Kahleen faked a smiled. "Yes, actually there's another thing." Kahleen then stepped forward, standing mere inches away from Von Strauss' face.
"Insult my name again and I will kill you. There is no room in this fleet for deceivers and traitors."
"Insult my name again and I will kill you. There is no room in this fleet for deceivers and traitors."
Von Strauss' smile turned into a frown. "Quite the killjoy, aren't you? Nobody likes killjoys." she responded.
She then sighed, and gently tilted her glasses down with her free hand so that the piercing yellow eyes behind them could be seen. They were practically glowing in dying light of the day. "If I should find you in my way, Kahleen, you'll be the one dying. And trust me, you won't see it coming...it will certainly be creative."
When she finished her statement, the frown twisted into a grin as she slipped the glasses back up to their previous position. "Now, you should probably tend to your Captain. After all, Fallensteller's the larger threat to the fleet than I am."
There was no reaction to the threat. In fact, Kahleen had been expecting it. It was foolish to assume that Von Strauss would back down. As for the apology, Kahleen knew well that it wasn't sincere. She wouldn't be surprised if Krantz had ordered it.
Kahleen grunted. "I'm not worried. Half the fleet watch her every move. You on the other hand...Not as many see you for who you are. Even now I can feel it, your aura. Your thoughts. Ambitions. Everything."
"I'm not worried. Half the fleet watch her every move. You on the other hand...Not as many see you for who you are. Even now I can feel it, your aura. Your thoughts. Ambitions. Everything."
"Oh? And what are your senses telling you?" asked Von Strauss, tilting her head and letting her grin return to a simple smile. She was curious as to what Kahleen could feel, really. Or what those rocks of hers had told her. "Just what do you think my goals in all of this are?"
Kahleen smiled once more, leaned in and whispered into Von Strauss' ear.
"Chaos," she said with a playful smile. This smile however was not fake. Kahleen had found her prey.
"Ahhh. Well now, that's just part of it." Von Strauss whispered back. "I have far greater things in mind than just that alone." Her own smile remained.
"Let us see how that'll work out for you," replied Kahleen. She bowed her head and walked off. In the back Torsson was escorted to Jäger and the others.
Cattapoli, Sun Meadow Square
Punishment
As the fleet delegations began to depart or otherwise talk among themselves, Admiral Mannfred joined Captain Murdoch and some medical officials in examining Norrys' body which was still laying on a stretcher below the platform. The beastfolk had insisted that he was alive when the whipping was done, and that he was breathing when Torsson was tied to the posts. The medical officer present, surgeon and physician Reynolds, was still trying to figure out what killed the man.
"He isn't a hemophiliac, sir," he explained to the admiral as he glanced down at the body. "There is no evidence of prior bruising to signify that was the case, and I don't recall seeing his name on the fleet medical records for such a serious condition. And I wouldn't have expected to see a hemophiliac in the fleet, anyways. Cardiac arrest is possible, I suppose, though that doesn't seem quite right. It is entirely possible it was induced by shock from the flogging itself, but that wouldn't explain the bleeding."
They all glanced over the body again. Norrys was still bleeding, though at this point there was not that much left to bleed. Bandaging his back would have been useless, and likely painful. It was supposed to clot by itself while powder and salt was provided to help heal the wound. The bandages would have fused with the skin if left on at this point.
Mannfred crossed his arms and held his chin in his hand as he thought about the situation. Personally, he really did not care about the death of Norrys. He had originally proposed the death penalty for him and Torsson, but the issue lay with his somewhat unexpected death, and how the fleet would take it. Death by flogging was not a humane way to go, since the punishment itself was far from it. It wasn't unheard of for people to die from the punishment, but usually that was almost always from infection afterwards. Seventy lashes on the back was not an immediate death sentence, except for perhaps a hemophiliac as already mentioned - but he was not one, and even if he was, he would have bled out even after the first hit.
"Any signs of poisoning?" Mannfred asked.
Reynolds adjusted his spectacles as his mustache bristled. "I can't say for sure at the moment. There would have to be tests made... visually, I don't see any signs of that. Do you think it was that bat who poisoned him? That was indeed highly irregular, but the girl seemed only a child," he explained.
"Who is in service to Fallensteller," Murdoch said quietly, earning a few frowns from the others. That was a concerning point.
"It may be possible, among other things," Mannfred said with a little sigh. This wasn't the time or place to debate it, but there may be some fallout to deal with for this. He couldn't sense anything on the body, even with his severely limited demonic abilities. A curse or hex was a possible method, but when did she ever come into contact with Norrys? Did the bat pluck the man's hair? And if the bat had done so, there was no evidence of Fallensteller performing such a spell. Death always surrounds Raum worshipers and their ilk, he knew, but this was a curious matter.
"We'll take brief possession of the body. Draw some of the blood and take samples, and after that we'll return the body to Captain Tobey. I doubt he is very pleased, though I think he has already left the square."
The crew of the Revenant went about their duties as the platoon of sailors marched back to the bay, and the medical orderlies were attending to Norrys. Torsonn had been let go to return with Captain Jager, so once he had been moved along, they placed Norrys on a wagon and took off as well.
---
At the same time, a telegraph had been issued to all ships from the Revenant. It was a simple message signifying that tomorrow they would be leaving the islands.
[FLEET COMM TELEGRAPH]
Sailing orders forthcoming STOP
15 February 1898 STOP
11:00AM or 1100 hours STOP
Destination Nadesh STOP
--
Fallensteller's lip twitched as Krantz baited her, but she held her tongue and allowed Jäger to respond first. The Gothian was quite gracious, surprising for a man with such vanity. When it was her own turn to respond, she replied flatly. "We are about to embark on a mission that will result in the mass slaughter of civilians, some of them only guilty of worshipping the wrong god. Our intrepid Captains are arranging the distribution of deadly gasses as we speak. I can guarantee that there will be little or no reproach for officers who take excessive action in the effort to prevent Raum's return.
