Continued....
Fallensteller
Dying, visiting the Abyss, and being resurrected all within several hours was a series of events which would exhaust essentially anyone. Death itself was an ordeal which pained the mind and body, but for a mortal soul to submerge itself within the Abyss for any amount of time was a different level of intensity altogether. Fallensteller was lucky on all accounts - she had friends in high places looking after her, it seemed. Regardless, her head ached terribly and her body still felt clumsy and unnatural around her. She may have had the benefit of not suffering too much from everything as others might, but the sensations were all uncomfortable and she already felt exhausted. She simply had the peace of mind of knowing that it could be worse, but so far was manageable.
Having cleaned herself up and gotten dressed, she realized that at this time there wasn't much more for her to do other than get some rest. She definitely felt like she needed it. However, without any blood to cross her head to stave off the nightmares, she realized that perhaps she wouldn't have any - she was a resurrected soul now, not a living person as she had been. Did the dead dream? The Messenger did say he could provide her with dreams that acted as messages, since they were the easiest and safest form of communication between the realms. Naturally or not, dreams would eventually come...
Fallensteller awoke slowly to a dark void. It wasn't as alarming as it may have been given her circumstances, but it was certainly a curious place to wake up to. There was solid ground beneath her feet and it felt like sand. Or ash, she discovered, once she grabbed some with her hand. It was a mixture of grey sand with a thin layer of ash above it, like a volcanic eruption had showered a beach. There was no source of light, which normally wouldn't have been an issue with her low-light vision, but she still saw nothing aside from the ground around her. This place didn't feel like the Abyss, but it did have that look.
Several feet away from her there was the slight creaking sound of metal that desperately needed oil, and a light came to life. It was a small flame flickering in a rusty lantern, held up by an emaciated corpse with bandages and rags covering its body. Their eyes and nose were wrapped behind yellow-aged cloth, but their mouth was visible. They looked almost like a mummy from the lands of the sultans far to the south of Ungria and Brunswick and across the channel.
"I am obligated to inform you of your mistake," the corpse rasped, holding the lantern up and slowly walking towards her. "Your soul has forsaken the safety of guidance. I came here to protect your soul's departure from your body, but I realized too late that it belongs in the hands of another. You have forsaken an eternal rest for false longevity."
The creature came a stop, holding the lantern up high and illuminating the area around both of them. "You will never find help among my kind, nor will your soul ever know peace. The Garden of Delights is closed to you forever, as is the Garden of Torment. You will be faced with an eternity of wandering the Abyss, or the eradication of your soul in time for your actions. We have vowed to keep your kind away, and so it shall continue."
After a moment of starting at her, the creature slowly turned its head to the lantern and blew out the candle within, plunging the area back into darkness. Her mind disassociated itself with this place and she drifted back off into a dreamless, uninterrupted sleep.
---
Yvess
For Yves, the night had also been uncharacteristically eventful. After bringing Margaretta back into the world, the events of the world did not stop and rest - a terrorist attack at the docks had gathered everyone's attention, and he realized he could not hide in his quarters all night. So with a heavy heart he left Margaretta alone to assist in the rescue efforts in the bay, and he did not return until some hours later.
Margaretta had taken well to Yves' cabin. She touched nothing except for a blank canvas, paint, and a few brushes she had neatly set beside her. It appeared she had started painting the moment he must have left, for the painting was almost finished... though there was already another finished painting on the floor, leaning up against the wall. This one was a simple landscape of the ocean during a sunset, but the mixture and assembly of the colors was phenomenal. It was impossible to tell the shimmering red sky from the shimmering red water in the middle, but at the same time the brilliant blending of the colors allowed the mind to easily distinguish the real sun to its reflection in the water. A painting of this magnitude, while small, would have taken at least an entire day of painting - if not a day or two to ensure it was perfect. She must have painted it in less than two hours.
"Forgive me, monsieur, but I simply could not resist using your canvas and paints. The lonely brushes called to me, as did the blank canvas," she said to him somewhat sheepishly, as if she were embarrassed.
The painting already on the easel and half-completed was of the Problem Child. She had never seen it from the outside, and it did not appear she had left the cabin at all - yet there the ship was on the canvas, showed to be going over a normal swell in a pristine ocean that was neither calm nor rough - simply the sea in all its glory. The color of the water was deep blue instead of emerald, which stirred an emotion of home sickness within Yves. The painting wasn't even half completed, yet still it moved him so.
One Yves had settled back into his quarters, Margaretta set her brush aside.
"Since you have been away, I have been honing my weak senses gradually as I painted. I feel like I have awoken from a dream and not yet shaken the sense of sleep and wonder about me, but I am trying. There are certainly some... powerful beings here," she said, pausing for a moment. "There is not just one god at the edge of my senses, but I sensed one appear not far away. On one of the other ships, I suspect. However, it wasn't simply the appearance of this god that shocked me so, but the soul they were with. A greater demon. It was the light in the cage I had seen, and before my very eyes it began to break away. It was like a star trying to explode. But once the god appeared, it began to calm itself down and the cage began to rebuild itself. It was... very strange."
Margaretta spoke on these matters with Yves for a short time before she expressed her need for sleep. Always the gentleman, Yves of course offered his small bed for her which she graciously took. She settled into it wearing only a thin gown which had been on beneath her dress, leaving Yves to sleep on the floor with a thick blanket and pillow. He had forgotten to cross his forehead, but he wouldn't realize until morning that his sleep was calm and peaceful despite that. His proximity not just to a god, but his patron god, protected and eased his mind.
Morning
February 13th, 1898
The rising sun gave way to a chilly morning, with hardly a cloud in the sky. A strong morning breeze had stirred itself up sometime around the moment the sun crested the horizon, and for those sailors on deck at this time, a coat or jacket would be essential to keeping warm.
The inferno which had began early last night was finally extinguished. A few hundred meters worth of wooden docks had been burned and charred, some of which having already collapsed into the bay. Scorch marks darkened the main concrete pier in which the fire had initially burned, and the front of the port authority building was scorched and tinged with soot. The wooden shutters had all burned off, and some of the glass had warped and melted, but the entire exterior of the building was brick and stone. It had suffered little damage compared to the area around it. Three warehouses, two open walled and one fully enclosed, had burned down. All of the goods within were also burned up in the fire, leaving behind charred lumps, piles of ash, and indecipherable debris. A few hundred tons of wheat, barley, rye, and rice had gone up in the blaze. Other goods such as rope, cotton bales, candles, and numerous other craft goods were destroyed. Piles of brick were left behind, though debates were still ongoing if the brick was still safe to use. It had been scorched by the flames but otherwise appeared fine.
Eighteen bodies had been recovered once the fire was extinguished, and those were the remains which were moderately identifiable. The bodies of the Heran female and the marines near her were never recovered. They had been at the center of the inferno, and likely their remains had been washed aside from the dozens of water hoses being used on the area. It was difficult to tell over half the bodies from human and Cattan, so rosters were still being checked in regards to who was still missing. As always with these kinds of situations, the constant recounts typically yielded different results as marines and sailors were not where they were supposed to be. Some who were considered missing or even dead were later found sleeping on the side of the street after a long night, or others having already returned to their ships despite being thought to have been at the docks. The Cattan didn't have such records for some of their guardsmen and were mostly relying on what their people had seen. As for civilian casualties, it was impossible to say, but they were thought to be low thanks to the early containment.
Clean up was ongoing as soon as there was enough light. Twelve small vessels had been burned and sank during the blaze, while another dozen more had been cut free and were floating around the bay without pilots. Efforts were already underway to round these ships back up and dock them elsewhere. All of the wounded humans at the triage center had been ferried off to their respective ships as needed, with the most serious cases being sent to the Revenant for emergency surgery. Calls from the medicine stores of the Problem Child had ensured the night remained busy for the medical personnel for the fleet. There were forty-seven wounded from the initial blaze and subsequent containment efforts, with fourteen in critical condition with serious burns. Two had already passed away from their wounds - both marines from the Eissenstrasse.
It was currently 7:15am, and a meeting had been called to occur at the consulate at 11:00am. It was already known that their next destination was Nadesh, but the contents of the message to the fleet indicated it was a war briefing. All captains and senior staff were to be in attendance for the briefing.
A private telegram from the Revenant had been sent to the Blitzwave and Mariner's Boon notifying both captains of a shooting incident which was pending investigation. The two subjects of investigation were Torsson and Norrys, along with their subordinates, in a shooting concerning civilians. The matter was to be discussed at the meeting in addition to the war briefing concerning Nadesh.
High Shaman Vunor had called for a meeting of his fellow shaman's early that morning to occur before the meeting with the human captains concerning the island of Nadesh, along with matters concerning the cults and the spiritual health of the citizenry and surrounding natural environment.
Therasmus had been directed to a small cabin on the Revenant, with two sailors standing watch outside his quarters to assist him with any matters he needed help with. He was requested not to travel the ship freely. However, word reached him that he was also requested to join the war briefing.
Niakoma, Blitzwave
Jager awoke to Yarah-kei poking him with her finger. He had fallen asleep in his office chair, his feet kicked up on the desk and his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn't the most comfortable way to sleep, and his feet were a little numb he realized as he gradually awoke. It would have been preferable to sleep in his own bed, but he had given it to Yarah-kei - who despite being utterly bound to him, had made it clear she would kill him if he laid with her whenever she was freed.
"I'm hungry. You people have food around here, right?" She asked, standing by his desk naked. "I forgot how hungry I get after a summoning. That dinner last night was hardly a snack. I was going to go wander the ship myself, but I figured you would throw a fit about that."
Considering she wasn't wearing any clothes, that was a safe assumption.
"Oh, and some soldier came to the door with a message," she grinned, and Jager realized he must have slept through it and while Yarah had answered the door. She pointed at a piece of paper on his desk. "There is a meeting at the capital with a bunch of fancy captains. I get to go, right? Oh, and one of your soldiers is being investigated for war crimes or something, whatever the hell that is. Is that important? I've never heard of such a thing."
