning the Nadesh invasion. That had been concluded, though it was clear that if anything else needed to be discussed concerning the invasion, it was certainly possible to do so.
A small crowd of beastfolk were gathered as they had been yesterday as well, a group of officers and footmen who had either been witnesses to the accused crime or simply ranking members who had a stake in the proceeding.
The sky was cloudy by the time the meeting was close to starting as captains and their delegations arrived, and it was a worry among some that the trial would have to be moved indoors from the courtyard in case it rained.
The morning had been eventful aboard the Eisenstrasse, as Krantz found himself giving early morning lessons in the use of firearms to Kyndreth. The intention was not to force her to use one, but to show her what they were and how they worked. And give her an idea of what to expect in the future. Pistols, rifles, machine guns, all were shown and thoroughly tested so that she knew what all the Eisenstrasse used. He didn't have the time to go over things like battle tactics with her, though, as they had to attend the trial that morning.
They arrived at the consulate early in the morning, walking there just as they had done the day before. Von Strauss, whom had been in a sort of somber mood that morning, remained in command of the Eisenstrasse, while Váradi went with Krantz and Kyndreth to the meeting. Váradi himself was rather quiet this morning as well, but Krantz really didn't pay much attention. He was more focused on the looks that he was getting from the local population as he walked beside Kyndreth. A demon out in the open for the world to see? He was sure that he'd get even more looks from the other captains and delegations. And likely questions.
Once they arrived at the courtyard, the platoon of riflemen that had escorted the trio broke away, moving off to the side of the courtyard where they would remain unless needed. Krantz and Váradi took their seats at their table just as they had done the day before, while Kyndreth stood just behind Krantz. Just within arm's reach.
Dobbs awoke violently in a cold sweat, tumbling from his bed and reeling from the night terror that had beset his mind. He breathed heavily as he shook himself all around and looked around for signs of danger or trouble. It took him some time to realize he was fine, and furthermore that he was back in the waking world. He got himself up using his arm and sat on the edge of his
mattress before sinking his face into his hand and sighing. He remembered some of it, the most terrifying parts that is. The fall. The pool of black drawing him in. That woman. His eyes widened.
Eyes of red. Hair black as night. That heretic haunts even my dreams now. Dobbs thought to himself with despair as he wiped his forehead of sweat. He stood up and took note of the time: 6 in the morning, still too early for the meeting, let alone do anything. Nonetheless, he dressed himself and re-attached his arm before picking up his violin and began to play to calm himself once more. The bowstring ran alongside the violin wires for its first notes and as he played, he entered his mind's orchestra once more...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UhnfWzOCMo
Many songs later, a knock at his door interrupted the musical trance he played. He took a look at the time once more: 15 minutes past 9. Time to go.
[Later]
It took a half hour to get ready and arrive at the consulate with several marines in tow as well as Wollisfend once more before the two of them took their seats and awaited the start of the trial.
However, things weren't as simple as they seemed, as Krantz had arrived with... a new arrival.
"Captain Krantz... I don't suppose you mind me asking who your, er... guest is?"
---
Vunor looked around where he stood in his dream, taking in this unusual, and desolate, view. He forced his emotions back as he walked forward, ash puffing up and swirling around his feet as he took steps on it. It was as if a fire had taken hold of this field, but this was no ordinary fire. Nay, fire was part of a cycle of rebirth. Life would bloom after where destruction came, given time. This... this was scorched. Dead. His surroundings were eerily quite as well, not even the soft breeze of the wind. Everything was dead here. Vunor knelt onto the ground and picked up some of the ash beneath it. It lay lifeless in his hand, some of the excess trailing off his hand and gently falling downward back to the ground. He could only stare, before he-
A loud noise suddenly roused Vunor quickly from his slumber, bringing him back to the real world. As he exited his tent, he looked around for the source. A loud squawking pierced the air near him and he found the source just on top of his tent: a greater sea hawk. Yet, it was colored with vivid brightness in its feathers. An intertwining marriage of green melding to blue then to a dark purple with its tail. It looked at his curiously and Vunor returned a gaze. It was indeed a beautiful creature. To be blessed with such a rare view was considered a good omen.
"Greiða við greiðos." he whispered to it, outstretching his arm.
As if it understood him, it flew over and landed itself on Vunor as if he were a perch.
"I need you to send a message back to my home." said Vunor in a gentle voice before whispering to it.
[Later]
Vunor arrived at the meeting at around 15 minutes to ten in the morning, and took his seat as he did the previous day and eyed Krantz. Perhaps this was the captain he was to sail with to aid in the task against the Cardinal? Or perhaps it would be the other... though that Fontaine did leave a sour taste in his mouth the previous day with his nonchalant attitude to murdering those incapable of fighting back.
He would have to wait and see.
---
Nita awoke in her bunk and yawned quietly as she moved up to sit. She took a look around and was instantly reminded where she was. Many were still sleeping, Kitta included, and Nita did her best to not disturb anyone as she collected her staff and put on some attire before exiting the barracks. "Now... I suppose I should take a look around, yes?" she said quietly as she started to walk through the airship.
"Captain Krantz... I don't suppose you mind me asking who your, er... guest is?"
Krantz glanced over to where Dobbs was sitting. "Oh, this is Lady Kyndreth. Maiden of the Martyred Order. My personal guard, and my wife." he explained, motioning over his shoulder at Kyndreth. Váradi cut Krantz a look. They're married?
------
The early morning crew of the airship were wandering about, filling in the roles of the crew that had remained at work overnight. A few soldiers were on patrol as well, ignoring Nita as she walked around the airship. Figuring she was one of the new recruits. It seemed she'd get plenty of time to herself to explore the airship before training started. At the moment, she was still in the barracks. The medical bay was at the rear of the barracks, while the officer's quarters were toward the front.
Vunor observed Krantz and Dobbs talk to each other, as well as the 'wife' that was brought in. This was, with no doubt, a demon. But summoned by who? he asked himself in his mind. He stayed silent in the meantime, rather not wanting to intrude in the conversation.
-
Dobbs shifted in his seat. "Uh huh..." he said nervously. "Might I ask how that came to happen?"
---
Nita decided to head forwards on the ship deck and found herself near the officer's quarters, where a few of the higher ranking members of the ship loitered around and talked among each other. She continued forward and climbed down some stairs before finding herself at the bridge. She didn't really get a good look at it last evening, but now it was in front of her in her fully glory. The technology was quite marvelous to someone like her as she looked around in awe. What else could the humans have made if they have the means to make a floating ship? Nita thought to hrself curiously.
Cattapoli, Consulate
Lady Kyndreth had followed Krantz and his group dutifully along through the city streets, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword firmly but in a nonchalant manner. For someone who was constantly on the guard, she looked rather calm and relaxed. There was no tenseness to her muscles or eyes. Her gaze simply swept around and took in everyone and everything, and she was no doubt categorizing what was and was not a likely threat. The large assembly of soldiers from other ships did give her some slight pause, however. Earlier in the morning Krantz had given her a decent lesson in the usage of several firearms, and she realized that they would be difficult to counter with her sword. Of course, her weapon was more than a simple piece of metal, for it was soul bound to her and capable of feats that no normal blade could perform. Regardless of this fact, at the right distance, a gun was superior. It had been a long time since she practiced cutting arrows from the sky, but she would have to do so again - except with bullets this time. To compensate for this lack in skill, she had a small semi-automatic pistol in a holster on her hip, courtesy of Krantz and the armory. She caught on quick enough with its use and could fire accurately and reload at about the same speed of an experienced trooper.