"Not that there's anything wrong with doing what's necessary to achieve our aims, but it speaks volumes to our inconsistency.
"In addition," she added without the usual smugness that accompanied her diatribes, "this fleet will likely never return to this place. We have barely entered this horrible place, and the worst is yet to come. If we survive, we'll be so deep into the Lost Sea that it would be easier and more direct to sail out the other side then come back the way we came.
"The 'people' of this land, if you can call them that, are less civilized than some of the more prosperous colonies of the Old World. Yet unlike those exploited territories, Catten has provided little of use to our expedition while expecting us to sacrifice our own to rid them of their heresy. We owe them nothing for the most basic hospitality of allowing our ships to port. With that in mind, I see Norrys' death as the most heartbreaking loss of this entire voyage thus far.
"All that said, I wish you and your crew a safe flight to Nadesh. You are always welcome to dock on my ship for any reason, despite our disagreements."
Von Strauss watched Kahleen as she quietly strolled off, back to where Torsson was. I think it'll work out beautifully for me, Kahleen. The question is will you be there to see me revel in it? I hope so, because it'd be a shame if I had to gut you first. She grinned, as she let her hand slip back into her coat. She returned to looking around again, glancing over to where Fallensteller, Jäger, Krantz, and Kyndreth were still standing.
---
"All that said, I wish you and your crew a safe flight to Nadesh. You are always welcome to dock on my ship for any reason, despite our disagreements."
"And I wish you and yours a safe trip as well, Fallensteller. And thank you." replied Krantz, glancing to her as she finished. He was one of the few captains in the fleet that didn't want to use the gas or kill civilians. Even if these people were as corrupt as the Admiral made them out to be. People could be purified, just like the broken are mended and the ill cured. It just took time. And time wasn't something they had, obviously.
As for the peoples of the Cattan Islands, it wasn't too long ago that humans in the Old World were the same way. Probably even less civilized in some nations. But now the Old World was now a mostly civilized place, and he chose to behave and respond to other cultures with civility. Not treat them like trash.
A moment later, he heard Váradi step up and speak. "The men are ready to depart, sir. Evening, Captain Fallensteller. Captain Jäger." he stated, saluting Krantz before slightly bowing to both Fallensteller and Jäger.
Fallensteller silently notched Krantz' lack of response to her numerous points as a rhetorical victory. Her words had clearly reached the man on some level, bringing the fleet's moral dissonance near to the surface, just short of open acknowledgement. With Váradi now prompting Krantz' exit from the scene, it was clear that Fallensteller would not have the chance to ask about the demon aside him. It didn't quite matter, however, since Váradi would soon become a private contact of hers and she could ask about it later.
"And a quiet evening to you, Mr. Váradi," she said, bowing slightly so that her exit would not be perceived as overly abrupt. Once she had rounded up her forces, Fallensteller led the march back to the docks personally. On her heels, Kirsch asked her about her comment to Krantz, inquiring how she was certain that the gas was already being distributed. She sharply scolded him. "Do you not think I keep a close watch on these sorts of matters?"
The conversation was short and from her tone, it seemed like the Captain was actually mourning for Norrys. In reality, she was simply preoccupied with the growing anxiety of Lunaire's disappearance. It wasn't until they reached the skiff and spoke with the riflemen guarding it whether they had seen a bat pass by that they confirmed their repeated sightings of bats in flight to and from the Zuflucht. "We saw two come, and three go," one of the two guards explained. "One of them came ashore in the skiff, right? She must have been one of the three that went."
"The others came for her..." Fallensteller mumbled out loud.
Schuster looked at the distant ship with growing concern. "Something's probably wrong."
Kirsch watched for the Captain's reaction, and felt a chill when she suddenly grinned. "I don't think so."
---
Earlier...
Lunaire stared at the scalpel offered to her, glancing between Dr. Keseberg's outstretched hand and his imploring eyes. She felt her joints turn to cement- not the work of magic, but her own nerves, freezing up now that she was asked to inflict that sort of pain on herself. Of course, the executioner could have done much worse to her earlier in the evening when she intruded on the ceremony, but being young and overly confident in her own security, she assumed that he wouldn't. It wasn't that she didn't want to "get started" as Keseberg had said, it was more that she was afraid of handling it herself.
"You can do it?" she pleaded.
Keseberg sighed. "I could indeed, but it works much better when you make the offering yourself. It's also up to you, how much you want to give... As you can imagine, the Captain gave all that she could manage," he explained, omitting the most important details, "and look how powerful she is. That's because Raum loves her, little one. By giving up the blood, it's like you enter into a new family. The more blood, the stronger the relation. And this family is one you want to be a part of."
The doctor didn't realize it, but he was actually damaging his case. Of all the things Lunaire had been warned of while growing up, disrespecting her ancestors was probably the most discouraged. "No want to angry old family," she said, looking slightly resigned. "I do that, other bats not like me much. I just want both Cap'n and bats like me both, but Mesahri and Bitara want me come back to village."
Keseberg, now seeing his error, frowned a bit. "They'll come around..." he said. "Mesahri already took a nick, but I don't think she gave enough. Maybe she isn't sure what she wants. That doesn't mean she should tell you what you can and can't do. Maybe, if you show what a good friend Raum can be, you can change Mesahri's mind. Bitara, too."
Lunaire's eyes lit up, and the doctor knew he had hit his mark. "O-okay. I think I can do it," she said. Taking up the knife she turned her arm over and studied the dark grey fur for a moment before looking back up with confusion. "Where good, good place to cut?"
The doctor examined her arm for a moment, using his thumb to cut off circulation for a moment and check for pulsing veins. When he had located a large one, he pointed it out. "Right here, just nick it and we'll do it slow. No need to make it a big mess..." he said, grabbing a metal pan for collection. When he turned back, Lunaire had already placed the blade right up to her skin and clinched her eyes closed.