Cattapoli, Consulate
Security remained high at the consulate as an entire platoon of marines from the Revenant had been on guard the entire night, and continued to be so for the morning. A shore party of sailors had arrived shortly after sunrise with equipment and folding chairs for the mission briefing that was to occur before noon. The main courtyard of the consulate was being set up with a few dozen chairs, along with a couple small wooden tables for the captains and their direct seniors to sit at so that notes could be taken if needed. A few easels were set up to display maps and relevant information, though they currently stood empty.
Admiral Mannfred, looking fine after his injuries last night, had arrived at the consulate with his delegation long before the meeting was set to begin. He was accompanied by Captain Elisa Murdoch and his senior lieutenants Amsel, Devalli, and Fredricks as well as marine Captain Hohenzoller. A few ensigns and underofficers were part of the detachment, as was Therasmus. The group took breakfast at the consulate, with Fawnstar and some dignitaries joining.
As the time for the meeting neared, marines from the Revenant would be waiting to direct captains and their groups to the courtyard. Small placards with their ship names were set on the tables, with several chairs behind the table for the juniors to be seated at while the senior staff got the table. It was clear that this was an important meeting.
The demon stationed in the cabin below deck proved to be an exceptionally good guest, even if the sailors were likely primarily stationed to guard him rather than answer his questions. Fortunately for them he did not have many questions of the existential or confusing variety, knowing full well that the fodder of the ship wouldn't be able to scratch that itch. That did not mean that he sat idly in that cabin, however. Therasmus' one and only request from them was to bring him as many pieces of reading material and literature they could find aboard the vessel, and from there he rapidly would scan each tidbit of information that was sent his way. From charts and maps to equipment manuals and military pamphlets, he was sure that they provided the things he would need to get up to speed on this realm more efficiently than any simple conversation could. At the tail end of the night he was sitting in the center of the room, a meditative state surrounded by the haphazard library he was making of his temporary quarters. Through it all, the sailors were able to see his focus shift from keeping up his disguise to studying, the hallucination twisting and stuttering in and out of their minds like rapid, static-ridden flashes.
Come morning he was seated where he was meant to be, fingers tapping to a calculated rhythm along the table's cloth surface as he sat quietly, keeping to himself. He was quite excited to meet all of the captains of the fleet proper, more excited to see how they went about their planning. This sit-in would provide him with much needed information on what their next collective move would be, yet even still the back of his mind was prying at the timelines. Snags and divergence were annoyances that he expected all too well, so his obsessive observations of their current 'course' was not unfounded, compulsive as they may be.
Jäger yawned and pulled his hands through his face. "Yes, you will be joining." He leaned in towards the desk and grabbed the message from his woldiers. Sounds like it will be a busy day.
He looked up at Yarah. "Take a shower and get dressed. We'll eat after that." As Yarah obeyed his commands Jäger got up and peeked out the door. A marine did a quick salute. "Good morning, sir."
Jäger returned the favor. "Good morning corporal. I need you to get a few messages out. Senior staff as well as Sergeant Torsson are to report to the conference room in thirty minutes. Tell the kitchen to bring up as much food as they can. Also, tell the Niakomans that I would like to meet with their administration later."
The soldier nodded and departed. Jäger closed the door and went into the bathroom to wash his face and comb through his hair. Once Yarah was done showering both of them got dressed. Jäger wore his military uniform while Yarah wore the blue summerdress and a pair of nice shoes with short heels.
After checking his holster and scabbard Jäger and Yarah departed for the conference room. All officers and senior staff greeted Jäger with a quick salute before seating themselves. While the breakfast, which could only be described as fit for a king, was served Jäger took the time to ask how the night had been before delving into the most pressing issue.
After briefing Jäger on the situation Torsson sighed and leaned back in his chair with his head hanging low. It was obvious that the incident had taken a toll on him which wasn't surprising really. Even the damn Pavlovians knew better than to hide behind civilians.
Jäger remained silent for a moment before delegating his orders. Torsson, Kaspersen and everyone else whom had fired their weapons at the apartment would accompany the Gothian delegation as would the wounded soldiers. The damaged recon vehicle would also be brought along as well as the rifles and machineguns used during the incident.
While Jäger sought to avoid a court martial conducted by a foreign state this far from home he would not risk lying to Mannfred or the Cattan council.
After the breakfast the delegation, including two squads of soldiers for self-defense, loaded up onboard the Raven. The Gothian delegation would travel in their own convoy of vehicles consisting lf two jeeps, three recon vehicles and one truck.
Once everyone was onboard the Raven departed from the Blixtvåg.
Kahleen, followed by Dahl, walked up to Jäger as he overlooked the sea.
"What do you think will happen to them?" Asked Kahleen, referring to Torsson and the others.
Jäger scratched his chin.
"Hopefully they will understand that the circumstances were difficult. If they insist on punishing them I will use all my power to assume responsibility for that punishment."
Kahleen nodded. "And if that doesn't work?"
"I have some other options in mind," said Jäger as he stared at an unmanned fishing boat passing by.
Eventually the Raven arrived. Four marines were left at the empty docks to oversee security while the convoy formed up. Slowly the line of vehicles began to move and eventually found their way to the consulate after asking a guardsman for directions.
Having not seen the consulate the night before the Gothians were impressed. Jäger, sitting next to Yarah inside the lead vehicle, leaned in and whispered. "I assume Shalo's palace was bigger than this?" Yarah nodded.
The convoy came to a halt and the delegation was quick to assemble. Forming up around the Gothian vehicles were the rest of the armed Gothian marines. Jäger cared not if they scared the locals with their presence, as long as it kept the terrorists away.
Once everyone was ready Jäger, followed his large delegation of officers, senior staff, soldiers and wounded soldiers, approached one of the Revenant marines standing guard.
"Captain Wilhelm Jäger of the Blitzwave. Delegation includes senior officers, senior staff and soldiers involved in last night's shooting."
As Andria woke up, she found herself tied to a chair with her mouth gagged by a cloth strip. Her eyes fell on Tobey who, flanked by Bennett, was standing in front of her in the cold cell.
The walls were all made of metal and so was the door. There were no windows and only a single lamp hanging above her.
She tried to breath in a calm matter, but Tobey's attire wasn't the slightest reassuring. Tobey wore a white tunic shirt with the arms rolled up, as well a greenish butcher apron.
He walked up to her and looked down, "The time for theories are passed." he said to her, but it seemed more like he was talking to himself.
He began to slowly walk around her, but Andria was to scared to follow Tobey so she focused on Bennett instead. His expression did not sooth her either.
"It's time for trials." Tobey said behind her back and Andria felt him grab her by her head and tilt it backwards.
She tried to scream, but there came no sound. Her neck felt warm, but her face began feeling cold. She tried to breath in a panicked frenzy, but it only felt like she was drowning.
She twitched as she tilted her head forward. Tobey had now circled back in front of her and was cleaning what looked like a knife made out of dark glass.
She could see Tobey taking off his apron and handing it and the knife to Bennett before she fell unconscious.
"We'll dispose of her in the morning when you wake me." Tobey instructed as he walked to one of the corners of the room and moved a chair and a mirror in front of Andria's blood gushing corpse. Bennett remained quiet and made his exit.
Tobey sat down on the chair and took out a small quill, which he dipped in the blood that was flowing out of Andrias neck. With a steady hand, he began drawing patterns on his face that mimicked the scarification of the sorcerer. As he drew the lines, small cracks appeared in the mirror, following the path of his quill.
After he was finished with his face he then used more blood to draw the lines and patterns on his hands and forearms. He said nothing during this whole procedure.
With his bloodpainting done, Tobey moved to the small cot of the cell, and laid down to sleep. He wore Ryza's tear fastened in the small chain around his neck and clutched the jewel with one of his hands.
Slowly, but surely, sleep found him.
Vunor had been busy throughout the evening all the way to the morning. Sleep eluded him to this point, unlike with Nita. She slept on a large couch in one of the many rooms on the Consulate, wrapped in a blanket and snoring loudly. The old bull sighed as he checked up on her. Safe. Bless you Lady Oraya... he though in his head. As time passed, the morning began to creep over the horizon as he sat in a small room, legs crossed. The meeting with the others of his ilk had gone well, and Vunor was eager to bring the good news over towards the great meeting. He silently bowed his head to the floor and muttered a small prayer before getting up and exiting the room. He stretched for a moment, aching in his back. The events from earlier indeed took a toll on his old body, but his work was not done. If he had to guess, his work would continue until he gave out and his soul joined the ancestors in rest. The nasty gash on his arm had been bandaged and salved with herbal ointments, but still stung sharply from time to time. He then made his way to the breakfast, where Mannered and Fawnstar had earlier arrived and made themselves comfortable, and took out his pipe to smoke.
"Consul Fawnstar, I trust that you slept well?"
---
The past few days felt like a blur to him. So much had happened in so little time that it all seemed to meld together. Blackstone. Cattapoli. Ackermann. Damn that fool, doing something that stupid. It was a right proper mess this whole fiasco. And now this new information he had revealed... very troubling indeed. Dobbs did not sleep well that night, having dreamt of losing his arm again his whole body was wracked with pain as he awoke. The pain subsided after a few moments, leaving him dazed and confused in his own quarters.
He briskly walked over to his desk, half nude, and pulled out a glass as well as a small bottle of brandy. He poured a little bit of the delicate substance into the cup before downing the liquor and letting out a deep sigh. After all this, his mind felt clear once more. He was... on point. It's good to be back. he thought to himself as he looked in the mirror.
After dressing and re-attaching his mechanicsl arm, he made his way to the bridge, a small smile on his lips. "Morning chaps, how do we all fare this morning?"