She gave a short bow to Vice Admiral Dobbs upon her introduction, and remained quiet as she stood beside Krantz. Her attention was on her surroundings, though she had glanced around at the admiral on occasion, who was standing near his table. A flutter of red and white robes had caught her attention earlier on the far end of the courtyard, and she could sense that her old mistress was around somewhere.
"Uh huh..." he said nervously. "Might I ask how that came to happen?"
Krantz glanced over to where Mannfred and his delegation were, before looking back to Dobbs. "I'd explain, but I'm sure it will explain itself rather shortly." responded Krantz. "Nothing bad, I assure you."
-----
Von Strauss was deep in thought, peering out the observation windows as Nita emerged onto the lower bridge. Those damn justicars, treating Lord Veritas like that...horrendous. She glanced over, before noticing Nita was on the bridge. "Oh! You're up rather early. Decided to poke around the ship a bit?" she said, walking over with a smile.
Dobbs didn't reply, but gave a nod of understanding towards Krantz and refrained from questioning further. Demons now walk among us... and I'm supposed to act natural about this? a part of Dobbs' mind screamed at him. This is demonic filth! You cannot trust any of it!
---
"Oh, uh, yeah. It's a bit drab in the barracks right now with everyone sleeping so I thought I'd get to know the ship... airboat... airship better." Nita said as he fumbled at some of the words. "How does this even work? How do you get something this big to fly?"
"How does this even work? How do you get something this big to fly?"
"Science and technology!" said Von Strauss with a grin. She went on to explain how the airship stays in the air, through the use of gases and containment shells (giving the airship its long torpedo like shape.) "I would suggest not lighting anything on fire while inside one of the containment shells...the gases holding this vessel up are rather flamable. The airship could burst into flames or explode, and kill everyone aboard." she said, tilting her head as she looked Nita over.
Jäger awoke with a twitch. His gripped the hilt of his sword. He was still on the bridge. Yarah was seated next to him. He smiled in a sly fashion to himself. Jäger got up and notified the communications operator that the delegation was to be ready in three hours, as it was still early in the morning.
Afterwards he lifted Yarah up and carried her back to his room. He placed her on the bed and pulled a thin blanket over her body to keep her warm.
Jäger then made his way to the library. Gavrilov and Fallstrom had taken turns to sleep on a simple chair while Therasmus was still inside. "Good morning, Therasmus."
Lars sat at his table, asleep ontop of his notebook filled with descriptions of subjects spoken the night before.
"Come to the conference room whenever you're ready. My men will show you the way."
Jäger then bowed and left. His dream had left and impression on him. It had also planted a seed. Perhaps he could summon someone a bit more warrior-like who could also carry themselves as a woman of a court? This had to be tested. After all, Shalo had given him the powers to do it.
He made a quick detour to the kitchen. He needee salt. The staff asked no questions, they were far too busy readying breakfast for the crew and the marines.
After procuring salt Jäger made his way to conference room. He rolled up one end of the carpet and moved some chairs before getting to work. He drew a thick circle. There was no hole in it, no weakness or risk.
Jäger took a deep breath.
"Dost lo tiva, Raya-kei."
Therasmus had recounted everything about the Abyss he could, cataloging the information with Lars throughout the night until the man had fallen asleep. At that time in the night he had made no effort to wake him, having exhausted his inspection of the library's volumes he was able to reflect on what he had learned as well as his plans moving forward. After all as nice as the conversation and studying was it had all been a diversion from his main goal, but certainly not a waste of time. It helped to go back on information he had collected or observed in the past - for his mind was a miasma of errant thoughts and facts that continued to get more complex. Going through the motions and retreading old ground was a good exercise in neural plasticity, even though the demon had no human brain to speak of. Into the wee hours of sunrise and the morning proper he tried to consult his knowledge of the timelines and pathways. So much was sure to be developing in these few short days, and the crew's choices and performance in the battle to come hinged on many minute details. He would need to scrutinize them, consider what his next move would be very carefully...
The captain roused him out of his trance, though it seemed as though he were simply staring at the door by the time he had entered. "Good morning to you, captain." Therasmus replies, giving a simple nod in response to the request. Almost immediately he went out behind the captain, thinking nothing of how he left to a completely different path than what the soldiers shuffled him to. Certainly a busy sort, wasn't he?
Once he had arrived he waited in the conference room rather patiently, surprisingly silent as his face twisted and moved with a puzzled expression. Things would get all the more curious if he were to note any flare-ups of magic within the ship, however.
Throughout the night, Mesahri wandered the halls of the Zuflucht as if lost in a maze. In her dream, all her problems had seemed so simple when she spoke to Kojo. She still held that her next task was to convince Fallensteller to hand over the cursed skull she kept in her quarters and destroy it, using the fragments to construct a spirit ring for herself to ward off the dark influences she had so ignorantly sworn to serve. She also knew that she had to warn the other bats to flee from this place before the ship could leave the Cattan Islands, which would likely occur later that day, or else they, too, might fall victim to the cult.
So why then, every time an opportunity presented itself, did she find herself tongue-tied?
It wasn't just a hesitation or a lapse of focus. It felt more like a jolt of anxiety- each time she wanted to speak or act out against the humans, she could feel a sense of doom creep up on her, and she shied away, making excuses for it all. Not yet, she would tell herself. But when it would be the right and proper time was never clear, and soon it would be too late. As outlandish as the entire situation was proving to be, it was only accelerating in its headlong descent into the dark unknown, and she could hardly keep track of what new depths the Captain was plunging. She had been almost normal the first time they met, a bit on the mystical side, but that was all. In the days that followed, Fallensteller had discovered the means to arise from death and had even shown that she could inflict that state on others.
The grotesqueness of the hospital that night was indescribable, and was burned into her memory forever. If anything, that was the moment that she should have ran and raised the alarms. But then, there was a dreadful caveat: she had seen, firsthand, how knowledge and control were the Captain's favorite strings to pull; when Fallensteller felt confident in her control over another, she would share more and more of the truth, confident that it would leak out and escape her grasp. The flip side was also true- the more you learn about Fallensteller, the more she would seek to control you. Mesahri paused in her wandering and tugged on the ribbon tied in a bow around her neck. There was no better symbol of her relationship with that witch than the collar she had been given.
Yarah had a similar arrangement with Captain Jäger, and had tried to warn her. Am I any less a slave to Fallensteller?
She had seen what the Captain had done to Officer Taube. What was now left, this "Kasimira," was the most disturbing mockery of life she could imagine. Fallensteller even referred to her as "her little marionette," with such glee and self-satisfaction that it made her skin crawl. But Kasimira wasn't just a grotesque oddity without a purpose, no. Fallensteller had created her to prove that there was a fate worse than ritual sacrifice. If Mesahri were to turn on her now, she would not only be killed, but brought back as another of the Captain's dark puppets, an eternal servant without so much as a conscience. She would finally become the pet that the Captain already saw her as.
She shook her head violently as the fur on her neck stood on end. No, she thought, this is what she wants. She wants me to be so paralyzed with fear that I can't think for myself. I have to warn the others, now! She opened her eyes and set her mind to the task. She would free the others. Think of Lunaire... she reminded herself. She's just a child...
---
Fallensteller slowly opened her eyes. It had been such a pleasant dream, she wished she could have stayed a while longer and seen more of the Abyss. Instead, she found herself once again encased within the lifeless shell of her body, feeling even more numb than she had before. Held tightly in her hand was the enchanted angel's feather quill she had been given in her slumber, which helped ease the displeasure of undeath, if only for a moment. She sat up, lost in thought before suddenly jolting, startled by Kasimira, who was still seated at the far end of the room, unblinking, like a doll. Chuckling a bit at herself in her embarrassment, Fallensteller stood and sought out the Necrolan. Before getting wrapped up in her morning duties, she would make a stop by the infirmary and check on the cleanup efforts. If she could also locate one of the servants, she would arrange for a blood donation for her next ritual- to restore a lifelike appearance to herself.