"Master Raum..? C-can I be your friend?" she asked as she opened the vein in what would become a dangerously copious bloodletting.
The demon stood with his hands behind his back as the doctors began examining the corpse of Norrys, slowly walking toward the scene as the stretcher moved him elsewhere. Therasmus wasn't particularly concerned with the destination, but he did find it awfully unusual that there had been a death after these proceedings. "Odd. I thought the whole purpose of this escapade was to keep them alive." he stated from behind the admiral. "All of that fanfare and all of these... creatures about. It would have been far quicker and more efficient just to end them for their transgressions, yes?" Therasmus postulated. "Though it's odd... I wager that the full expertise of the subjects of punishment and torture are put to use with this fleet, given the pedigree of the event itself. My knowledge of medicine is lacking but... could there be something more to that man's passing? Hm... Unlikely, perhaps he was simply too weak to withstand it. What a waste of time."
As soon as Fallensteller departed, Krantz looked back to Jäger. "Captain Jäger, we should meet together sometime. We have much to discuss, and it would allow our demons to interact with one another. Feel free to send me a message via radio if you're up for it." stated Krantz, before turning back to Váradi. "Lets get going. We have much to prepare for." stated Krantz, before strolling past Váradi towards where the soldiers and honor guard were waiting.
As he walked, he waved for Von Strauss, whom quickly walked over from where she was still standing. "To the Eisenstrasse." he said, as they arrived at the troops. All saluted, and then they were off. Kyndreth walked beside him, while Váradi and Von Strauss followed close behind with the soldiers and honor guard.
After witnessing the scene, Dobbs and company took their leave and immediately left for the Dawnbreaker, not wanting to tarry around any longer and to prepare for the journey to Nadesh. Before entirely leaving however, he glanced back for a moment to see some of the captains and officers conversing among themselves. The subject of their conversations was unknown to him, but of particular interest was Fallensteller speaking with Krantz and his officers. Dobbs took a mental note of this as he finally departed.
[A Bit later]
Dobbs returned to his quarters and sat at his desk, pulling a pen and a paper. He immediately began scribbling notes regarding the fleet. Making connections. Plotting the web of heresy that had taken root. At the center of the paper he wrote: Fallensteller.
[A bit later again]
An intricate web had been drawn, stemming from the main culprit at the center. Lines drawn and labelled with relationships regarding this issue, including von Strauss, Ackermann, Kirsch, Krantz, Váradi, Tobey, and Jäger.
For Ackermann his connection was obvious, he despised Fallensteller and was tortured by her. She probably would seek to eliminate loose ends in any way. Ackermann would need to be watched. For von Strauss he was unsure, but he suspected some form of sympathy regarding the heretical alignment, especially after that spirited defense she had put up. He put her as "to be watched; moderate risk" As for Kirsch, he put the label "informant". He too would need as much protection as he could get. Tobey was also straightforward, he had leanings towards the occult, and after what happened at Campo Diablo made Dobbs wary of him. His label would be "Potential Heretic; High Risk". As for Jäger, Dobbs could only assume a man chasing after women like he did would be easily manipulated by Fallensteller. The label for him was: "Of particular concern; moderate risk"
What piqued him the most was Krantz and Váradi. Was Fallensteller trying to influence them? Or perhaps sow discord? Without any information, or proof, Dobbs could only assume. However,
from what he knew, Krantz was a man of integrity and dignity and would now so easily bow to this corruption. He could only assume the same for Váradi. He gave the two of them the label: "to be watched; low risk".
If only I could just blast that bitch away, this would all be resolved so easily... his mind whispered. If only it were that simple. No, he would need to exercise patience. Eventually, Fallensteller would slip up, and he would pounce for the kill at that moment.
Content with his work, Dobbs put down his pen and prepared to go to sleep. He removed his mechanical arm and took off his clothes and dressed into his nightwear before nearly climbing into bed. However, he stilled and stood quietly in place before doing so. I mustn't forget the ward to prevent nightmares. Dobbs remembered.
... after painting the necessary cross on his head, Dobbs still didn't feel quite tired and resigned to read a book before drifting off the sleep.
---
Vunor returned from the public display towards the docks, meeting with the other Bovine warriors once more.
["What was the occasion?"] Sahale asked with a curious look.
["Flogging. Two humans from the Admiral's fleet were sentenced after killing innocents. One of them appears to have died."] Vunor responded.
["Good riddance."] one of the warriors chimed in. ["Their dishonor should have voided their lives in the first place."]
Some of the other warriors grunted in agreement.
[some time later]
Vunor and the other warriors approached the Eye of Horus on the docks. Some of the warriors took the time to marvel over this technological innovation floating before them.
["How do they make steel float I wonder?"] one of the warriors pondered out loud.
["Perhaps they would make great use of your gas when you sleep at night!"] another joked, causing a few of them to laugh.
Vunor stood at front and attempted to hail the crew.
---
Nita walked around the Eisenstrasse, somewhat bored as she tried to kill the time. She now had a small holster around her belt with a small pistol within it. Although a bit clumsy with it due to her large hand size compared to that of a human, she nonetheless was taught by von Strauss on how to wield and fire it. She still preferred her own fighting style with magic, but then again this was a backup. She leaned on the railing and lost herself in thought for a bit until she spotted von Strauss and company returning. She waved to her as she leaned on the railing of the ship.
Jäger thanked both Fallensteller and Krantz before heading over to his own men. Torsson appeared pale and exhausted but at the very least he was still standing.
Eventually the Gothians- and Therasmus- made their way back to the vehicles and then to their landing craft waiting at the harbor.
---
Once the delegation had returned to the ship it split up into several smaller groups. Högborg and some of the command staff went for the bridge, the soldiers returned to the barracks, Sandrina and Torsson made for the medical bay while Jäger, Kahleen and Therasmus returned to the conference room.