Most of the crew in the bridge looked at each other oddly. Most replied with comments on good morale and thoughts though with one exception. "You seem more cheery than usual sir." spoke the helmsman, Mr. Jones. "Anything happen?"
"Nothing. I just feel... better? I suppose." the Vice admiral replied. "Nothing to concern yourselves over. Do inform Commander Wollisfend that he is to join me for breakfast in the Consulate and for a meeting as well. Make it quick. I will depart shortly, but not before attending to some matters." He then quickly saluted his men, who returned the favor, and left to the part of the ship that had kept his attention the entire night.
---
"How is he?" Dobbs asked. "Does he fare any better than last night?"
Lonstray could only shrug indifferently as the two observed their guest from a viewport on a secure door. "He hasn't spoken, nor eaten, since he arrived here. So I'd say he's been the same."
"That doesn't bloody help me, Lonstray. I mean, how is his condition?"
"Well... from an educated guess, I'd say psychological trauma similar and closest to post-war shell shock. But I can't be for certain. Not without testing-"
"I want to help him, not lobotimize the poor sod." Dobbs snapped back. "Help him. In whatever way you can. Just without your damn gadgets."
Dobbs took out a pocket watch and observed the time. "I must depart. I am expected elsewhere. If I hear you've touched him with even a damn stick, you'll have hell to pay for it. Mark my words." he spoke curtly at the scientist before swiftly exiting. Leaving Lonstray alone at the door. He seemed to have gotten the message and straightened himself before slowly opening the door and entering. The room was relatively small but has a small bed on one of its sides and a small table on the other. A plate of food had been left untouched and in pristine condition on it: beans and bacon with a side of tea. "Good morning Mr. Ackermann, how are you feeling? I trust that your accomadations are adequate?"
---
Dobbs and Wollisfend, along with a small accompaniment of marines, arrived at the Consulate at around 9:30 or so that morning. The food was still available, with a large cuisine to chose from, much to the delight of the subordinate officer. Wollisfend took a large serving on his plate while Dobbs was more modest with his intake, preferring to fill with tea and an apple. After finishing his lean breakfast, Dobbs took note of everything around him, seeing the admiral and what he assumed to be the Consul near him. It was all still a little jarring, seeing animals walk and talk like humans, but he was getting used to it. He also noticed a large bovine figure standing nearby, smoking from a pipe.
Dobbs made his way over to the admiral and saluted him. "Admiral Mannfred I trust this morning is good to you, sir."
A box within a box within a box called the Citadel. Very interesting! And its guarded by Inquisitors...they could be dealt with easily. I imagine they all simply bear similar weapons to the skeletons before and the beast folk. Medieval in design, melee in nature. Rifles and maschinengewehr would put them down post haste.
Still...it is likely that they will be fighting a rather large battle at the time. She'd have to find some way to get to the box within a box before it is damaged or taken by the Admiral. She couldn't let Krantz and Váradi know of her intentions, so it'd have to be someone else in the fleet. Hmm...maybe Tobey? He had a particular interest in supernatural artifacts, and would probably be more than happy to assist. And he seemed to be the secretive type, so he'd keep the endeavour to himself more than likely.
But first, she'd chat with Fallensteller. It was about time they met again for tea, and she planned to see if she'd be up for it this morning before the big meeting with the Admiral at the consulate.
She dressed a bit similar to how she had been the day before, formal pants with her jack boots along with a white buttoned up shirt. She chose to bring one of the semi-auto pistols instead of a revolver this time, slipping it into the holster she attached to her thigh. Tucked into her right boot was her new stilleto dagger, in a nice leather sheath one of the crew had crafted for her.After a quick brush of her hair, she slipped on her shades. She was ready for whatever the day would bring.
_ _ _ _ _
On the bridge, she found Krantz sipping his morning coffee. "Good morning, Captain. I hope that the night was less eventful after I retired." she stated, stepping over and greeting him with a tit of her head. Krantz nodded. "Two more soldiers passed during the night. Confirmed from the Revenant." stated Krantz, peering down through the observation window at the city below.
Von Strauss nodded. "So I heard...I'll make the proper funeral arrangements when we get their bodies back. To change the subject, I assume you'll be needing both me as well as Váradi when we depart for the consulate?"
Krantz sipped from the coffee before replying. "Yes. I need both of you. It'll be a large, and probably eventful meeting. And the both of you should be with me when we arrive." he stated.
"Alright. I do have a request, sir, for now. Since its a few hours before the meeting, do you mind if I venture to the Zuflucht? Its been a few days since we last checked in on them, and you did say that we should keep an eye on Fallensteller." asked Von Strauss, looking to him.
Krantz glanced over, pausing for a brief moment, before nodding. "Request granted. They ventured elsewhere when we first arrived here, so it'd be nice to get caught up on the events aboard our repair ship."
Von Strauss saluted, before stepping over to the radio operator nearby. "Get me in touch with the Zuflucht. Ask if Captain Fallensteller would be up for some early morning tea. State that I'm requesting it." she ordered. She felt the urge to smile, but contained herself as best she could.
_ _ _ _ _
As Von Strauss waited, Váradi finally arrived on the bridge. Krantz glanced back, taking note of Váradi's appearance. He had combed his hair, and had changed his old eyepatch for a newer leather one. He was wearing one of his dress uniforms, instead of his usual fatigues. It had been cleaned and pressed, and he bore several shiny medals on his chest. On his hip, his revolver. Apparently freshly cleaned and polished.
"Good morning, Krantz." he stated, as he stepped up. Krantz raised an eyebrow. "You're looking more refined today." commented Krantz, turning fully to face him. "Yes, our conversation yesterday was a bit of an eye opener. From now on, I intend to be the kind of officer and leader that our men and the Empire deserve."
Die vier Freunde; Ephraim, Gawain, Lanzo and Dagobert, assisted throughout the night to the very early morning, helping with the retrieval of bodies and some of the clean-up, for which they were thanked. As a result of Lanzo's curiosity, the group ended up receiving the task of checking on the nearby destitute individuals, and assist them if need be. Following half an hour of searching, the gang discovered several smaller groups of homeless Cattans of various species, some having managed to flee from the fire, though others concealed their injuries and wounds. They were reassured and brought to the triage center, with Ephraim serving as a calming beacon, a fellow vagabond lost in this crazy world.
Soon, it was about 6:35am - news of the passing of two of their fellow marines prompted the quartet to put their headwear to their chest, to mourn the loss, before swiftly finishing up their work on shore. Things had finally calmed down, and they had run out of coffee about an hour ago, so the three of them that were living were feeling rather tired. They waved at the Cattans they had befriended during the night, and departed for the Magpisk, which was promptly raised back up into the Eisenstrasse and put in its proper place. The four quickly departed to rest, with Gawain just taking a sit and relax, as the other three took a nice nap.
Outside the Eisenstrasse, nearby sat a small collective of Cattans, clearly homeless yet smiling brightly towards the airship, staring at it. The group had nowhere else to be, and chose to watch the airship in particular as they had noticed the Magpisk being lifted up into it.
"Good morning captain." Karam greeted Fontaine on the bridge. "Sleep well?" The captain was dressed in a more fancy attire than his usual suit and coat. Nothing too eyectaching. Karam on the other hand was wearing a ceremonial uniform adored with decorations and medals. Flaunt it if you have it, Reginald guessed.
"About as well as you can when your head took a shot from a brick. Leopold said I should be fine, but the painkillers aren't exactly magic." He paused for a second, noting something odd "You're polite this morning. What do you want?"
"Just a moment of your time captain. There are matters we need to discuss in private."
"Everyone has secrets now, don't they?" Reginald was getting tired of this, it was too early in the morning for schemes and plots. He hadn't even drank coffee for the god's sake. "Very well. We'll walk and talk down to the hangar. I'm taking you and Graves for the captain's meeting. I need my senior staff to know. Malery, I'm sure will push herself in. Newfound vigor all of a sudden. Very different from Campo Diablo."
Karam gave the men an order to carry on as normal on the bridge and followed his captain to the hangar.
"It is precisely miss Belsey that I want to talk about. I believe she is a threat to this ship and it's crew."
"Oh? This is odd. Did she say something while being drunk last night? Did she start the fire?"
"Nothing as grandiose as that I'm afraid. No, she is more covert than that. For one thing, she knows about your plan to use the special weapons you are going to pitch for the local problem."
"How did she know?" Fontaine was confused. She would find out eventually, but not until it was too late and be basically forced to approve the use. The only people that knew about the plan was him and the four men in his cabin at the time "You, out of the question. Graves is too low and beneath her to even consider talking to."
"Dr. Snitskey. He has been spending time with her, because you ordered her to be looked over after the incident with the messenger, has he not? The drunkard himself confirmed it last night. After some more questioning, he said that he wasn't the only person she was curious about. Something about a list of names. Hopefuls? Recruits? Loyalists? I can't say. But that is something very dangerous in her hands, wouldn't you agree?"
"An interesting tale, Mr. Vaikar." Reginald could only comment as they entered the hangar. Although the story sounded plausible to him, he wasn't convinced without evidence to back it up. The accusation that Leopold betrayed his trust was a scathing one. The mention of a list is another.
They stood on the platform waiting for Graves so they could descend down to the beach and get to the meeting. Around them workers performed tasks to make sure everything was ready. Eventually the head enforcer showed up. And as predicted by Fontaine, Malery was tailing him close behind. Fashionably late, he guessed.
"Good morning, gentlemen. I presume you're going to the captain's meeting?"
"I am supposed to bring key staff members, so yes. Although, I will have to insist you stay on board for this one. I'm most likely going to lock horns with Manfred over how he's conducting business and the last thing I need is for you to undermine me again like you did last night. Especially if I have a plan I want to pitch to them regarding the problem the locals face."