It wasn't long after she entered the hall that she was approached by Schuster and Kirsch, who were walking together and seemingly wrapped up in an unpleasantly intense conversation. To her annoyance, Kirsch was sporting a red ribbon around his arm, giving him the right to move about the ship at night despite curfew, which was a privilege meant to be reserved for servants. From the sounds of their bickering, Kirsch definitely couldn't be trusted yet. "Gentlemen," she greeted, her voice dryer, more hoarse than usual. "What seems to be the problem?"
Kirsch spoke first. "Captain, I can't seem to get a straight answer out of this man no matter how many times I try. All I want to know is why I'm being told there are places on this ship that I can't visit and times that I'm not supposed to be up and about, when I've seen at least a dozen petty officers doing just the same. When I was told I needed an armband, I ordered one of them to surrender one of theirs, and would you believe the boy argued with me? Now the Commander tells me that these ribbons aren't supposed to be passed around, and that just having one doesn't entitle me to-"
"Lieutenant, please," Fallensteller interrupted, waving her hands in a calming gesture. "This is only a misunderstanding. The curfew policy was implemented in a hurried manner and we didn't have time to come up with an elegant solution, and we'll be improving things tonight. Of course you will be allowed to traverse the ship at your leisure; all that needs to be done is a simple test, administered by Lt. Pawlitzky or myself, to ensure that you aren't somehow involved in anything of an occult nature. We had no such safeguards in place before now, and we paid the price with Lt. Weber."
"A test?" Kirsch replied. At first he was inclined to believe it, but then he remembered accompanying Ackermann on a visit to the Revenant much earlier in the expedition, when serious doubts existed about Fallensteller's fidelity. He clearly remembered the Admiral declaring that a simple test of that nature didn't exist. So what was the Captain suggesting?
Fallensteller nodded. "Every person you see with an armband has undergone the test. I would have suggested you undergo it today, after the fleet meeting, regardless of this conversation of ours because I would very much like to verify the loyalty of our highest ranks before moving on to the lower levels."
Kirsch looked at her critically. "How does it work?"
"I can't tell you," the Captain replied. "The method has to remain a secret so that others don't find a way to cheat it."
"And when was it developed?"
"Yesterday," Fallensteller said, simply. "We were just beginning to implement it when the attack at the hospital occurred. Perhaps Weber learned of it, felt he was about to be exposed, and took drastic action while he could. Do you see the need for subtlety, Mr. Kirsch?"
Kirsch hesitated for a moment before nodding, uneasily. She met with Admiral Mannfred yesterday. Maybe there really is a test and I was just out of the loop. "In that case, as long as I'm not under active suspicion, do you mind if I accompany you to the island this morning before I take the test? I haven't been off the ship in weeks and I'd like to take my last opportunity before Nadesh."
Fallensteller thought it over before agreeing. If it will keep his nose clean...
Schuster spoke up. "One other thing, Captain. Last night, after the attack, a skiff from the Mariner's Boon arrived and dropped off Miss Neustadt. Apparently she was injured in some sort of industrial accident... She doesn't seem capable of speaking at the moment. I had her placed in her personal quarters for the night due to the peculiarity and the fact that the attack had just happened-"
"Yes, yes, that's fine," Fallensteller said. "Still, that's concerning news. Is she still sleeping? I'll visit with her once the sun has risen." I'll have to speak with Tobey and find out what went wrong. I hope he hasn't lost faith in our collaboration... There was a general agreement that the conversation was over, and Fallensteller turned to leave, only to find Mesahri had rounded the corner ahead and was walking her way. She let out an annoyed sigh. "Officer Mesahri, is there something you need as well?"
The bat froze for a moment. "Um... yes, actually," she said, fear and anxiety pooling in the pit of her stomach. She glanced at the two men beside the Captain- one was Commander Schuster, a friend. The other was a lieutenant she didn't recognize, but he had an armband, so that must have meant he was a servant, so she spoke freely. "I had a dream last night. An ancestor of mine visited me, and told me I need to construct something."
Fallensteller was at first happy to hear that something had come of her pledge from the previous day, but then realized, with wide eyes, that if Mesahri mentioned Raum that she'd need to do something drastic with Kirsch. "Oh! That's quite interesting," she interjected. "Let's sit down in my quarters, shall we? We'll talk it over."
Mesahri agreed, slightly confused, but it was convenient since it would get her closer to the object she desired.
---
Neustadt woke up in the comfort of her own bed, and stared at the ceiling for a while. The previous two days felt like an ongoing nightmare, and she wished that she could escape it entirely. Perhaps, today, she would. Even if Sabine had decided to take measures against an escape, perhaps by posting guards at the skiff launch or arbitrary restrictions on the radio room, Neustadt knew that she could simply fabricate her way out of any situation now that she had access to the Zuflucht's workshop. If that meant building a raft, or a makeshift radio, so be it.
She sat up and looked at herself. She looked normal, and while she was afraid of what might happen if she tried to speak, she eventually tested it, and was pleased to find herself unable to. Maybe it was enough. If I go to the Revenant now, if I plead to the Admiral now, he'd have to see how far I've gone to hide it, how ashamed I am. They'd forgive me, wouldn't they?
She got herself dressed in a fresh outfit and headed off to the workshop floor to find out what had been going on in her absence, and perhaps to say goodbye to the other engineers.
---
"You want to destroy it?" Fallensteller repeated.
Mesahri nodded, nervously. She had managed to tell her short story, despite Kasimira sitting nearby, seemingly staring at her. "It- It's cursed, Captain; I just about lost my mind when I looked at it before. Kojo told me to build a spirit ring for myself so I'd be protected in these seas, and I need bone for that. The bone of another bat like myself. I think it would be smart to turn something cursed into something blessed, don't you?"
"Curses are often blessings in disguise, Mesahri," Fallensteller replied, crossing her arms. "We haven't even figured out if that's the only effect it gives. Can't you find bones elsewhere?"
Mesahri shook her head emphatically. "Digging up the remains of my kin after they've already been laid to rest would be an unforgivable insult. Honestly, I'm afraid if I did that, then we'd just end up with another cursed item."
"Then how do your people normally construct these things?" Fallensteller asked.
"When someone dies, the bone is taken before the rest of the remains are laid to rest. The spirit ring is fashioned for wear by someone close to them, so that their protection can stay close. Sometimes the rings are passed down, and the bone of multiple ancestors are present," Mesahri explained. "That skull you have was never laid to rest, or else it was disturbed by someone else and not me. I might not be related by blood to whoever that was... but I'd be doing them a service by destroying the object they've been turned into and making something to honor them. At least... I hope that's how they'll view it."
Fallensteller leaned back, seemingly unconvinced. "Fine then..." she said, reaching over to the wooden box and placing it on the table between them. Mesahri shrunk back a bit, afraid of what might happen when the lid was lifted. Instead, the Captain stood up, circling around so that she could see herself in the mirror. "I'll let you take this item and do with it what you will, if you agree to help me in another way. I'd like to perform a small ritual, one which would restore my appearance to a degree. But, I need blood. Blood is the fuel, Mesahri, and I don't have it. Neither does Kasimira. I need yours."
"W-will this do anything to my soul?" she asked, sheepishly.
"Probably not," Fallensteller answered. "The blood could come from anywhere, but you're convenient and you won't speak of this. I'll only need a small amount."