Fallstrom and Gavrilov were quick to get on their feet and salute. Yarah was seated at the table and Raya was still tied up to one of the chairs.
"Well, let's get this over with," said Jäger.
He looked at Raya. "I don't enjoy this but I'd rather not wake up to you clawing my heart out. I hope you can forgive me."
With that said Jäger began the ritual. Using his new knowledge from Shalo- and her voice to guide him- he got to work and repair his previous ritual.
As the group approached where the Eisenstrasse was hovering, Von Strauss waved back to Nita after noticing her leaning on one of the outer railings of the lower bridge. It wouldn't be too long before the group was inside the Eisenstrasse, really, as the elevator was already lowered down for them to board. The honor guard and soldiers quietly returned to the barracks, as Krantz and the rest of the commanding group departed for various sections of the vessel. Váradi moved to the Armory to look over the shipment of shotguns and ammunition that had been sent over Fontaine's group. He also wanted to look over the small canisters of gas that he had hidden, waiting to be issued to the men under his command when the time came.
Von Strauss went in search of the others that they had recruited in the islands, rounding them up so that they could continue their studies and training. The main issue with them was the lack of understanding of Gren. That was being rectified by Von Strauss personally along with a few of the soldiers, Kass, and Nita. They'd hopefully know the basics by the time the group reached Nadesh. They wouldn't be participating in the actual battle, of course, but would know what to do if they had to help out.
Krantz, meanwhile, went to where he always did. The bridge. He was caught up to any messages that had arrived during their time away. Orders to head out tomorrow from the Revenant. 11 AM. Then a few days sail to Nadesh. Right into battle. He'd have to get Kyndreth caught up on battle tactics that his men used in the field, as he'd be joining them in the field. Nothing inspires them troops like having their leaders fight alongside them. The Emperor himself proved that.
A thought did pop into his head, though, as he stood at the observation window with Kyndreth at his side. Kyndreth seemed to be strictly a physical combat oriented demon. What if they encountered sorcerers or sorceresses? Or some sort of enchantments? He'd need someone talented in the magical arts as well. And Shalo had given him a list of demons that he could summon. He pondered the names she had planted into his head for a moment, and one came to mind. Hraban...something about that name stuck out to him. After a few minutes of dwelling on it, he decided. Before they set sail in the morning for Nadesh, he'd summon this Hraban.
---
Later that night, Váradi found himself standing in his room. The lamps in the room had been dimmed a bit, and he found himself looking down at a candle fitted to a brass candlestick. Usually, these were only used in emergencies, but they had plenty of them in the event the lights went out. In front of him, one of the large mirrors found in most of the officer quarters. He glanced to the clock. Well, it was close to midnight. If he had this right, he just had to just light the candle and hold it up to the mirror. Seemed simple enough. He took one of the matches out of the box on the dresser, struck it, and lit the tip of the candle.
"Well, here goes nothing." he muttered, watching the candle flicker for a moment before holding it up to the mirror.
The Columbian delegation had remained quiet and to kept to itself during the delivery of punishment. They stood and observed as the horrific display was unfolded in front of them. Quite appropriate that they were dressed as if it were a funeral. Fontaine was wearing a three piece suit that at first glance would appear very simple and beneath his financial status, but upon closer inspection, one would notice the fine fabric made by a custom tailor on Main street. He was rarely a man to wear a hat, but the suit came with a top hat to complete the set. He could feel someone in the back try to get a better look at the flogging by trying to look past it. Karam stood by his right, wearing the same ceremonial uniform he wore the other night. His beard slightly trimmed to look more presentable. And to Reginald's left stood Graves, wearing a the company uniform worn by officers, it's gray and black fitting well with the general 'theme' the Black river representatives had.
As the event kept going, Fontaine made note of the occurences. The bat, the weird giggling, the death and the subsequent arguing followed by his fellow captains. There was little time to delay once the whole ordeal was over however. As much as he wanted to sit and listen in on some of the conversations, they had to move back to the ship. The demand for the gas was high and he had to make sure the supply would meet it.
The Columbians left for the harbor with little interaction with the others, affording only a tip of a hat here and wishing good luck in the upcoming battle there. When they arrived, they were met by the group of bovine warriors waiting for them.
"Mr. Vunor. I see you've made it." Fontaine greeted the shaman "The platform will descend shortly to take us up, but while we wait, let me introduce you. To my right is my first mate, Karam Vaikar and to my right is my lead enforcer Graves." He looked over the beastmen that came with Vunor "I hope you will find your stay with us an enjoyable one."
Mesahri and Bitara hit the wooden top deck of the Zuflucht with a pair of thumps, each utterly exhausted from the flight to and from shore. Even as they helped each other back into the ship, striving to rescue their kin before the departure, each of them knew that they would be unable to flee the ship before Fallensteller and the servants returned. They tried not to think about it- there was far too much on the line at the moment to consider the tactfulness of their exit. They would fly in a hail of gunfire if needed to escape the cult of Raum. But now, right now, Lunaire needed them. After they descended the stairs into the dimly-lit passages below, however, they were tragically confronted with the same problem which delayed their earlier intervention: the Zuflucht was a massive ship, and Lunaire could have been anywhere. It took several minutes longer for either of them to even consider the hospital as a possible destination for the girl, and when it occurred to them, it almost seemed too obvious.
Hastily proceeding to the glass-inlaid double doors, they crashed into the room, only for Mesahri to freeze in place and grab Bitara by the arm, stopping her from venturing any further. The air itself was terribly cold and uninviting, and there was an eerie shade, like a shimmering inversion of light and shadow, radiating from the center of the room. Before Bitara could even ask the question, Mesahri confirmed it: "[We're too late,]" she simply said.