"Ah yes, about that. Mr. Fontaine. Your plan to deploy chemical weapons during 'clean-up', will set negotiations with Cattapoli back years before it's even began. I cannot and will not allow you to even suggest using them. If you value your place in this company, you will not even think about them." There it was.
"So you do know." Reginald looked at Karam, then back at her "Leopold tell you?"
"You told him, didn't you?" She looked at Karam with scorn. And there was the other sign he was looking for. The first mate just shrugged.
"My dept and by extend, my loyalty is his. Not his company. I don't know why you'd expect me to be silent or discreet about it."
"You should have made him sign a NDA while you were at it?" Fontaine sneered. Karam was right about Leopold being under her sway then. So maybe the list was also real. Right now he was unable to see if he was right about that, but he couldn't deny the rest. Malery, the person who put the company first above all else, was a threat to his control on the ship. Now that is something he couldn't abide.
"Graves. Please escort miss Belsey to her office. She's now under arrest for conspiracy against this ship and against this fleet. Guards are to be in front of her door 24/7. Nobody gets in or out without my say so. After she is secured, do the same for Dr. Snitskey. I want them both locked up tighter than the Old Crow's pension plan."
"You can't do this, Fontaine!"
"I can and I am. You were given a winning hand, but you played it poorly. Should have stayed out of my business. Come Mr. Vaikar, we have a meeting to attend." The platform descended down to the docks. Along with Graves, they were meant to have a delegation of company men escort them to the consulate, including men from last night's brawl in the alley. Unfortunately, the head enforcer was now busy cleaning up another mess, so the other enforcers would have to do. As soon as this expedition was over, he was retiring to some countryside cabin in the middle of the woods. It was barely over a week in this blasted sea but it felt like months.
But that will be then. This is now. He focused on the meeting up ahead. It didn't take them too long to arrive. 10 AM, sharp.
When Fallensteller awoke, she found herself lying on her back, staring at the ceiling of her quarters having no memory of exactly when her slumber ended. She stayed there a while until she remembered how to move, and then, already fully dressed, she pulled herself to a sitting position with her feet on the ground.
There had been a single dream for her to consider, and it was a direct and unmistakable message, one which had seemingly burned itself into her memory so that the long, uneventful sleep wouldn't erase it before morning. Whatever ghoulish figure it was that spoke to her, it revealed that her soul was adrift, no longer welcome in the Garden of Delights or the Garden of Torment... two places about which she had never been told but were clearly analogous to Heaven and Hell. The being seemed to think of this as a horrible mistake, and called it false longevity. On the other hand, this proves that I truly have escaped the damnation that awaited me, she thought with a smile. ...And this Garden of Delights... perhaps someday I'll visit when Raum conquers all.
She stood and lumbered to the mirror, looking upon her ashen face with disdain. Trying to master a ritual which would restore its natural color still seemed a difficult prospect when she lacked coordination, and upon pondering that thought, only then did she remember to start breathing again. There was another way to conceal her appearance, after all: she sat herself at her desk, opened a drawer, and retrieved a smaller mirror and a satchel of makeup which she kept on the ship for formal events, like the gala at Campo Diablo. Of course, the powder within was one which closely matched her original, healthy skin tone, and with some careful application along with some blush, she managed an acceptable result.
After taking some time to clean the interior of her quarters to cover the scene of her death (the large rug proved quite handy in concealing some of stained floorboards), she donned her cap and glasses and parted for the bridge. It seemed like a rather chilly morning outside, which meant others aside from her would be wearing heavier clothing. As she passed low-ranking members of the crew, some of them seemed to shrink away from her nervously, or look away, at the floor, et cetera, even as they saluted her. Other seemed to look more closely, and more critically. She stopped one of them, just to be sure there was nothing obvious about her condition that she was failing to notice. "You- ensign!" she addressed him.
"Yes captain," he replied at once.
"I've had a difficult night and I'm only now getting to the bridge. Is there anything going on that I should be aware about?"
The young man's expression told her he was nervous, but his reply was crisp and direct. "There's a lot of talk going around about those batfolk who came from the island. Some of the sailors are frightened of them, or even think they're demonic. Commander Schuster has set me and most of the other officers straight on the matter but we've been having a hell of a time calming everyone down."
"Is that so?" Fallensteller replied, suddenly remembering that she had never properly integrated her new crewmen before completing her contract with Raum. "That's good to know; I'll look into finding some permanent tasks for our new friends as soon as I've attended to the most important matters first."
"Captain, there's another problem," the ensign added. "Reverend Pfeiffer is ill. He said he had a nightmare... It was, uh, about you, Captain, from what I hear."
"Oh."
The young man winced at Fallensteller's benign reaction. "A-and, well, the truth is... several officers all had the same dream. When word got out, we all thought it was a big hoax, or some kind of prank, but when the Reverend-"
Fallensteller huffed and interrupted him. "I get it. I'll get to the bottom of this. But, out of curiosity," she asked with faux innocence, "what sort of things did they say they saw?"
The ensign paused, looking at Fallensteller's boots for a moment before repeating what he had heard. "I talked with Officer Metz this morning - she deals mainly with air circulation in the lower decks - and she told me she had the dream. I heard it from her before I heard it from the crowd. She said she had a vivid dream of you..." he said, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, "standing over a woman in knee-deep water, black as pitch, drowning her... She said your eyes were red and your throat was sliced open... and the one you killed was our chief engineer!"
Fallensteller's mouth hung open for a moment. "Gods... I would never..." she feigned. "What a terrible vision. I know Miss Neustadt is safe, mind you. She's aboard the Mariner's Boon at the moment with Captain Tobey. I heard there was cultist activity at Cattapoli and a terrible blaze last night. I wouldn't be surprised if that would be the cause of all this," she said, trying to mask her delight at once again being divinely inspired to speak of events she knew little about. "We're heading into rougher seas and facing more serious dangers; the enemy will try to dissuade us and break our unity with false omens like these, without a doubt."
"Yes," the young man replied, apparently calmed. "I agree, Captain. This is just hysteria... Still, If I may suggest, I think you should find Reverend Pfeiffer soon, or else this panic is going to grow. He's locked the chapel and no one can get in."
---
Fallensteller absolutely detested the idea of entering the ship's chapel to speak with the Reverend. Over the preceding days, entering that forsaken room had become almost unbearable, but nonetheless necessary to maintain a facade of innocence. She approached the entryway to find a crowd of sailors lingering near the door, their faces pale or red with mixtures of sadness, confusion, and frustration. She could immediately sense the division in the crowd between those who took the rumors seriously and others who were skeptical but still concerned for the Reverend's health, and that division only became more obvious as she witnessed who in the crowd who approached her in search of assistance and those who parted to either side of the room, awaiting some sort of confrontation. Their chattering nervousness was brought to silence when Fallensteller pounded her fist on the chapel door.
"Reverend Pfeiffer, this is the Captain!" she yelled. "Open this door immediately! The enemy is sewing seeds of discord through the dreams of others and here you sit as much a fool as the rest of the gullible lot! They need your help, old man!"
Behind the door, a weak voice tinged with terror replied. "Everyone else needs to back away, I'll only receive the Captain at this time."
The crowd shrunk away, clearing a space between themselves and Fallensteller as she stood in front of the door. "Reverend, they've cleared away. Now let me in," Fallensteller demanded.
There was a dull thunk from inside the large wooden doors before a crack emerged in the middle. Reverend Pfeiffer's bespectacled eyes gleamed up at her before scanning the room behind her, and apparently satisfied, quickly pulled the doors apart, allowed the Captain through, and then slammed the doors behind her and bolted them. "Child..." the old man said, sounding cold, frightened, and unwelcoming, the very opposite of himself. "I do believe that something terrible is happening aboard this vessel. And you are right to call me a fool, not seeing the obvious when it came knocking at my door!" he wheezed, crumbling into one of the undersized pews as he shook his finger at the black-clad captain.
Fallensteller barely noticed him. She was currently preoccupied with the fact that the chapel was now just a room like any other. She felt no discomfort as she looked over the quaint symbols and artifacts that decorated the walls, and considered whether her own dream had something to do with it. Perhaps before, she felt righteous scorn from the dead gods of Teutonia. Now that her soul was safely in the hands of the one true Lord, they could no longer reach her. She sat down comfortably on the Pew across the narrow isle from Pfeiffer. "And what's so obvious to you now, Reverend?" she asked, calmly.
"You aren't trying to prevent heresy at all, are you? That list you've had me make... you're trying to start a cult of your own. And your eyes- hidden behind those glasses!"
"They're red," Fallensteller acknowledged, ever gently. The Reverend was stunned that the Captain would admit it so easily, and was silent long enough for her to explain herself. "I've been cursed, Reverend, it's true. A few days after Campo Diablo, my eyes changed and grew sensitive to light. I had Neustadt make me these glasses so that I could conceal what's happened to me so that I can search for a remedy, but I don't believe one is coming. I would have come to you, but... well, look at yourself.
"You're accusing me of offenses which would condemn me to death. I'm quite certain I need your help more than ever, and this is the moment the enemy has gotten inside your mind and poisoned it." She removed her glasses. "So, if you're fully confident that I'm a devil worshiper, that I'm building a cult, and that whatever nightmare the enemy conjured in the heads of a few random people on this ship is more trustworthy than a lifetime of public service, then please, raise the alarm so I can be dragged in front of the Admiral and executed. Vitar will judge me and Rana will place me well where I belong. I hope that they'll judge me favorably, even if I allowed this taint upon myself in a moment of severe weakness, but," she added, glancing critically at the Reverend, "resisting the tricks of this sea is harder than I ever anticipated. I'll pray one last time before we go."