"How much?" Mesahri asked. She watched the Captain reach into her coat pocket and pull out the Necrolan, and then take out the feather quill from inside the front cover. Mesahri glanced to the wooden box again, nervously, when she felt a sharp pain in the back of her neck. A moment later, Fallensteller pulled it out.
"That much," she said, before turning to the mirror. "You can have that skull. To be quite honest, I'm not sure what I would have used it for myself. Now... let's see if this works," she said, allowing the pages to flutter between the book's cover as she watched her reflection in the mirror. She held the quill aloft and, imagining the process of revitalizing herself, followed the book's guidance as she scripted out the spell in mid-air.
Cattapoli, Blitzwave
The creation of the salt circle, as well as the subsequent runes and additional layers which needed to be drawn out to perfection, were constructed in just a few minutes. The information was thoroughly burned into his mind, and while he had only done it once with Shalo's help, he was certain he had assembled the drawings correctly. He spoke the primer out loud correctly, allowing the circle to light up, though its intensity seemed... variable. It crackled and pulsed instead of becoming a solid light as it had before. Had he missed something with the salt?
As it was, he didn't realize that he had not added a fuel source of focusing tool to the circle to complete it. He quickly realized after the fact that candles would suffice, along with some sort of blood or item of power, and that a mirror would be helpful in keeping it all steady. Shalo had filled in for this part by simply doing this all herself - for such was her power with summoning.
The circle crackled audibly, sending out little sparks of what appeared to be electricity. Therasmus would be able to feel a sudden and odd sensation of weariness wash over him, just for a few seconds, as if some of his own energy had been siphoned away. And in fact, that is exactly what had happened. He didn't quite know this method of summoning, but he would be able to realize that the circle had directly stolen some of his own energy and lifeforce to fuel itself, for he was the nearest magical entity. He could also sense a small psychic flare up elsewhere on the ship, which was likely energy being stolen from the succubus, though it probably wasn't as much as his.
Now the circle lit up brightly as it had the first time, becoming a solid ring of light supported by smaller beams from the other portions of salt surrounding it. Still, however, it crackled and sparked. Jager was certain there was no break in the salt, but his enthusiasm to summon another demon had caused him to forget other ingredients.
A small bolt of lightening exploded out of the circle as the interior surface mirrored open. The bolt struck the ceiling and left a black scorch mark, sending away tiny spheres of ball lightening which floated harmlessly around the room. More violent crackling emitted from the circle as if it was the center of some lightening storm, forcing any present in the room to at least take a step back.
The intensity of the electric frenzy continued as a figure slowly rose up out of the center. This one was not entirely nude, as Yarah had been upon her summoning. In fact, this demon was already standing, conscious and with her hands crossed politely before her. Her skin was light blue-purple, her eyes dark red with small white pupils, while long black hair was neatly combed back behind pointed ears and down around her neck. She had two horns which stretched back over her head, instead of curling like Yarah's, and they were also smaller than the other succubus'. Her clothes were rather simple, being just a cloth wrap around her breasts, with a see-through linen shawl that covered her shoulders and chest. Another cloth wrap covered her hips, while a similar translucent linen veil made a longer skirt around her. However, it did not cover her front or back - just her legs. She also had a considerable amount of jewelry on her face, with a multi-gem amulet on her forehead, along with some curious metal circlets and ornaments which framed her face and neck.
Raya-kei licked her lips and eyes Jager for a moment, before sobering up slightly when she spotted Therasmus nearby. The circle continued to spark for a moment before it finally stopped entirely, and the light died away. The salt was smoldering, filling the room with the strong smell of burning salt. Even a quick glance at the circle on the ground showed that the lines of the circle and runes had been burned into the hard floor.
The demon glanced around the room and straightened out her half-skirt before stepping out of the circle.
Jager's attention sharpened. Something different had certainly happened. He distinctly remembered there being one final part to the ritual, after the demon had been summoned. She should have been stuck within an invisible cage, and then he was to place his hand on it and speak one last phrase: servantus indera, Raya-kei. That was supposed to bind her to him, and then he was to break the salt circle to let her out. Raya-kei was neither trapped in the circle nor had he spoken the binding phrase, and he especially didn't let her out of it.
"Well, good afternoon. Or evening. Morning? Sorry, I don't really know what time it is," she giggled, staring at Jager. "I certainly wasn't expecting... this." She gestured down at the smouldering summoning circle.
There was the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from outside, and the door to the conference room opened.
"What the hell was the meaning of all that nonsense I felt earli-" Yarah-kei had stormed into the room and went silent when she saw the other demon. "What the fuck is she doing here!"
Raya-kei's eyes lit up and she grinned with surprising smugness, and she had to cover her mouth with one hand as she fell into a haughty giggle fit. "Hah... oh my, if it isn't chambermaid Yarah," she said when she could finally catch her breath. "I'm surprised to see you dressed for once."
Yarah sputtered, her face curling into a snarl as her hands twisted into her sharp claws. "You... you... uptight, milk drinking, goat loving, bitchy.... bitch!" She took several steps further into the room. "I'll kill you!"
Raya just rolled her eyes, propping her chin up on her hand. "Oh, how cute." The smug arrogance in her voice was so thick it sounded almost fake.
"If the soap maiden wishes to challenge me, then by all means, come along then. If your leash can even make it that far."
Yarah's face reddened as she went off into another half-indecipherable tirade that was clearly in another language, though it was apparent that she couldn't close in on the other demon as much as she wanted to. Raya-kei simply smirked as she watched Yarah have a fit, flailing her arms beside Jager.
Cattapoli, Zuflucht
The spell to enshroud her with the appearance of being alive was, from what she could see, remarkably simple. So long as she had the power and fuel to cast it - in this case, Mesahri's blood in the quill - it seemed like it required no other tasks besides focus and precision. Her hand was poised in the air and she gently began to scrawl out the flowing script that was the essence of the spell. The air where she wrote glowed just slightly, and it must have been the dust in the air getting caught up in the sorcerous energies being gathered around her. She kept her mind clear and focus on the spell, and it took nearly nine minutes of continual writing to construct the spell. Had this been done on paper, she would have had to switch back along the paper, as even a small break in the writing would have ruined the spell and required it to have been rewritten. She couldn't physically see what it looked like at the moment, but it had to have had the appearance of scrawling and looping vines. The only time there was a break in the spell was when she had to add dots and dashes, but so long as the pattern was completed as required, that did not deter the spell.
With a bit of theatrical flourish, she finished the spell and dashed the end of the sentence. A sun-like warmth fell over her almost instantly, starting within her chest and slowly spreading its way around her body through her veins. Had her heart restarted? Was she feeling her blood flowing again, or whatever was inside of her? It was hard to tell exactly, for she couldn't feel a pulse on herself, but the internal warmth continued to build and spread. The sensation was certainly strange. She wasn't coming back to life, but instead putting up a simple exterior mockery of being alive. Her skin darkened to a healthy pallor and her skin did have a human warmth to it. She could see in the mirror that she looked as she had just days ago - alive. Much of the warmth she had felt within her did begin to die down, but it continued to exist along the surface of her skin, and it was almost as if she had simply shrugged on an invisible jacket which made her look to be alive rather than an undead.
The demon said nothing as he saw the captain perform the ritual, taking a simple step back once all of the errant magic and energy was dissipating. Having studied much of the arcane and creating portals from this realm and the ones beyond, he had enough knowledge to know that something was off about Jager's performance for the ritual. He had summoned her, but he didn't exactly bind the creature as he did with the other demon. Curious, but they did outnumber the new arrival if she did choose to turn hostile. His biggest concern was the weakness he had felt suddenly, knowing that the ritual had robbed him and used it as a catalyst.