"[What the hell is this..?]" Bitara asked, straining against Mesahri until the latter let go of her. She stepped forward, growing more and more fearful, until she realized there was a presence in the room which blended in with the incomprehensible shadows. Two figures, a human looming at the far end of the room, and a crouching, childlike figure at the center of the distortion, her hand outstretched and trembling over the metal pan. "Lunaire!" Bitara called out.
There was no response from the girl. Mesahri reluctantly approached as well, a deep remorse creeping into her as she did. This was a scene weaved from her own nightmares. This couldn't be real, and yet, the vision continued and there was no escaping the crushing guilt which awaited her. "[Lunaire... why didn't you listen to us?]" she said gently. The two older bats crouched down beside her, one on either side, and looked into her entranced face. Her muzzle was twisted into a strange, delighted smile, but her eyes seemed to stare a thousand yards past the floor and opposite wall. The cut on her hand was neatly stitched and bandaged.
"It's the most incredible thing," Dr. Keseberg said. "She's been sitting like that for over fifteen minutes. She didn't even blink when I put the stitches in... whatever's going on in that head of hers, I'll bet it's absolutely wonderful. These manifestations appeared when the bleeding began, and have yet to disappear."
Mesahri scowled at him. "You pig. Sell your own soul if you want, but how could you do this to a child?"
Keseberg shrugged his hunched shoulders. "Soon, Raum will return and only the worthy will live on to serve Him. I thought, as another servant, you of all people would know that" he explained with an air of superiority. "She came to me. She made the cut. She chose this path; you ought to let her shine."
"[What is he saying?]" Bitara asked, looking panicked as she searched for meaning.
Mesahri felt the urge to cry, but stifled it for the moment. "[He says she made the cut herself. That... that this is what she wants.]"
"[Crock of shit!]" Bitara cried. "[She wouldn't just...]"
"[She did,]" Mesahri replied. "[This chill in the air... the shadows... this is powerful. She didn't just give a little, like I did. She gave a lot... A lot, Bitara.]"
Bitara looked deep into Lunaire's eyes, searching for meaning, before throwing her arms around the girl and wailing. "[No, no, no...! Lunaire, how could you? How could you?]"
"How long were you just going to sit here and stare at her?" Mesahri spat at Keseberg.
Keseberg turned away. "Until the manifestations stopped. I don't wish to interfere with the Lord's work."
Infuriated, Mesahri turned to Bitara. "[Let's get her into a bed. We don't know what this means, yet. Maybe we can make another spirit ring and help her, like it helped me.]" She then addressed Keseberg before moving forward. "You stay out of this."
Utterly distraught, Bitara would take any solution, no matter how far-fetched, and hold onto it madly. With motherly instinct she cradled Lunaire and carried her to a hospital cot before laying her down to rest a while. Mesahri helped where she could, but there was no separating the other two. Instead, she watched their surroundings, and found that the icy chill and the creeping darkness began to recede once Lunaire was removed from her seated position. Strangely, there was a tuft of fur on the floor beneath where she had been sitting, and on closer inspection, Mesahri found that it must have fallen out in clumps. Lunaire began to relax, steadily closing her eyes as she drifted into a wonderfully peaceful sleep.
Bitara sat herself down on the next cot over and watched over her. "[Go tell the others. I want to be here when she wakes up,] Bitara instructed Mesahri. "[I need to know that she'll be okay.]"
"[What if she isn't safe to bring home?]" Mesahri asked, knowing how badly Bitara would loathe the question. "[If we're still here tonight, we're all going to wind up as servants to Raum.]"
"[I'm not leaving her,]" Bitara said, "[no matter what.]"
Eventually, the night wound down for Krantz, and he retired to his quarters with Kyndreth while leaving one of the other officers in command for the night. Von Strauss had already departed for her quarters, so it had to be one of the lower ranking officers on the bridge. Once they arrived, things went the same as they had the night before. Kyndreth assumed her position at the foot of his bed, while Krantz changed and crawled in it.
Tonight, he was far too tired (and too focused on the coming days) to remember to mark his forehead with a cross. Within a few minutes, he had drifted off to sleep.
As the group made their way back to their crafts Therasmus was eerily silent, once more trying to focus on those flashes and memories of timelines past and future. There was an undeniably strong energy in this area, the forces that had drawn him here were permeating through his otherworldly form. It was not power he could take for himself, but perhaps simply being here would enlighten him further, perhaps it would give him the slightest scrap of knowledge to aid him in finding out more about himself. His head was held low as he pondered, questioning each and every event that lead him here in a methodical yet chaotic system of questions and answers aimed at himself. Had he gotten closer to his goal or even further? Gods were circling around the fleet, and the battle the fleet was preparing for would not be the last, he was certain of that. It was a relationship he was growing to despise, for the gods and their insurmountable egos and self-assured grandeur is what placed him in this mess in the first place, he would have been much better off if they had all stayed dead. Such wishful thinking, with those beings far too powerful to kill in normal capacity they would always linger in some form...
In time they arrived back in the conference room, Therasmus' thoughts clearing slightly as he put his hands behind his back and stood with a straight posture. He looked between Yarah and Raya, his mouth twitching slightly in the ever-bothersome battle with figuring out human expression. The demon had compromised much to go along with this fleet, and after the exhausting waste of time that the punishment had been his patience was thinning. Now he had to be ready in case the captain found some way to mess this up somehow. It was within the possibility that he would accidentally trap Therasmus to his will, but he was all the more thankful that he wasn't privy to giving up his true name to these interlopers. The timelines in which he did hardly ever ended well.
"I do hope the goddess' teachings stick this time." he comments, looking to Jager. "Your neural plasticity seems lacking, captain. It would seem so, yes. Or was it some other factor? Hm. Yet since it hasn't even been a day from her last lesson I am certain you'll have the hang of it. Potentially."
"Please to meet the two of you." Vunor replied with a small head bow to both men.
["Ask if they have ale or mead on board!"] one of the younger warriors said out loud.