Pfeiffer looked at the Captain abhorrently as she simply bowed her head and began to recite the Prayer of the Pentarchy, commonly taught to Teutonic children. The words came effortlessly to her, as they were utterly meaningless just as the chapel itself was nothing more than four walls on a ship. "Stop that," Pfeiffer said, painfully coughing. "I don't... I don't want you killed over all this, child, but I fear for these men and women... I fear what would happen if your fortitude leaves you again."
"As do I. That's why I'm so concerned with eradicating the enemy's presence here as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. I don't want anyone to suffer as I have, or be blighted as I have. The names on that list of yours are the names of the people most likely to fall victim in the coming days, and even if they aren't a threat to the vessel, they are a threat to themselves. We're running out of time, Reverend, and the longer you stay in here, locking them out in a state of panic, the more they're going to question what this faith can do to save them when there are shadows lurking on every deck where they could hide away and pray to Raum."
Pfeiffer narrowed his eyes, shakily rising to his feet as he walked up the isle toward his personal quarters in the small room attached. "I haven't destroyed it - the list, I mean, - but you're going to have to tell me exactly what you plan to do."
Fallensteller wrung her fingers as she thought about an appropriate answer. "I'd like to re-arrange bunking assignments throughout the ship. I'd move more than just the vulnerable, to avoid suspicion of what's going on, but the idea would be to keep our persons of interest in a single section that can be contained and watched over. Some of the residents of that block would be our agents; think of them as sheepdogs. They'll report if anyone crosses the threshold from heretical thoughts to heretical speech or even sabotage. If we can't guide them back to the right path, we'll put them in the brig." She placed her glasses back on.
The Reverend let out a mighty cough and nearly collapsed when he tried to speak, and Fallensteller rushed to his side, helping him balance and stay on his feet. "I'll unlock the doors when you leave," he wheezed, "but I'm going to need to rest, soon. I can only carry the Lords' standard if I'm strong enough to carry myself."
"You need to be in the sickbay," Fallensteller countered. "Staying cooped up in this tiny room of yours must be contributing to your poor health. I'll have Dr. Keseberg prepare a bed for you and we'll set up the portion of the ship's hospital to serve as a temporary chapel. We can help control the flow of visitors, keep it from becoming overwhelming..."
Gripping his cane with both hands, Pfeiffer suddenly looked up at the Captain. "My child, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said sadly. "The truth is, I thought I knew the Gods when I was a younger man. I thought when I prayed, that I could feel their presence in the room. It gave me so much strength... Now, I'm here, and I've seen what I've seen and heard what I've heard, and my whole world has been turned upside down. I sit and I pray, and I lose sleep every night, but I don't feel their warmth like I used to. And still, these young men and women come to me looking for answers. I still think about young Heppenheimer and I wonder whether I could've done more..."
"Shh," Fallensteller consoled him, patting him on the back. "Gods, I know how you feel. Since Ackermann turned on me, I've had to lead this whole ship, all fifteen-hundred strong, making due with a drought of expertise at every upper level. All the while, I've had to cover my eyes so that they don't turn on me. I've missed being able to trust others. Do you need help gathering your things?"
"Yes," Pfeiffer answered. "Help me pack up. We'll go out together." He coughed heavily. "Your list is in my writing desk."
---
Inside the hospital, Dr. Keseberg greeted the Captain and the Reverend ("guten Morgen!") from behind his lab table, where numerous samples of demon tissue and other substances, mainly herbs gathered by riflemen from the trail at Blackstone and Veranhal, were lined up under microscopes or otherwise under glass. As Keseberg stepped around from behind the table, Fallensteller noticed Braam, trying to stand out of sight behind the tall table, despite the fact that Fallensteller was well aware that this was during the normal hours for Braam's morning lessons. She decided to ignore it for now, and instead helped Pfeiffer over to a bed. Immediately, Keseberg summoned the nurses and they set about preparing a space for the Reverend.
"How's the research going, doctor?" Fallensteller asked.
"Eh... nothing so far," Keseberg said. "There's plenty more I can try, though. We've barely scratched the surface when it comes to what we can investigate here."
"Getting the boy involved, I hope?" Pfeiffer said, casting a grandfatherly glance over to Braam. "I've heard a bit about him from the other survivors."
Dr. Keseberg nodded. "We've had plenty to do together. The boy is really quite smart, and I've told him that if we make it back to the Old World he'll not only be a famous doctor himself one day, but he could sell his story and make a fortune on his life experiences alone."
"Wouldn't that be something," Fallensteller replied idly as she set the Reverend's bags down. She was preoccupied thinking about the crew's reaction when they saw her walking with Pfeiffer out of the chapel. The two distinct groups she encountered on her way in seemed to meld back together again when she left. She hoped dearly that the calm would spread to the rest of the ship before they set off again, as she had major plans for reorganization on the way to Kadesh. When the Reverend was safely tucked into his hospital bed, Fallensteller departed for the bridge, pulling the note out of her pocket and reading the first few names on the list, before noticing how one name was circled multiple times. She stopped, totally arrested by the surprise:
Lt. Diethelm Pawlitzki
The leader of the ship's riflemen.
((Another post break))
Waking up aboard the Dawnbreaker after a sleep without nightmares, Ackermann was slack in his bed, having spent a long while staring at the ceiling. A few times, an attendant had entered the room to check on him, but he didn't acknowledge them nor the food they brought along. On the Zuflucht, he hadn't eaten anything brought to him for fear that it might contain some sort of contaminant, something which would make him sicker or which would weaken his resolve. Now, the delicious smell of untainted food wafted over him, and his stomach ached for it. On the other hand, his mind wouldn't let go of the fear of imminent death, the uncertainty of helplessness, and the total depletion of the spirit that injustice brought along. Prolonging his own life felt almost like prolonging the misery.
And so he stayed there in bed, doing nothing.
Lonstray entered the room, and Ackermann glanced in his direction without moving his head.
Good morning, Mr. Ackermann, how are you feeling? I trust that your accommodations are adequate?
He mentally debated answering for a moment, as he didn't feel much like talking to this man he didn't know. He knew he couldn't get away with silence forever; sooner or later he would exhaust the patience of his new hosts who had, after all, rescued him, and after Kahleen's intervention he doubted he was still on the metaphorical death row they found him on. "...I'm comfortable, thank you," he replied, thinking of the warm bed and the good food provided, even if he hadn't eaten the latter. On an impulse, he suddenly asked, "if there's one thing I could ask of you: if you have any spiritual literature handy, I would appreciate a copy."
Twenty years prior, there lived an unhappy family in the Stahlkamm River valley in northern Teutonia. Inside a worn country home on a secluded property, near a forest of elm tries and medieval era iron mines, a shoeless Pavlovian woman with bruises on her face made a neat breakfast of bread rolls and sliced fruit for her son, a nervous and elusive little whelp who often disappeared before sunrise- off to school, off to do odd jobs, scrimping money together so that maybe one day he could move to the city and get into a decent line of work. He never liked to be at home- not while his father was around. An older man with a thick mustache and a pair of cold, grey eyes, young Sebastian recognized him by the cloud of cigar smoke which followed him around almost as well as he recognized the howling, terrifying temper tantrums he threw whenever he disliked his dinner, or the house wasn't sufficiently swept clean to his liking.
The Ackermann family was rarely seen in town. Mrs. Ackermann never left the house alone, and Mr. Ackermann mostly went places he couldn't bring his son. Sebastian rarely made it all the way; the walk was long and difficult, and often covered in snow. There was only one place they all went together, and it was the only place where Sebastian would feel safe around his father, and that was in the old stone church of the Pentarchy where he was brought on holidays. Sebastian didn't know the Five, nor did he know to pray to Violla for peace at home. But even in his young, ignorant mind, he understood what was being preached: that this was a world with rules, that the good would be rewarded, and most importantly: justice would come to the wicked.
Mr. Ackermann would never raise his voice at the family while attending services, nor would he beat his wife in the days before the holidays, so that her bruises would have time to heal. He presented himself as a soft-spoken gentleman in front of the community, even though they knew better. Over time, Sebastian began to understand that his father did this because what he did was not normal. And when he realized how terrible his father was, hatred began to sprout in the boy's heart. Over and over, he tried to find ways to lighten his mother's burden. Over and over, he tried to intervene when his father, a dumb hulk of a man, attacked her, and over and over, he was beaten savagely for trying. Once, at sixteen, he was thrown out in the winter. He had no food, no extra clothes, and no hope to move to the city. His father had discovered his cache of money and taken it all for himself. But Sebastian was getting older and stronger, while his father was only getting older. Sebastian walked the whole distance to town. He gathered some old friends from primary school, now nearly men as well, and they hiked the whole way back.
One night, Mr. Ackermann came home to find his house occupied by a gang of teenagers armed with farm tools and was beaten himself. The money was already half-gone, spent on things unknown, but Sebastian took back the other half, and all his clothes. He kissed his mother goodbye and left the home in Stahlkamm forever.
Barely a year later, war broke out between Ungria and Pavlovia. Sebastian, now just called Ackermann by those who knew him, was living in a crowded tenement. He had no hobbies aside from smoking cigarettes, and made his money loading and unloading ships at the port. Bananas were the easiest, but the stevedore gave that job to the older men. Young, hungry types like Ackermann usually shoveled coal, or even worse, phosphorous. One day he was walking home from work, and a new poster adorned the wall of a local pub, inscribed in two languages:
TEUTONIC SONS OF PAVLOVIA
THE MOTHERLAND CALLS YOU HOME
On the poster was the image of a young man like himself, but stronger, braver, and his head held high. It gave him the strangest sort of nostalgia, and he thought of his mother. She had been about his age when his father found her somewhere in southern Pavlovia, on one of his trips to sell so-called "high quality Ungrian farm implements" he was actually importing from Xinchau. Everything his father sold was supposedly made in Ungria. Often, his father even claimed he was from Ungria himself, and in a way, he was a product of that land- Ackermann seemed to remember learning that his grandfathers lived in that place now called the Pracht Empire. An old man spoke to him as he stared at the heroic figure in the poster.