"Captain I do believe your summoning skills need work." Therasmus chimed in, not caring for the bickering of the harem in-the-making for the moment. "Your ritual might have only costed you salt yet... I have lost a piece of me in the process. I do hope you will make an effort to repay me, yes. It only seems right, doesn't it?"
He began to circle around the symbols burned into the ground and the demon who had been summoned, eyeing her with a great deal of scrutiny shaking his head in slight disappointment. "And of all the creatures to summon... Another one of these... flesh-toys? I can never see the use of them. Perhaps you know something I don't? Hrm. No, the lack of proper... procedure shows me this was more impulsive and accidental than anything." the mind demon ranted before stopping in his tracks.
"All in all I say this is a deficit of my essence, and the tactical benefits are extremely questionable. I'm displeased by this turn of events. Completely..? Yes, completely and entirely."
Fallensteller gingerly touched her face once she had finally finished the spell, and could feel warmth within herself for the first time in days. It would be enough to fool the others, she reasoned, unless they were adept at magic like the Admiral or his first officer. She moved across the room and picked up a cloth from her desk, calmly wiping away what was left of the makeup she had been wearing since the previous morning, noting that everything felt a bit more familiar, now, even if things were still a far cry away from being truly normal.
Mesahri had been watching in total silence the entire time. She was afraid of breaking the Captain's concentration, as well as attempting to take the skull herself, since she knew it wasn't the only item inside the wooden box and that she couldn't be trusted to handle it herself. Besides all of that, she was morbidly curious of whether the Captain's spell would work. When Fallensteller finally finished, the transformation was practically immediate; not only did she look like she had when the two first met, but when next Fallensteller spoke, even her voice was smoother and more natural-sounding.
"Ah, now that looks much better," Fallensteller commented, idly. "Will you be coming along to the Consulate today, Mesahri?"
Mesahri blinked, surprised to have been asked instead of ordered. "Um, no, I'd rather not."
"Hmm, yes, you're going to be busy making that necklace of yours, I suppose. I'm going to be busy with my own affairs; a good friend of mine, Miss Silke Neustadt has returned to our ship after a brief stint on the Mariner's Boon; you narrowly missed meeting her a few nights ago." Fallensteller finished getting herself properly dressed for the meeting. "I think she would greatly appreciate a friend in this hour. I'm about to go speak with her but I do think she resents me somewhat for tricking her."
Mesahri eyed the captain critically. That sounds bad.
Fallensteller gave a sigh as she thought about the busy day ahead. "Right, I'm off, then. Come along since I can't leave you hear, dearest."
"Oh, um, the skull, Captain."
"What about it?" Fallensteller asked, cocking her head to the side.
Mesahri felt nervous. "I'm afraid of taking it out of the box. I was hoping you would-"
"That I would smash it for you? Please. Just don't look the thing in its eyes and you'll be fine, Mesahri. Now come on."
Mesahri sheepishly opened the container and removed the skull, quickly tucking it up under her arm so that the face was pressed against her uniform. She followed Fallensteller out into the hall, and the two parted ways.
---
The meeting with Neustadt was over quickly. As soon as the Captain poked her head in the door, she was set upon by Neustadt who, unable to control her emotions in the slightest, attempted to attack Fallensteller with one of her boots, but was quickly restrained by Pawlitzky and another rifleman. No words had even been exchanged, leaving Fallensteller confused and upset by the confrontation. "She's not to leave this room," she directed, "unless under direct supervision, not even to use the restroom. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am," the riflemen answered.
"No you don't," Fallensteller corrected. "Miss Neustadt is an extreme liability. Until I know exactly what's wrong with her, we cannot take any chances. If she somehow escapes her cell before then, I am authorizing you to shoot on sight."
They nodded, wondering exactly how dangerous Neustadt could be to warrant such a drastic order.
---
Mesahri arrived at the engineering floor and sought out a hammer, eventually finding a suitable one among the shelves. She placed the skull down on the floor, careful not to look it in the eyes, before circling around to the back of it. A few of the engineers present stopped as they noticed what was happening, but as one began to shout for her attention, Mesahri swung with all her might against the ornate skull.
---
With the hour fast approaching, Fallensteller gathered up Schuster, Kirsch, and a small accompaniment of riflemen to attend the meeting. They arrived on time.
Jäger watched the summoning in silence but cursed once he realized that he hadn't done just one but several mistakes. He ignored Yarah's comments and cut her a quick look. "Silence, Yarah-kei." He then looked at Therasmus. "I fear you may be correct."
Jäger then unholstered his pistol and chambered a round. It was a pure silver bullet. He looked at Raya and bowed his head. "Greetings Raya-kei, I am Captain William Jäger. You are currently onboard my vessel and you have been summoned because I have an offer for you."
He gestured towards Yarah. "I am a man of war and conquest. I plan for the future and those who stand with me will be greatly rewarded. If this is of interest to you then I will bind you to my service, although I expect to not use any forcing commands. If not then I will send you back. If you attack, well, then I will put you down."
Jäger sighed. "I'll be honest, Yarah hasn't made it easy. She talks alot. Loves to enjoy the good things but as soon as she feels neglected she starts scheming." He glanced at Yarah. "To think such beauty would cause such a mess."
He then looked back Raya. "What is your decision?"
Krantz glanced over as Fallensteller arrived with her group at the courtyard. Huh, she looks healthy now compared to her ghostly appearance yesterday. He studied her for a moment, wondering exactly what had happened, before shifting a bit in his seat and drawing out a cigarette and his lighter.
As Krantz lit his cigarette and puffed away, focused on current events, Váradi was dwelling on the dream he had the night before. The only way to ensure Ungria's future was to align with Raum. To save the men and women aboard the Eisenstrasse, and the men and women of the Empire back home. To ensure their ultimate victory over Pavolvia, its allies, and possibly the world. But there were several problems before him at the moment.
The Admiral was the primary threat. The goal of the 'man' was to slay Raum, and he could very easily kill off anyone in the fleet aligned with Raum. Krantz, the captain of the Eisenstrasse and his commander, was the next. The idiot was bent on killing Raum just like the Admiral and all these other fools. Determined to run headlong into their deaths, and take the people beneath them with them. He couldn't just eliminate Krantz, not with that demon Kyndreth next to him. His 'wife' would prove most difficult to kill, considering she now knew how to use firearms. Who knew what else she could do? Especially with that sword of hers.
Eventually, Fallensteller's group caught his eye as well. There was the suspected chief Raum follower herself, red eyes and all. She looked positively glowing today. Likely the work of some spell. He'd need to talk to her soon. She likely could be the only person he could trust in this endeavour at the moment. But he'd have to do it out of view and earshot from everyone. Nobody could know that they were working together. That's the difficult part.
The previous night
Fontaine was greeted back on board the Eye of Horus by Karam, Graves and a few of the company men. Although they did not miss him terribly, both were curious to learn what their captain learned while on board the Mariner's boon. Graves also noticed that the two men that went with him haven't made the return home. Karam on the other hand noticed something else. The signs that Reginald had been drinking were there, but it didn't look like he had enjoyed himself too much. Something sobered him up. He had the same neutral expression he always maintained when he was alone or among those close to him to hide his thoughts, but something in his eyes betrayed him.
"I trust the evening went well captain."
"It was...interesting." Fontaine said as he stepped off the boat and on to the ship's floor. "Seaking of, anything interesting happen while I was away?"
"Captain Jäger requested the 'special ammunition', it seems that other captains are seeing things your way."
"I know they do. They always do." Reginald didn't stop to talk, he continued to walk towards his quarters. Karam and Graves following close behind "I'll talk details with him in the morning. See who to send and how much."
"Speaking of, where are our two experts?"