["Why? So you can get piss drunk and barely be able to stand on the morrow?"] another joked.
Vunor paid no mind to their banter as he introduced the warriors to Fontaine. "These are the warriors I spoke of, led by the Warchief Sahale. They will fight for honor and glory on the battlefield, even if it means their death. Such is our way." Vunor explained.
Sahale took a step forward and sized up the humans before speaking in broken Gren. "Victor or death. Blood [azh] honor." he spoke in a deep voice. He turned to his warriors behind him and lifted his spear and shield in the air, reciting the same phrase but in his native tongue. The other warriors joined in for a moment, hyped up from this.
"You wouldn't perchance have any ale on board, would you?" Vunor asked Fontaine. "We might need it to keep them from getting too rowdy."
The skiff pulled up to the launch, packed to the brim with Raum's devotees. Only Lieutenant Kirsch remained uninitiated, and he sat rather uncomfortably at the Captain's side, waiting for a chance to hide his new radio before anything happened which would reveal his disloyalty. Pawlitzki stepped out of the boat first, outstretching a hand to Fallensteller, who took it and rose gracefully to her feet, as if the multiple insults and embarrassments which had peppered the day had simply washed off of her along the way. She turned, giving a valiant grin to her followers.
"Sons and daughters of Teutonia, servants of the Lord," she announced, "tomorrow we embark upon the next stage of our journey- both in literal and spiritual terms. The island of Nadesh is one filled with heretics, enemies not just to Mannfred, but to us, as well. Their blood spilled is as good as any, and the more we sacrifice, the more rapid, the more glorious His return will be."
To Kirsch, this sudden removal of all pretense felt as welcome as a spider in his bed. If the Captain was this comfortable speaking about her evil ways in front of him, it probably meant that she was testing his loyalty. Does she know I met with the Vice Admiral? Oh gods, what if she knows about the radio?
"For that reason," Fallensteller continued, "our true mission, before we ever step foot on that island nation, is to ensure that every single member of this ship who is not a pledged servant of the Master either joins us, or dies. Starting with you, Mr. Kirsch."
"W-what!?" the helmsman responded. He looked around, fearfully, and found himself surrounded by the pale-faced servants, their reddened eyes, framed by raven-black hair, glowering at him from seemingly every direction. Now the ocean itself, inky black in the twilight looked like his greatest enemy of all, even as it was his only line of escape, away from the towering ship and toward the distant island he left behind.
"What is your choice, Lieutenant?" Fallensteller inquired. "Would Raum even want a faithless servant like you? That radio in your pocket is nothing but a dagger, and you were itching to plant it in my back, I know. But you cannot deceive me, Mr. Kirsch. Deception is the very first art I mastered, haw, haw, haw. So..." she said, reaching into her coat and drawing out what appeared to be a handful of knives, but in truth was merely her digits, cruelly twisted into long obsidian knives.
Kirsch jolted backwards, to the edge of the skiff, so that it rocked in the pitch void below him. "What the fuck have you become!?" he screamed. "You're a devil!"
"Not yet," she hissed teasingly, "but soon..."
The other servants rose like zombies, drawing out their own knives, whispering at him to make a choice: service or death. He turned, wildly, and leaped for the water, only to be caught by his legs so that he dangled over the edge, head down in the black fluid. One puncture after another tore into his back, and his screams were swallowed by the ocean and carried away in a mass of invisible bubbles. The ink poured into his lungs with each gagging breath his body tried to muster, and the pain was mind-numbing. Soon, there was nothing left of him, as his lifeless corpse was dragged back into the boat. All was still and silent, peaceful at last. And then, a jolt like lightning:
Kirsch would serve again.
---
Lieutenant Kirsch awoke screaming in the bottom of the skiff, seated on the floor with his back to the inner wall. He was near the rear of the boat, and gradually, and frustratingly, he remembered that he had been quite tired after the public punishment was concluded and chose to sit as far from the Captain as possible, pretending to nap in order to avoid questions. Unfortunately, "pretending to nap" became "actually napping" once the rhythmic rising and falling of the skiff set his mind at peace, and he had not taken the time to form a blood cross on his head.
A young rifleman stooped down to check on him. "Sir, are you alright? We were worried this might happen..."
"Yes, I'm fine," Kirsch replied, still very shaken from the vivid nightmare. He felt his pocket for the radio, and had a mild panic attack when it wasn't there.
"Also, sir, you dropped this," the same rifleman said, handing him the brick-sized radio. "What is it, anyway?"
Kirsch blinked, taking the radio back and shoving it in his pocket. "It's a navigational tool," he replied quickly. "Are we almost there?"
"Aye, sir, just pulling in now. The engine was running a tad bit hot on the way out so we had to switch to the oars for a bit. The skiff's not used to these kinds of loads, you know."
---
Fallensteller was somewhat confused by Kirsch's flustered demeanor when he arrived at the ship, but was more preoccupied with tracking down Lunaire and making sure that nothing was wrong. She fully intended to induct him into the cult at the first proper opportunity, but it had been quite a long day and there would be plenty of opportunity to purify her staff further en route to Nadesh. With Kirsch having turned in for the night, Fallensteller called for curfew and made sure that only the servants would be out for the rest of the night, before finally inquiring and receiving the whereabouts of her favorite two batfolk.
When she entered the hospital, she found Keseberg, Bitara and Mesahri standing by in fervent study and breathless vigil, silently watching in fascination and horror as a slow metamorphosis occurred before their eyes. They all turned to face Fallensteller with different reactions. Keseberg grinned madly, while Bitara could barely contain her rage and Mesahri had a look of quiet defiance. "Captain, come in!" Keseberg called out. "We have a new servant!"
"Do we now?" Fallensteller replied, uneasily.
Mesahri spoke up, her voice wavering. "Captain, you poisoned her mind. She didn't need this!"