"Young man, don't be fooled. There's nothing adventurous about war, and Pavlovia is bound to lose anyway.
One day, two months later, Ackermann boarded a northbound train. He hadn't listened.
Away in a strange land, a man who could barely support himself was now fighting for a nation he didn't belong to, to avenge a crime his enemies hadn't committed. It was desperate, dirty, and he was so far down the ladder that he felt he couldn't even see light above himself. His comrades in the Foreign Legion were just like him: scrappy young men from around the continent who joined because they had nothing else to go home to, or they didn't know better, or they had some score to settle. Some, like Ackermann, were all three. The trouble was that they often didn't speak the same languages, or hold the same beliefs. Time and effort turned them all into soldiers, but it was like nothing they imagined it would be.
One night, one horrible night, Ackermann sat in a grain silo and wondered whether he would ever leave it alive. Another young man brought up a Pavlovian-language copy of the Diothesis he had borrowed from a quiet one from Rozak, and together, as they waited for the Ungrian shelling to end, they translated passages as best they could with the words they knew, and Ackermann wondered, if there really was justice in the world, why was he the one sitting and waiting for death to claim him while his father was probably off getting drunk somewhere on money he filched from illiterate farmers? It made his blood boil, but the soldier who suffered with him took him by the arm and calmed him when he had nearly had enough.
"This place isn't where the gods decide who's a winner and who's a loser. You're a good man, Ackermann, you'll get your day."
One day, the war simply ended. His friend at Klyastitsa died at Klyastitsa, and in a way, neither man returned home, as Ackermann returned to Teutonia to find nothing and no one waiting for him. At the very least, he was no longer struggling for money. His clothes were of decent quality, and he could eat three times a day, most days. It seemed like the military suited him, but he wouldn't go back to the army, no. Never again. And before he enlisted into the navy, he took the time to locate a copy of the Diothesis and flipped through it, searching until he found the one passage that always stood out in his memory from that terrible night, this time in the language it was meant to be read:
And so it was that no place was beyond the ear of Vitar. No voice of pure heart, no voice of reformed soul, is silent to the attending Lord of judgement, and even in the bleakest Hell and the most desperate suffering, there is always love.
Scripture always had the ability to calm Ackermann's nerves when he was desperate, and in a life fraught with danger and uncertainty, the ancient texts could still bring him back to that moment, head bowed in church, safe from his father, head bowed in the silo, safe from the iron rain. It wasn't so much that he was highly religious; even before leaving Teutonia for war, he suspected that it was all just myth, but the faith he witnessed all around him gave him hope for the human race when little else could.
---
Elsewhere, another Zuflucht emigre awoke in a bed which belonged to the Mariner's Boon. Neustadt turned over, having slept soundly and without nightmares the entire night. It took only seconds for her to remember how she arrived at this place, and when she did a terrible self-loathing rolled over her. The strange necklace she had received the night before still dangled around her neck, and she felt conflicting urges to dispose of it and to break down in desperate prayer. She longed for that comfortable numbness that followed her contract, before she knew the truth of Fallensteller's ways. She missed the days before this trip to the Lost Sea as well. It was as if part of her was embracing the role of servant while the other was still resisting, and the conflict was tearing her apart. The trouble is that while she could always offer the remainder of her soul to Raum and obliterate what's left of her humanity, there didn't seem to be any way to go backwards. She feared, deep down, that she would be drawn to Raum not out of choice, but out of the need to end the pain Fallensteller had inflicted upon her.
She placed her head in her hands and waited for Dr. Marsh to check in on her.
---
Fallensteller arrived on the bridge looking unusually businesslike. Lieutenant Weber informed her of the messages received in her absence: "Captain, the Blixtvåg returned your message last night by requesting your presence aboard their ship at 11AM, but the Admiral has called for a meeting at the same time. I've since contacted them and informed them that you will be available after the meeting has concluded. First Officer von Strauss of the Eisenstrasse has also requested permission to visit our ship after the conclusion of that meeting in order to meet with you."
The Captain looked a bit tired. "Of course. Tell them we'll be relocating the Zuflucht to Cattapoli shortly and that they have permission to land at any time of their choosing."
"Yes ma'am," Weber replied. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"I want you to send out an order to Lieutenant Pawlitzki and Officers Baumgärtner, Burgstaller, and Heinrichs to go to the meeting room at fifteen thirty; I'll need to speak with them privately. Pawlitzki will also be accompanying me to the Consulate, as will Officer Mesahri... and Commander Schuster of course," she said.
"Yes Captain, right away."
"Are we leaving now?" Lieutenant Kirsch asked.
Fallensteller nodded, settling into her seat. "Yes, exactly. Set course for Cattapoli and let's take her out slow, the water's still quite shallow."
Once the meeting time for Von Strauss and Fallensteller had been decided, the group from the Eisenstrasse departed for the consulate. As the dock where they had stepped off onto no longer existed, they had to lower the airship down to one of the concrete portions and lower the cargo elevator.
The group decided to walk to the consulate, stretching their legs instead of takng one of the trucks. A squad of soldiers followed closely behind the captain and his two officers, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious after last night.
As they walked, Krantz had time to dwell on the incident at Dagger Rock, the admiral slaying the cultists with ease and his shifting form. He had planned to bring it up at the meeting today, but after thinking on it, he was sure the admiral had found a way to reverse the effects his sorcery had on his body. He was sure that Fontaine would bring it up, though.
He also had time to think on the two officers following him. Indeed, Von Strauss had relaxed immensely in personality. No more did she go strictly by the book and try to be a model officer. She dressed in a more casual manner, her hair down and wearing only her dress shirt and formal pants instead of a full uniform like she usually did. There was also those strange shades that she wore often now, that they had recieved from the engineer from the Zuflucht. Stylish, but not really his taste.
Váradi, on the other hand, was a different story. No longer the gruff, angry soldier he had come to know during their time together. He was now a focused, determined, professional officer of Ungria. The combat fatigues were gone, replaced by a fancy uniform and medals. He had groomed himself as well. No more five o'clock shadow, no more scruffy hair. Even the eye patch was new.
Maybe his comments really did get to him. The question was, was this Váradi going to stick around or was he going to revert back to the Váradi from yesterday? Drinking numerous cups of wine, wearing a dirty uniform with a ragged eyepatch and messy hair. Disregarding everything and everyone as if nothing mattered to him.
He glanced to Váradi, whom returned the glance with his one good eye. In that moment, Krantz could have sworn it that it was a look of pure hatred, but Von Strauss speaking forced him to change his focus.
"I wonder how the Admiral and the others will treat the Gothians? Killing foreign civilians is a pretty serious crime in times of war." she commented, glancing to Krantz. Indeed, it was up there on the list of international war crimes.
"If we were back home, they'd be hung." responded Krantz, "But we're not back in the old world. And I doubt Jäger would even allow it."
"They were justified, in my opinion. They were attacked by members of the population. They because hostile forces the moment that molotov was thrown." stated Váradi.
Minutes later, they arrived at the consulate, looking around at the others that had arrived before them. "Lets find our table." said Krantz, looking to his two officers before searching amongst the cards for the Eisenstrasse.
Sweet Dreams, Tobey
With his gruesome business finished, Tobey climbed into the cell cot. Bennet had departed him as instructed, and he remained alone with the now-dead Heran who was still tied to the chair. It bothered him little as he soon enough drifted off to sleep peacefully. His face was adorned with blood lines mimicking the scars of the sorcerer they had killed at Blackstone, and with Ryza's Tear fastened around his neck, he hoped that something useful would happen.
There was a cracking sound. Tobey stirred awake slowly to the sound of something quietly being snapped within the cell, and his eyes opened. There in the middle of the cell, the dead Heran was slowly twitching. She was still tied up in the chair and gagged, but her arms and legs contorted slightly in their bindings. With Tobey now awake, her head tried to turn around to look at him, but because of the angle she could not. So her neck simply snapped, loudly, allowing the Heran to face Tobey who was laying on the bed behind her. The deer had no eyes and black ink was streaming from the sockets like tears or runny mascara. They growled into the gag and twitched again, harder this time, and started to violently fight against the bindings. The chair quickly tumbled over sideways onto the floor, causing an even louder racket.
Tobey was torn between fascination and fear, and so long as he didn't seem to be in immediate danger, he could do little more than watch on as the Heran struggled in the bindings. They were snapping and breaking their own limbs repeatedly to try and break free, and soon enough their legs and arms were twisted at terribly wrong angles as the bindings started to loosen. Even their head remained wrong and unable to settle at a normal angle. Finally, they broke free.
The body was unable to stand so it simply... crawled and wiggled itself across the floor towards his bed, the Heran using its broken elbows and torso to pull or push itself along. Their head was drooped down at a deadly angle and they were letting out a low, continuous moan that prickled his skin.
His eyes snapped open again and he was staring at the ceiling. His skin was drenched in sweat and was warm to touch, but he felt as if he had been trapped outside in winter without a coat. It was impossible not to shiver. Ryza's Tear was glowing brightly around his neck, as he could see that a blue illumination was originating just below his jaw. When he tried to touch it, the little gem burned his fingers and forced him to let go. He realized now that he was awake, his mind recognizing reality from the dream, and he glanced over to the Heran.
It had moved.
The chair was turned facing him and was only a few inches away from the side of the cot, so that as soon as he looked over it was right in his face. The dead beastfolk was still tied up - the bindings showing no signs of struggle - but the Heran's head was drooped at an angle so that it was staring down at him. Her eyes were open but lifeless, and it he wasn't mistaken, the fur just below her eyes were slightly dyed black.