"Still on the Boon, they have a lot of ground to cover and it can't be done in just one night. We'll pick them up when they are ready." Fontaine stopped once he reached his door "We still have to attend that trial, so I expect both of you to be ready by tomorrow."
"Captain, before you retire for the night." Karam began "What did you discuss with captain Tobey? I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't something that clearly affected you."
Fontaine looked towards Karam, he was getting annoyed with the conversation quickly "Strictly business. That's all. Further details will be disclosed in due time." He cut it there and shut the door behind him. Graves gave the first mate a worried look. This was strange behaviour from their captain and didn't like where it might be going. Even so, there was little that they could do but wait for the morning.
---
Now
Fontaine's delegation would arrive minutes after Fallensteller. The group composition was almost identical as the previous day. With Reginald leading them, followed by Karam and the newcomer, Graves. They were of course escorted by several of the company's men. As much as they resembled brutes in uniforms, Graves had managed to not only keep them in formation, but whip them into a presentable shape. A snake in the grass she may have been, but Mallery was right about the projected image. He could only imagine how the slobs looked yesterday.
Sitting down in their seats, Fontaine had a good view of the rest of the fleet. Resting his hands on his cane in front of him, he scanned the captains that had gathered as well as their retinues. Jáger's absence was out of place, since he gave the impression that he was punctual despite his attitude. 'Buying time for your guilty crew? Are you really that soft?'
Krantz had a new companion and she looked peculiar, reminded him of Jäger's own companion 'Did you learn the same tricks from him you old dog? Or is this someone who has always been there? And Von Straus is gone too. Something you're not letting on?'
Next he noticed Fallensteller, who no longer looked like a ghost, but like a living breathing person. 'Was yesterday just a fashion statement to draw attention away from your eyes, or does this have something to do with those?'
Finally he looked towards the admiral and wondered if his own investigation would become a topic. Then again, the case was shut just as soon as it was opened and the ship's control was held in his iron fist. That threat had been dealt with.
Cattapoli, Blitzwave
Yarah was forced into silence, standing beside Jager with a serious pout, flushed face, and crossed arms. She was like a child throwing a tantrum. Whatever relation she had with Raya-kei was unclear, but it certainly wasn't a very good one. The new succubus continued to smirk in Yarah's direction.
Raya eyed Jager's revolver a bit distantly, trying to remain uninterested and expressionless, though there was an uncomfortable glean in her eye. Demons of their nature and level were quite adverse to silver. She may not have known exactly what the device was, but the way he held it and placed silver in it clearly led her to believe that it wasn't something she wanted to risk dealing with. Even Yarah took a tiny step to the side when he brandished the silver bullet and gun.
Yarah made an even more sour look when Jager reprimanded her, though she turned her glare to Raya when the other succubus spoke up.
"Yarah-kei has always been such a handful. Always complaining and constantly being punished. If her pillow wasn't too warm, it was too cold. That her silk blanket was too rough. That there weren't enough pets, or that there wasn't enough light in the concubine pit." she grinned. "Our our old mistress had her muzzled when she had to do chores. Of course she was muzzled with other things when she was with the concubines, but thats beside the point. She can't stop waggling that tongue of hers so its always been better to keep it occupied."
"As for myself, this has all been a terrifically fun little diversion. It was so nice to see little Yarah again, but really, I won't be sticking around. I was concerned at first when I felt the summoning, but its clear you need a little more practice, human. Have fun with... whatever is going on here," she said with a smug little smirk. Raya raised her right hand and snapped her fingers.
Nothing happened. She snapped them again, and nothing happened again. The succubus' expression twisted into one of confusion and then concern as she made a series of hand gestures and muttered something. Whatever she was trying to do clearly wasn't working. Therasmus could sense a tiny flash of magic with each gesture she made, but it was only a minuscule little spark. It was like a lighter sparking but being unable to light. She was failing to ignite any sorcery despite her best efforts.
"A-ah... well... um, it would seem that... perhaps... I will be spending a little longer here after all," Raya-kei said with a fake, cheesy smile. "War and conquest, was it? Quite nice. Charming, really. I know a thing or two about war and all that... war stuff. Ahh... what war are we fighting in?" She asked with a nervous chuckle, suddenly trying to change the subject.
Yarah looked like a pleased cat which had drank an entire saucer full of milk. It was as if the smug aura of Raya had been directly transferred to Yarah.
Cattapoli, Consulate
Most captains and their groups had already arrived, though there were a few that were still absent. Mannfred checked his pocket watch as time ticked on closer to the start of the meeting for today. Jager was close to running late, though he didn't think the man was trying to skip out on the trial of his own soldier. He wondered what could possibly be keeping him. From what he knew of them man, he would probably walk in exactly on time, if not a minute late, just to make a statement.
"Please settle in everyone, we'll be starting shortly once the last few groups arrive. Help yourselves to the refreshments at your leisure," the admiral announced to everyone. Some consulate servants were passing out food again, along with water and wine. It seemed that the humans were treated fairly well, at least when the admiral was around.
At the far end of the courtyard, some with sharp eyes may notice two beastfolk shrouded in red robes and white face masks loitering in the darkness of the covered archway that surrounded the courtyard. They were more than a few dozen meters away and easy to overlook.
There was a loud crack and a pang as the hammer made contact with the metal-plated workshop floor, shattering the ornate cursed skull into tiny pieces which scattered about the floor. A group of technicians, the superstitious type who feared ritual more than anyone else on the vessel, ran up to the commotion in a nearly-panicked state. Who let this freak into our workshop? Is that a fucking skull? They were mortified, after so many dark incidents aboard the ship, many assumed they were in imminent danger. They seized onto Mesahri, who fought her way backwards before launching herself upwards and clinging to the high roof in terror of the mob. "It was cursed, I had to destroy it!" she tried to explain, but they hurled vitriol at her in such a craze that nobody could understand, even if they chose to listen.
At the far end of the room, there was a screech- the whole group turned to see Lunaire, the youngest of the bats, flying toward them at full speed. She had been visiting with Braam, who in turn was visiting with the older sailors from his wrecked ship, Kaus and Dannac, who by now had integrated themselves effectively as custodians on the workshop deck. She flew in, beating her wings to slow as she reached them, screaming in a mixture of Gren and her native tongue. "Stop!" and "No get!" were among the things she shouted tearfully as she slapped at the grown men and women assaulting Mesahri, who backed away in confusion as to what to do about the little girl; they were afraid to strike back- even if she was a creature and another so-called freak.
"[Lunaire, get back!]" Mesahri called down to her. "[They won't hurt me, it's just a misunderstanding!]"
Now Braam had run up to the commotion, afraid for Lunaire's safety as well, and the technicians were brought to a calm by the presence of multiple children. "O-okay, stop, alright? We wont-" one of the men tried to reason.
Another looked to Mesahri. "What were you even doing?" he asked in an accusatory manner.
Mesahri answered indignantly. "I told you already! That skull was cursed; I had to destroy it. The Captain approved me destroying it!"
"Where did it come from?" a woman asked.
"Captain Tobey bought it on Veranhal and gave it to the Captain; I don't think either of them knew what they had." She dropped from the ceiling and landed gracefully in front of the people who had been accosting her. Lunaire ran up and gave her a hug, frightened tears in her eyes, and Mesahri, despite being unrelated to the girl, felt almost like an older sister in the moment. "[It's alright...]" she assured her as she patted her on the head before turning back to the mob. "I had a dream last night that warned me about this sea. An ancestor of mine believes that I'm in danger, and he wanted me to construct a sacred item. I needed bone from one of my kin, and this was the closest I could get... But most importantly, the skull, the way it was, was an evil thing, and now it's gone."