Fallensteller shook her head. "Raum is returning, Mesahri. If what I hear is true, then she's the most prepared of all of you, good show... Let's see her then, show me-"
"She gave damned near all of herself!" Mesahri suddenly shouted. "She's barely alive!"
The Captain ignored her as she approached, responding to the frantic beckoning by Keseberg. As they stepped out of the way, the change was immediately clear: Lunaire had been rolled onto her stomach so that her tail, once a stubby little thing which was well-hidden below the edge of her uniform, had become long and hairless, flattened at the end into a spaded tip. As the minutes ticked by, it continued to grow even as Fallensteller spoke with the trio around Lunaire's cot.
"[Tell her she can't go home like this!]" Bitara screeched. "[The girl is part-demon!]"
"How is she ever supposed to go home, Captain?" Mesahri demanded. "She'll be marked as a freak for the rest of her life!"
Fallensteller seemed unmoved. "She's quite a beautiful creature, as far as I'm concerned. "But going home? My dear Mesahri, there is no 'going home,' at least not for you. I intend to sail this ship directly through the Lost Sea to the other side, and back home to my homeland of Teutonia to continue spreading the word. You and your kin are interesting novelties, but there is no way in hell that we'd steer fifteen-hundred souls back through the heart of this ocean just so you can go back to your cave."
"Then we're leaving right now!" Mesahri boomed, bowing up on the Captain.
Fallensteller slapped her so hard that she briefly lost her senses. Bitara reared back and prepared to lunge at the Captain, but Fallensteller already had her hand on her personal sidearm and had taken a step back. "Try to leave this ship and I will have all of you sacrificed in the name of the Lord," she warned. "All of you except Lunaire... do I make myself clear? Keseberg, call for Pawlitzky. Tell him we're taking the remaining bats into the brig for induction. We'll release them after we depart for Nadesh. Schnell!"
"No!" Mesahri cried out.
"And this time, put Mesahri's hands through the bars!" Fallensteller roared.
Keseberg nodded. "Right away, Captain!"
"[What just happened?]" Bitara demanded, fearfully. "[What happened!?]"
Mesahri's stunned silence was all the answer she needed.
---
That night, the remaining bats were inducted into the cult. Mesahri and Bitara were forced to undergo the loyalty test, where they affirmed and reaffirmed their faith in Raum. Fallensteller retired to her quarters to sleep, eagerly awaiting her new protege's awakening in the morning, and quietly wondering about Neustadt's condition. By coincidence, Neustadt, having spent the entire night in agonizing isolation, realized that she couldn't spend the rest of her existence running from her previous choices. Sooner or later, she would need to meet her new Master, or at least one who could speak on His behalf. Both went to bed without the blood cross.
All the while, Lunaire slept peacefully in the hospital.
"Dominik... can you hear me?"
Váradi's eye widened in shock. Both because he actually heard a voice that wasn't his own in his quarters, coming from the mirror itself, and because it said his real name. How? He was supposed to be talking to Fallensteller, unless Raum or his Messenger had decided to make an appearance. "Yes, I can hear you...How do you know my real name?" he responded, curious as to how they acquired this information.
As he waited for a response, his reflection seemed to begin to change. Morphing, blending, forming something new. He watched, his one good eye studying the movements of the colors as they shifted about. The reflection still moved with him, as he shifted his stance, but the reflection itself was no longer his own.
She gasped when she heard the reply. Fallensteller was almost certain that the ritual was too simple to work. "...The Lord provides, my friend. He saw fit to bring us together, did He not?" She tried to focus on the image rippling before her, but as soon as she did, it seemed to dissolve and she nearly lost the ritual entirely. Only when she tried to look through the glass and the the illusion did she get a grasp on the image lurking beyond. She could see him, vaguely, looking back at her, and becoming more clear by the moment.
"Look beyond the reflection," she helped guide him. "Imagine it as more like a window than a mirror."
The image continued to shift in flux, and Fallensteller realized the subtle complexity of the art: neither one could view the other without both partners being in sync with each other; they each had to see beyond the glass to focus on each other simultaneously.
All at once, they each came into perfect focus of the other, but not as if they had bypassed their reflections, but rather as if they had traded places entirely. Sabine's reflection was now Dominik, and vice versa, and the voices we're entirely disembodied. "...So, this is what it's come to?" she asked him. "Ungria's faith is so ill-placed in Krantz and his master, Mannfred, that you - heir to the throne! - seek the help of a witch to guide you to a worthwhile destiny.
"I have good news for you, Dominik. I am far more than a witch, and I can indeed help you save your empire."
"That seems like a rather difficult task at the moment. Most of the fleet wants your head, and anyone else inclined to follow Raum." he responded, setting the candlestick down on the dresser close to the mirror as he continued to gaze 'through' it. He noticed her reflection seemed to mimic his own. Maybe he could see her appearance and hear her, but her movements were his own as if she were him. An odd form of communication, really.
"...Its an odd feeling, being called by my real name. Especially by someone that isn't a member of my family or another of the upper class Ungrians...Can't say I'm very fond of it." he commented.
As night began to settle, most of those in the barracks settled to go to sleep. The beastfolk vagrants that accompanied Nita and Kitta onto the ship already had tucked themselves in, and some of them had even begun to snore. Nita on the other hand sat on her bed cross-legged with her back to the wall behind her. She straightened herself, closed her eyes and prepared for meditation to train her mind, as Vunor had trained her to do. It was difficult to get herself to do so as she felt a bit nervous since the next morning they would be departing for unknown shores. Where she had lived and learned here entire life would be all behind her and the thought scared her for a moment.
Nonetheless, she managed to find her inner peace and drifted into her usual mind's place of peace: a field of vivid green with a soft wind blowing. She opened her eyes and found herself sitting in the knee high grass that swayed gently. She knew she was dreaming, and this made it easy for her to continue practicing her skills for the night.