His pocket watch told him it was already morning, but he felt like he had hardly gotten any sleep at all. Had the Heran moved on its own accord like in the dream, or had someone moved it to trick him? He hadn't been awoken by the cell door moving, nor the sound of any boots on the hard floor, and this was disturbingly similar to his dream. Based on the time, Bennet should be here in mere minutes to dispose of the body as commanded last night.
Cattapoli, Consulate
Early that morning, the Brunswick officers had dined with Counsul Fawnstar, High Shaman Vunor, and some other attendants. The security in and around the consulate was much tighter today, and all last night there had been roster changes and investigations to some of the guardsmen. A handful had been removed from service and imprisoned, while a few others were still being questioned. It was clear that suspicions of widespread infiltration among the guards was either remarkably well hidden, or unfounded. The cults had already been forced to act early with the arrival of the fleet, so it was likely that they hadn't had the time to properly turn many of the guards except for a handful. Renewed pledges of loyalty to the Cattan Islands and the Consul kicked off the morning, with many of the guardsmen doing so of their own accord by laying their sword at their feet and prostrating themselves towards Fawnstar.
While clearly tired, Fawnstar carried himself well and had recovered admirably since last night. He put on a strong face, but to those near him it was clear he would have benefited from several more hours of sleep. He nodded and spoke politely to Vunor as the shaman smoked his pipe at breakfast, while Mannfred and his officers spoke quietly among themselves about today's plans.
---
It was not long before fleet officers and their staff began to arrive - Dobbs, Fontaine, and Krantz being the earliest. Captain Antonio Valdez arrived shortly after the other three, dressed a bit sloppily. His efforts to the fleet had been rather minimal aside from the firefighting action last night, in which his ship and crew were instrumental to the extinguishing of the fire. As a captain of naval exiles from Corsou, he and his crew had more or less renounced some aspects of the naval tradition - sharply dressed being one of them. His collar was open two buttons too far, and he was sipping on a flask as he took a seat at one of the small tables with two other men. They looked more like card and drinking buddies than ex-naval officers, but they were early at least.
Just outside the front gate, one of the marines on duty saluted Captain Jager and gestured for his party to go through the gatehouse. "Head right on in, sir. The meeting is taking place in the courtyard just ahead. A table and chairs have been set up for your staff, and a placard with your ship's name has labeled your spot, sir."
As they entered through, Yarah stiffened slightly and leaned over to whisper to Jager. "There are some... demons here. They are both pretty strong, but one of them makes me a little... scared. I can't actually sense him because he is hiding, but its instinct... I know another Abyssal demon when I find one. Its hard to describe the feeling. I love it but also... try to suppress it," she explained, breathing a little heavily as her eyes got a little wider.
The Eissenstrasse table was beside the Revenant's, where the table was full of officers, maps, and documents. They seemed pretty intent on their discussion concerning their materials, and even a simple glance at the table would be reminiscent of any senior officers room during a war. One such person at the table was an older and scholarly like looking man, who seemed a little out of place among younger naval officers, but he just looked happy to be there and stare at everyone and everything.
Admiral Mannfred was standing and talking to some Cattan officers and some of his own when Dobbs approached and saluted. Mannfred returned the salute and shook the man's hand.
"Its going well enough, Vice Admiral. Today should be a fairly calm one, as we have some internal and external affairs to handle and preparations to make for our next move."
He glanced around at the other arriving captains, notably Krantz's and Fontaine's group. "How is everyone else doing this morning? After last nights excitement I hope you are all doing well."
As Jager's group entered the far end of the courtyard and made their way towards the meeting place, Jager would be able to see the admiral glance across at him - and then to Yarah beside him. A moment later he looked away, back to the others around him.
"How is everyone else doing this morning? After last nights excitement I hope you are all doing well."
"Well enough, Admiral. After last night, the peaceful morning is rather welcome." responded Krantz. The trio of officers settled down in their chairs, as the soldiers from the Eisenstrasse moved away to another section of the courtyard. Not too close to interfere, but not too far off.
Krantz sat as he always did at meetings, lighting a cigarette from his coat pocket and relaxing a bit in his chair. He didn't relax as much as Von Strauss, though, whom slumped a bit in her chair and crossed her legs. Váradi, on the other hand, was the model of a perfect officer. Attentive, sitting up straight with his hands resting in his lap.
Both Krantz and Váradi cut a glance to the scholar at the Revenant table. The demon from the night before. Therasmus. He certainly looked happy. All three of them then looked to Jäger and his group as they arrived. Most notably the new woman with Jäger.
Krantz raised an eyebrow. She was quite beautiful. Striking, even. Had she been on Jäger's vessel this entire time? Rather surprising that a man like Jäger wouldn't be flaunting her around like a trophy.
Therasmus was indeed appearing to be quite giddy, though whether that was his ineptitude at facial mimicry or actual elation was anyone's guess. It was a formal and generally cheery affair, for the moment, so his illusion was simply reflecting that. The actual movements of his hands were what mirrored his true form's actions, the face merely a complex mask as he twiddled his thumbs, tapped his fingers, and clasped them together. It was a sort of... elegant impatience he was displaying. To make the matters even less covert he would meet his gaze with certain other individuals as they came and got situated.
He did recognize Krantz and Váradi from the other night, the demon simply nodding his head and adjusting his circular spectacles upon being looked at. If word spread around of him being a demon he didn't truly care, after all this was merely a formality that he had promised the admiral. But then Therasmus caught eye of Jager's escort, his posture growing stiff ever so slightly as he leaned a bit backward in his chair. Another demon? Yes, it was one of the links he saw earlier, no doubt, yet the admiral's more... interesting aura distracted him from seeing it before now. Therasmus couldn't quite discern what type of demon they were, but they were another interesting tidbit to add to his list about the fleet. Would he give up this information upon being asked, or spout it out to the crowd like some sort of mad man? That was incredibly unlikely.
For the moment, since no one chose to address him he continued to observe quietly. Perhaps it would have been better for him to bring a notebook to jot things down into for appearance's sake to make him seem less... out of place. Perhaps next time. Possibly.
Cattapoli, Consulate
Mannfred nodded to Krantz. "Quite so, though the matters being discussed today are rather serious. Hopefully things will remain peaceful throughout the meeting."
As he spoke, a young beastfolk servant walked by with a tray of cups and a clay jug. The Niakoman bowed politely to them and set some cups on the table and filled them up with water, before continuing down the line of tables and giving everyone some water. Another servant followed, placing freshly baked loaves of bred on the table for the officers to snack on. Some still had a little bit of steam drifting off of them.
At the table Therasmus was sitting at, there were several notebooks and binders with blank pages for notes to be taken on, as well as smaller notepads that could fit in one's pocket. Pens and pencils littered the table as the officers poured themselves over the maps and document sheets. Should he wish to take notes or write, the materials were there.
As the Blixtvåg delegation moved towards the courtyard Jäger smiled and leaned in towards Yarah, as if he was telling her something funny. "Take note of everything you see and hear. You will not speak with the other unless spoken to and even then you will not of speak much. If anyone wonders you're part of the Gothian diplomatic staff and the effects of the Lost Sea kept you from appearing earlier. If you spot a demon or something else of the Abyss I want you to whisper in my ear."
Eventually the delegation entered the courtyard. Jäger nodded towards Krantz and Fontaine. He simply looked at Mannfred before turning his focus towards the seats ahead. He pulled out a chair for Yarah to sit on while Högborg, Kahleen, Wahlbäck and Fyrgårdh seated themselves.
Jäger was at the center with Yarah on his left and Högborg on his right. Next to Yarah were Kahleen followed by Dahl and behind them were senior military staff while Sandrina and Linda sat next to Högborg flanked by senior sailors and non-military staff.
At the back was Torsson, Kaspersen and all the other soldiers involved in last night's shooting. The wounded soldiers were the only ones not standing.
Once the delegation had settled in Jäger glanced at Yarah. He gestured at Krantz, Fontaine, Dobbs and Mannfred.
"That's Captain Edgar Krantz. His vessel is what we call a zeppelin. A massive hulking vessel that rains terror from the skies above. It's called the Eisenstrasse. Krantz and his men are from Pracht."
"Next to him is Fontaine and the crew of the Eye of Horus, another zeppelin. Fontaine and his crew do not swear allegiance to a crown, monarch or nation. Instead they are loyal to an organization simply referred to as the Company. This organization has reach beyond the borders of Columbia- Fontaine's homeland- and they can be quite dangerous."
"That man over there is Vice Admiral Dobbs. He's the Captain of the warship Dawnbreaker and fiercly loyal to Admiral Mannfred. By my accounts he's a good man, although a bit short-sighted."
"Finally we have Admiral Mannfred. One of the toughest people to read, at least for me. Watch your tongue around him."
Dobbs took his seat at the table while Wollisfend joined his side a little later, still munching on some bread. "The food here is quite remarkable." he commented to Dobbs, who only nodded in response. He had other, more important things on his mind at the moment, such as the contents of this morning's meeting.
"I'm quite well, Admiral. Better than the norm I would say."
---
Lonstray nodded and quickly opened the door and motioned to a sailor standing guard outside of Ackermann's room. He whispered his instructions with a little bit of urgency and the young lad quickly walked away to gather what was needed. Lonstray closed he turn and returned to face Ackermann once more, motioning his hand towards the food. "I see beans must not agree with you either, eh? They are quite hard on my stomach." he said with a chuckle, trying to break he ice.
"I'm Dr. Michael Lonstray, chief researcher aboard the Dawnbreaker." he continued, extending an arm towards the man for a handshake.
---
Nita slowly woke up as the morning sun glinted through he window in the room she occupied. She rose up a little before stretching and yawning on the couch and lazily looked around. Last night was indeed quite scary, but it was also... fun? A different routine from the day to day boredom she was used to. She enjoyed it, even if it was a bit dangerous.