"So we're better off..." one of the technicians commented.
There was an uncomfortable round of apologies offered, but most of the technicians who weren't at the forefront of the mob dispersed without even acknowledging the hateful things that had said to the bat. Mesahri, Lunaire, and Braam set about picking up the numerous fragments of bone on the ground, slipping it all into one of Mesahri's uniform pockets. "Why human people be hate at us?" Lunaire grumbled in stilted Gren. Mesahri was about to answer when she realized Lunaire was talking to Braam.
---
Fallensteller's group surveyed the courtyard for the second day of activities. Maybe this time, Dobbs will shut his insufferable mouth, Fallensteller thought as she viewed the Vice Admiral. At least Ackermann isn't with him, she noted. And Krantz...!!! Fallensteller instantly gawked at the demon accompanying Krantz to the meeting. When Jäger put his own demon on display the previous day, it was far less shocking, as the Gothian captain seemed the sort to overestimate his own expertise enough to dabble with dark forces. That was, after all, how she attempted to manipulate him the previous day. However, Krantz was a different sort of Captain. He didn't even try to hide her... What in the God-damned Hell does that mean?
Fallensteller could sense, in the most vague sense, that there was another hidden presence about. Not demonic, but rather something which bothered her deeply on an existential level. Her mind raced- Calcifer wouldn't have done this... it must be the work of that petty god, Shalo. But if Krantz doesn't hide his new servant the way Jäger did, then that must mean Calcifer is aware and endorsing it... and if Shalo is actively working with Calcifer, then she's far more of a threat than I assumed before. Fallensteller suddenly became aware of the look she was giving in Krantz' direction, of an intensity totally befitting of her ladylike persona. Her lip was curled in a twitching snarl of abject hatred and equally paralyzing fear. If Shalo is here... what if she's here... what will it mean? What will I do!?
"Captain, are you alright?" Kirsch said, cautiously tapping her on the shoulder.
The Captain shook the look off her face at last, turning to her helmsman. "Captain Krantz has brought a demon to the assembly," she said.
"What!?" Kirsch said, looking over at Kyndreth. "Oh gods!" he said with a gasp.
Likewise, Schuster was stunned, but said nothing. He, unlike Kirsch, fully understood the rules of the game.
Think, dammit! Fallensteller demanded of herself. She looked and saw Váradi as well, which brought her some calm, but not enough. Von Strauss wasn't present, which made things more difficult. It forced her to consider the possibility that von Strauss was merely trying to sew chaos, and that confronting the man about his royal lineage or his spiritual alignment would end with a serious uproar. Master will speak for me, she tried to assure herself. She avoided even looking in the Admiral's direction. The two of them knew and hated each other, so there was use in staring at him from afar. Lord protect me, I hate these fucking people...
Krantz watched Fallensteller, taking note of the look she was giving him. Likely because of the demon standing at an angle from his back. She was likely putting two and two together. Frankly he didn't care, as the truth would reveal itself shortly. He glanced over his shoulder to Kyndreth. "If you wish, you may introduce yourself to the other captains that have arrived as well." he said, motioning to Fontaine and Fallensteller's tables.
Jäger grunted at the fact that Raya was now within hks domain. Th door opened and Kahleen, followed by Gavrilov and Fallstrom, stepped inside with stern expressions. "We heard sounds," said Sari before laying her eyes on Raya.
"Oh."
Jäger holstered his pistol. "Gavrilov. Fallstrom. Restrain our new guest. Yarah, you will keep her company. No fighting, but you may speak to her. Kahleen, you'll stay here as well. Watch over them."
Kahleen nodded as Gavrilov and Fallstrom lifted Raya with ease, placed her on a chair and tied her down. "Don't worry captain, we'll keep things under control."
Jäger nodded and turned to face Therasmus. "Let us. The meeting awaits us."
---
Just five minutes before the trial was set to begin five Gothian vehicles entered the consulate grounds and parked in a semi-circle. Marines in plate armor carrying SMGs and automatic rifles stepped out to form a protective perimeter.
Four Cavalier soldiers shielded Sergeant Torsson, Therasmus and Captain Jäger as they marched towards the courtyard. The Cavaliers had chosen to not wear their helmets, revealing their menacing executioner-looking masks instead.
With just one minute left Jäger and Torsson arrived at their table, sat down and folded their hands. The Cavaliers remained standing behind them. Their cold stares eyed everyone with suspicion.
Therasmus was left to sit where he pleased.
Jäger bowed his head. "Pardon our delayed arrival, I had to convince Torsson's comrades to stay behind ln the ship. There were alot of objections as you could imagine."
Therasmus stared on at the succubus as she attempted to make an escape, clearly not so violent and stupid to try attacking the group of them. Even still he pinned her for the more covert time, if she were waiting to slit their throats they would make the attempt when it wasn't expected. Still, the fact that she wasn't bound to Jager was quite dangerous indeed. To have a demon moving about the fleet without being bound would put them in a situation quite similar to his own. And he couldn't have that, could he?
"Hm... quite intriguing. Perhaps I should give you more credit, Captain." the demon states upon seeing her comedic failure to plane-shift. "Perhaps she is bound to this realm now instead of yourself? Perhaps even this room or ship..? Would require some further testing I think but..." His deliberations were cut short by the captain's call to move toward their meeting, "Indeed, time grows short." With that, he followed the captain out of the room.
-------------------------------------------------------
Once they arrived at the meeting Therasmus gave Jager a nod in acknowledgement and as an informal-yet-temporary goodbye, and he returned to the table he sat at last time, fingers tapping against the surface as they did once before.
"What is it we are discussing today? Murder... laws... something to that effect, yes? Hm. Ultimately... trivial, if you ask me. But perhaps there is value to such matters. Relevancy has a funny way of sneaking into the most odd places, I find."
Cattapoli, Blitzwave
Raya looked affronted at the idea that she would be detained by the humans. She took a step back, holding her hand out to Gavrilov and Fallstrom as if that would be sufficient to ward them away.
"Stay away from me! I'm a master fighter, I'll kill you!" Raya-kei shouted, baring her fingers as if they were claws.
"No she isn't," Yarah-kei snickered. "You could knock her over with a light breeze. Go on, this wouldn't be the first time humans manhandled her."
The succubus continued to protest, waving her arms to shoo the approaching humans off, but Gavrilov and Fallstrom easily picked her up by either arm and settled her into one of the chairs. They tied her in without much effort, leaving Raya to kick her feet a bit. "H-hey, come on! I was the head maid for a goddess! A goddess, you hear me!"
Yarah just rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. "Yeah, head maid alright. Anyways, I'll keep her under control, master. This is my specialty."
The tied up demon didn't have a retort as she just wiggled slightly in her bindings. She sent Jager a pleading look but he was already on his way out with Therasmus. Once they were both gone, Yarah put her hands on her hips and glanced over Kahleen, Gavrilov, and Fallstrom.
"Since this is a demon matter, I'm in charge. Captain Jager said so," she said with a prissy little upturn of the face.
Cattapoli, Zuflucht
Braam glanced nervously around at the older sailors who had assaulted and shouted at Mesahri as they began to filter away. He was taken aback by Lunaire's sudden flight into the situation and he had no choice but to follow along. It was hard to tell if some of the crewmen were really dangerous or not. For all their similarities with people of his time, there were lots of differences, too. Some of them cultural, others were simply a matter of being displaced from his own time. The language barrier was an issue at first, though his grasp of Gren was remarkable in the short amount of time he had been with them all. He always had a knack for language, which he credited to reading lots of medical books.