"There's plenty of drink on board. I advise not to overindulge so soon before a battle." Karam answered Vunor's inquiry with a very respectful tone. "Warrior senses must be kept sharp."
While they were talking the platform had been making it's descend. Fontaine stepped on board and turned back towards Vunor "Don't worry if you lose balance for a second. The first time on this things is the same for everyone."
The groups were taken up to the ship with in a matter of minutes straight to the hangar. Once there the scene of working men was in full display. Company men were going in different directions, some followed by the beastmen they picked up earlier. Despite its reputation and dealing, the Black river company prides itself of the high level of professionalism of its workforce. And the men on board the Eye of Horus were no exception. As per Fontaine's orders, they had began to interview the newcomers, determining where they would be the most useful and made the transition into their new duties as smooth as possible. Whatever negative comments and prejudices regarding race presented themselves, they were quickly met with a hefty fine or in some cases, a smack by an enforcer to the back of the head. They were getting paid to work, not offer insight.
Fontaine waved one of his men over to give instructions for a delivery to be made to both the Eisenstrasse and the Blixtväg. The one meant for Varadi to be treated with as much care for concealment as possible. Once done he turned back to his guests.
"Welcome aboard the Eye of Horus, gentlemen!"
"I'm well aware of their intentions," Fallensteller replied. "The Admiral keeps them in line for two reasons. The first is this: he arrogantly believes that I am a known quantity, and that I cannot surprise him. Norrys' death today is proof that my methods far exceed his expectations. I employed two magical artifacts to see it through today, and if I have done it once you can trust that I will do it again, and continue to grow more sophisticated as time goes on. The second is: I have spoken to the Messenger again, seen the Lord Raum in His repose, and walked about His Cathedral in the Abyss. I have died and returned to this world, banished from Hell itself. And in this journey I have learned many of the Admiral's most important secrets. When Dobbs thought he would corner me at the assembly yesterday, I made it known to the Admiral that if he should try to end me I would end all faith and trust in his leadership upon my exit."
"As for your true name," Fallensteller added, "you should feel no shame. When you return to Ungria, its savior and the leader you are destined to be, then you will etch the legacy you desire into the annals of history and wipe away the mediocrity which preceded it."
Váradi raised an eyebrow. She was responsible for Norrys' death? He then realized that it must have happened when that bat dried to defend him. After all, it was wearing her crew's colors. The next thought that popped into his head was regarding her 'death'. That explained how pale she was the day before. She finally went and slit her throat with that cursed blade from Campo Diablo.
"That explains several things. As for the Admiral, let me guess...he actually is the demon we've thought he is." he responded. Probably a greater demon, in which case it'd be difficult to end him. "...how am I supposed to help in all of this? At the moment, I have both Krantz and Von Strauss looming over me. And that damn demon that Krantz got from Shalo. Apparently he and the demon are married. If they smell that I'm working with you, they likely won't hesitate to stick me in the brig till this is all over."
Fallensteller gave a sinister chuckle. "You don't see the obvious solution? The crew of the Eisenstrasse are loyal to the Empire, no? You are the Empire. This guise you've adopted, this 'Váradi' character is a yoke you've placed on your own neck, allowing Krantz and von Strauss to control you, to threaten you... if you simply shrug that burden, then the Eisenstrasse would fall into your grasp effortlessly. Your commanders would become your subordinates, or else they would flee to Mannfred or Dobbs, the way Ackermann did when he failed to depose me. If you align with Raum, then the Empire aligns with Raum; how could your soldiers refuse?
"Yes, the Admiral is a demon. Perhaps he is the strongest demon- it is certainly possible. But he fears his past: I have seen through the eyes of another, a memory of the ancient past. The Admiral, Calcifer, as he was truly known, was an original ally of Raum and had a major hand in causing the great war which destroyed half the world. Somewhere along the line, Calcifer turned on Raum. Now that the Master is returning, Calcifer lives in fear of the sort of vengeance Raum will take upon him. Perhaps he seeks to revive Farryn and empower Shalo because he is seeking allies for the re-ignition of the war. If that's the case, then the premonition you all had at Blackstone was a vision not of Raum's victory, but of Calcifer's folly.
"There will come a day when this fleet will either need to stand with Calcifer, or stand with Raum. The victors will inherit the world. Always remember that the Admiral has lied, continuously, about every aspect of this mission from the very beginning. He intended to keep us ignorant and weak until the very end. How would a few thousand soldiers, even those armed with silver bullets and blades, face a God which destroyed continents? The answer is simple: the idea that we were to fight in the end was simply another lie. I have no doubt that the Admiral simply wished to slaughter us at the alter of some great ritual, to empower himself and his allies at our expense. He has lived for so long, the lives of such petty mortal creatures could not possibly trouble his conscience.
"By joining Raum, I have glimpsed the truth, and am learning more and more each day. I am growing stronger, more independent. But I cannot challenge Calcifer alone. I need allies who are equally powerful, enlightened and equipped. And if we can hold him off for long enough, our Lord will return and Calcifer will be crushed once and for all. Your role, then, is to take your rightful place as leader of the Eisenstrasse. Do it now while your aura is pure. Then, reach out to our Lord and offer Him a portion of your blood. Bring your crew into the fold as quietly as you can, and use this opportunity at Nadesh to collect artifacts which can aid you in your quest for power. Don't worry about the Nadeshi. The Messenger has informed me that they are not proper servants and will do more for our Master dead than alive.
And always remember: sacrifice is the best connection to the Lord."
As soon as Fallensteller had repeated the fateful words which had once guided her to her first victim, Officer Pletcher, there was an audible crack which forced her eyes to refocus on the glass; the ritual had concluded, and all that was left was her own reflection, slightly distorted by the imperfection in the pane: the small crack in her mirror had become much more severe, and at this rate, she would only be able to contact Dominik again one more time before the mirror would shatter entirely. Gott mit uns, she thought silently as she hoped her words had swayed him.
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