Picking up the bone fragments on the ground alongside the two bats didn't bother him as it may have for some people. It wasn't the first time he had to handle pieces of bone, and these weren't all that different from a human's anyways. Broken bones from sailing were common enough. Sometimes they got caught up in a fight, and a musket ball would shatter bone into dozens of tiny splinters. One time, a man had his head cracked open by a loose sail hook which had fallen from the rigging and swung free. He helped his mentor and the ship's surgeon at the time pick pieces of bone from the man's brain, though of course the sailor had ended up dying soon after. The man hadn't been able to say a word since he had been hit, and he only blinked a few times. It was strange.
Lunaire's words brought him back out of his memories, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Ah... um... people have been angry since... forever, sorta. There is fighting almost all the time. I wouldn't let it get to you," he said, trying to sound cheerful, "they'll get over it in time, usually."
Or so I hope, he added to himself, casting another glance over the other engineers. Being on this ship - this time period - was still disorienting. He still privately debated if he was dead or alive, and if any of this was real. Perhaps this was all his imagination as he lay dying somewhere, or drowning in the ocean. Maybe it was some strange afterlife. With all these matters of superstition, demons, and talking animals... it was like he was in a fairy tale. And the worst of it all was Fallensteller.
Was she or was she not the devil? It was hard to say. He had seen her before when he was feverish as a child, and apparently close to death. Seeing her again was chilling, but to serve aboard her ship and to find out he was living in the future made it all the more strange. He did his best to think about other things when around her, because he was pretty sure she could read minds or something.
Once had had picked up most of the bone bits around him, he held them out for Mesahri with both hands and helped to put them away for her.
Cattapoli, Consulate
"Introduce myself?" Kyndreth asked inquisitively to Krantz, glancing over at some of the other members of the meeting. She felt uneasy about Fallensteller, for she sensed the woman's undeath, and she had unconsciously placed herself in a position that put her a little more between her and Krantz.
"Wouldn't it be best if I didn't? It seems unwise to me to announce myself to all these people. Anyone of them could be a danger, sir."
---
Soon afterwards, Jager had arrived to the scene as the last major captain to arrive. Just about everyone else was already settled. Drinks and food had been passed out all around the gathered assembly. Hardly the most proper environment or protocol for what was to be essentially a courtroom, but it mattered little. Things were already different enough here as it stood that the refreshments barely made much more of a difference.
Admiral Mannfred eyed the Cavalier soldiers with a blank, though curious expression. The extra muscle and armor was an interesting addition to the meeting today. While many others had arrived armed or with their own guards, marines from the Revenant were stationed around the perimeter of the courtyard with their rifles at parade rest. A few more lurked about in the shadows, clearly a little more alert and less for appearances. Master Sergeant Donovan was at the back of the assembly as he had been last time, relaxing in a chair while two junior soldiers stood beside him.
"Understandable, Captain Jager. Rest easy," Mannfred said simply, glancing at his pocket watch. The man still technically arrived on time.
Therasmus settled back into the table with the officers from the Revenant, as he had sat here last time. One of the officers there, an ensign by his insignia, glanced the demon over oddly as he rambled slightly.
"Well, laws are what hold together our society. They maintain order. Hardly a trivial matter in that regard, if you look at it that way, don't you think?" The bespectacled young ensign said.
After a few more minutes as everyone else got completely settled, Admiral Mannfred strode to the front of the assembly.
"Good morning, everyone, and welcome. We have a few things to go over today. The main course of this meeting is the trial of Sergeant Torsson and Mister Norrys for the unlawful killing of civilians the night of the inferno at the docks. The trial will be conducted in the formality of a Brunswick naval tribunal, in which I will preside as judge, the captains and their associates as the jury, and the captains of the accused as the defendants for their men. We will get more into this shortly. First, however, there is another announcement."
"Some of you may be aware that there is a goddess, Shalo, who resides on the island of Niakoma. She is an ally of our efforts, and has elected to join forces with us to combat the resurrection of the dark god Raum. She will be most helpful in assisting us in ancient matters of history, as well as offering insight into demons and sorcery. Her power, unfortunately, is considerably weakened and she exists in a much weakened, non-human state," he said, pausing and turning to look at the other end of the courtyard behind him.
Taking his signal, two red robed individuals with featureless white face masks stepped out from the shadows of the perimeter walkway which surrounded the courtyard. One carried a familiar globular incense burner in their hands, which swung gently on some chain, while the other held a skull with a candle burning on top of it. As they stepped out and approached, they were followed by two more identically dressed individuals. These two were carrying a litter in which a fluffy white cat was sitting on. The feline in question was resting in a bowl shaped section that was covered in soft red velvet, and the cat was looking rather lavish. It had bright, piercing blue eyes, with a matching blue ribbon tied around its neck and atop of its head. Her fur was pristine and well groomed.
Following the two carrying the litter were another two more red robed individuals, this time both carrying long glaives. Their strut was a little more focused, and while the entire group seemed ceremonial, they had the air of real and lethal guards.
Lastly, a small band followed. One was playing a rhythmic beat on a large drum; another was shaking some instrument with sand or beads within it; a third was playing a melody on a reeded wood instrument; and two more were playing tambourines [[sound warning]]. This group wore the same robes as the others, but their white facemasks were hanging from their belts. To make up for it they wore their hoods low over their heads, concealing most of their features. Based on their physique and tails, however, almost all seemed to be Niakoman or Omaen.
The music was rather lively and energetic. To see it accompanying a smaller procession of this size was a little odd, as it seemed almost like it should be the prelude to a parade or carnival.
The group made their way to the front of the assembly, where Mannfred took a step aside to allow for the two beastfolk carrying the litter to take the center. They held the transport device steady as the white cat on it looked out over those who were gathered. There was a distinct regal air to her, even for a cat of her stature. Her eyes seemed to brighten as she raised one paw up, like a hand to wave with, and the music stopped instantly.
"You all look so splendid and wonderful in those remarkable uniforms of yours," she spoke aloud, her voice loud and clear with a lavish accent. "Its been so long since I have seen so many humans gathered in one spot, aside from the admiral's infrequent visits. Fashion has certainly changed over the years. Quite pleasing, though a little... conservative, I think."
"Regardless, as already mentioned, I am Shalo." She introduced herself with a little, polite bow of the head. "I will be helping you all in your crusade. It is a pleasure to meet you all."
Her tone was pleasant and cordial, but there was an unmistakable superiority held in her manner of speech and appearance.
Being in the presence of this feline goddess instilled a small sense of awe in most of those gathered. It seemed to be a side affect of being in the presence of a god, for those who met Farryn would feel a similar sensation. Subtle and not overwhelming, but distinct. For those with darker spirits in their hearts, the feeling was a little less pleasant and inspiring - it instead being a little anxiety inducing. Not fear, but an unease, a slight tension like when one lays awake in an unfamiliar place. It seemed the gentle sorcery in the air reacted to different types, and light and dark did not mix too happily.
Jäger smiled as Shalo and her entourage arrived. The Cavaliers maintained a neutral expression. "Blessings upon you Shalo, I did not think we would meet again so soon," said Jäger after bowing his head in respect.
---
Kahleen stared at Yarah. She gave her a fake smile. "If you say so, demon." She practically spat out the last word of the sentence. Kahleen then took a seat and placed her pistol infront of her. It was fully loaded with silver-tipped bullets.
Kahleen's eyes were locked on Yarah. Meanwhile Gavrilov and Fallstrom remained silent. They knew better than to ask questions.
"So," started Kahleen as her eyes moved over to Raya. "What can you tell me about yourself? Remember to not tell any lies, I'm sure the captain would be delighted to know that you are cooperative. Alternatively he would be pleased to know that Yarah here stopped a possible threat, wouldn't he Yarah?"
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