After dressing, she opened the door and looked into the hallway, which was remarkably absent of activity save for a consulate guard that stood on watch near the end of the hall. Where is everyone? she thought to herself curiously. She took a walk around the Consulate, eventually finding herself on a balcony overlooking the courtyard, as well as the commotion that took place in it. It seemed as though it was a council of sorts, and like usual, she wasn't invited.
She noted the men at the table, probably important, as well as Vunor and Fawnstar sitting at the table. She remained on the balcony, though she crouched to try to make herself less conspicuous and tried to eavesdrop on what was happening.
As the Zuflucht arrived just outside the port at Cattapoli, Captain Fallensteller's accompaniment began to assemble at the skiff launch near the rear of the ship. Eight riflemen, including Lt. Pawlitzki, were the first to arrive, along with a technician to ensure that the skiff was in full working order both ways. As they idly chatted, they doled out some fresh coffee from a thermos and discussed the dark rumors still swirling around the ship. The Lieutenant himself seemed rather fascinated by the tale and seemed especially interested in the personal experiences of his fellow riflemen. What sort of dreams had they been having? Had they felt any connection to the Pentarchy since leaving Teutonia? Since before leaving?
On the outside, he was a completely professional soldier, with his blond hair shaved close to his head, and no facial hair. He had the build of a brawler, and stood half a head taller than any of the other men at the skiff launch. He had a tendency to smile without showing his teeth, as they were morbidly crooked, but he had the sort of jovial personality which allowed others to accept his toothless, squinting smile readily. At Blackstone, he had been left behind on the ship when Ackermann ventured out, and he openly resented it; whenever his men went into danger, Pawlitzki wanted to be there.
Under the surface, however, Pawlitzki had a small problem. Ever since the ship crossed into the Lost Sea, he felt... weak. It was difficult to describe, although he tried, many times, to do so when he visited Reverend Pfeiffer, to the point that he knew that even the patient shepherd was growing impatient with his constant visits. But he felt it, and it was getting worse by day. Every morning, Pawlitzki would climb out of bed and feel less capable, less physically strong, less resilient, and more vulnerable to temptation. He would disguise his growing fear with humor or even bravado, challenging his fellow junior officers to wrestle in their free time. Each victory began to feel like a fluke, and each failure felt more and more like the norm.
And his weakness wasn't just a matter of strength, or even strength of will. He felt what he tried to describe as a "human weakness." He felt small, pathetic, maybe even worthless in the face of this massive ocean. He felt insignificant in the face of gods and demons, and adrift in his spiritual matters. And then, one night on the way to Cattan, he had a dream. He was with his men, somewhere deep in the jungle of some unknown island, when a terrible monsoon began to pour. There came a sound of unimaginable fury as a nearby river began to churn and overflow, and the men, panicked by the onset and disoriented by the rolling, hazy mist of the hot rains, broke into a disorganized retreat which brought them into a soggy mire. Pawlitzki was thrown from his feet by the flash flooding and bashed against tree trunks, but fought to stay above the surface of the water until, just as quickly as the tempest had struck, it began to dissipate, and the waters receded.
Around him, dozens of men were submerged up to their waists or chests in mud and debris, slowly sinking deeper as they struggled to stay alive. Pawlitzki was the only one who could come to rescue them, but as he set his hands on the rifleman most likely to come free, he felt his strength leave him again, and all of his efforts were fruitless. Pawlitzki lifted, but his own ankles merely sank into the sludge while the poor man sank, as did others who were yet more desperate. One man up to his neck called out, but Pawlitzki was unable to help him or even look him in the eye as the realization set in that he couldn't save a single soul. Then, he felt an icy cold hand upon his shoulder, and instead of inspiring fear, it gave him hope. He let go of the man he was trying to save, and watched as he and the rest sank below the surface noiselessly. The sun set and the moon rose, and the days passed in blur as Pawlitzki stood like a statue over their mass grave. Then, the unseen figure behind him leaned forward, breathing softly with cold breath upon his ear, and spoke some strange words which the Lieutenant didn't comprehend.
And one by one, the soldiers climbed out of the ground.
"Go to him," the icy voice spoke, and the dream ended. Pawlitzki was afraid when he awoke, as he knew that Raum's servants were haunting his sleep. Like Heppenheimer days earlier, his blood cross had been wiped away, and when he spoke to Pfeiffer last, the latter nearly summoned the entire officer staff. But unlike the dead technician, Pawlitzki wasn't quite convinced by the Reverend's calls for fortitude. The Lieutenant wanted to know the truth of what Raum was trying to tell him, and he went back to bed without the cross at all. He continued to do so for several more nights, and experienced numerous odd but benign dreams in which he was slowly rehabilitated. He began to feel valid and he saw meaning in his existence again, and felt capable of being the leader his ship needed him to be. Then, the same night others dreamed of their Captain committing a murder, Pawlitzki had his own meaningful vision.
He was alone on the same jungle island, building a shrine to the one true God, an altar under the reddish setting sun, and when he was finished he took a knee in front of it. A powerful figure gripped him with icy hands, forcing him down and onto the raised rock, placing a knife up to his neck. "Say the name of the Lord and give him what he is owed. Then, you will be freed of your burdens," the icy voice cooed.
"Raum," Pawlitzki said, and he felt the sting of the blade as it tore through his neck, opening his arteries to the air and letting the blood flow free. Far from panicking, he turned to try to see the owner of the icy voice, and found no one. The blade, meanwhile, was in his own hand. He awoke again, feeling the strangest longing, as if the nightmarish vision was really quite pleasant and true. He hadn't told anyone what he knew, and instead looked forward to meeting the Captain. If, as others said, she was secretly a servant of Raum, then it was fate that he should be invited to go with her to this Consulate and have the chance to ask her a question or two.
Mesahri arrived next, dressed in a unique variation of the Teutonic uniform that the ship's tailors had helped her create the previous night to accommodate her strange form. It consisted of a standard gray long coat, adorned with numerous shining buttons and an iron cross, which had its sleeves cut off at the shoulders. The front seam was sewed closed so that its buttons were purely decorative, but two additional seams with hook and fasteners were added below the wide arm holes, all necessary. Beneath, she wore a practical set of black pants and a sleeveless halter top, allowing her full range of motion to use her wings. A set of leather wraps encircled her lower legs and the soles of her feet, but left her toes exposed to grip surfaces, and a black recreation of the wide-brimmed hat she brought to the ship adorned her head, rising to a single point in the center with two smaller points, each a pocket for one of her tall ears, on either side.
Creating the uniform was one of her first priorities once she boarded the ship, as Commander Schuster had suggested it needed to be done while they were at camp the previous evening and she immediately set her heart on it. So far, she was the only one of the batfolk who had been fitted, but her own outfit would serve as the template for the six others who joined, and she took pride in the outfit she helped design. The riflemen greeted her coldly, but Pawlitzky reprimanded them, and went out of his way to greet her properly.
"Hey, bat-girl, have you ever fired a pistol before?" he asked her, showing off his SP-92. "I've heard these are banned on your islands."
Mesahri nodded. "You heard right," she said. "That's okay, though, I'm not much of a fighter myself."
"Come on, just one shot. How do you know you won't like it?"
Mesahri stepped forward with a sigh and reached out. Pawlitzki gave her his handgun and was about to give her a lesson with it when the bat raised her arms and pointed the gun right at him. "Scheiße! Point that thing somewhere else!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know-"
"Don't point it at him, either! Give me that!" Pawlitzki took the gun back, and after a moment, broke into a chuckle. "By the Lords, you really haven't seen much of these, have you? You never point a loaded gun at a friend."
"Oh, okay," Mesahri replied. "How do I know-"
"Always assume it's loaded," Pawlitzki added. "Never take any chances." Fallensteller and Schuster then entered, and were the last to arrive. They had been in the meeting room, negotiating. "Next time I'll tell you all the basics, first. And then I'll let you shoot it."
Mesahri shrugged. "Uh, thanks, I guess..."
---
Minutes Earlier
"We're at a critical stage, Mr. Schuster," Fallensteller explained when she had finished telling the entire story. "When I come face to face with Calcifer again, every action I take, and some I do not, will be judged. He may very well see that I've risen from the dead the moment he lays eyes on me, but then again, he might be deceived. It could depend on your loyalty, or your honesty, and frankly, I will have your loyalty before we arrive. Do you know why, Mr. Schuster?"
"...No, ma'am. I thought you already had it."
"Haw, haw, haw, Mr. Schuster. If only words were so valuable. No, I've had your word, but loyalty comes from obligation. And I know of only one form of absolute obligation." Fallensteller reached into her coat pocket and procured the knife she had used to kill herself.
"No..." he begged, but it was useless.
"What would the fleet say if they knew you helped arrange for Mr. Pletcher's death, Mr. Schuster? Do you think informing Calcifer, a demon himself, that I'm a servant will help you escape from the damnable course you've already taken? Make no mistake, Mr. Schuster. I've been spoken to- I know there is a Garden of Torment awaiting you for what you did, and it will claim you no matter what choice you make from here on. But you have another choice. Iron out the divisions of your loyalty and place your trust in me, and in Raum, the Lord! After all... I've done far worse than you ever will, but I'll never suffer as you would if you turn on me now."
The color drained from Schuster's face. "We're talking about the entire human race, Captain!"
"And not one of them can save your soul. But I can. Raum can. We can leave the human race behind and become something eternal. But I just can't give you any longer to make up your mind about it, because I need you now, and Raum needs your service, now."
"Captain..." he pleaded.
"Now."
Schuster recoiled, every fiber of his being telling him to run and hide, that his life was in mortal peril, but there was no secret place to run off to- no hayloft to hide in and brood over the unfairness of it all. Every word Fallensteller spoke was true, and he was already damned for his conspiracy. What else did he have to lose?
---
Schuster rubbed his arm, bandaged and hidden beneath his jacket and overcoat. He felt very, very sick, and knew that he had made the wrong choice. Sure, he may have been damned before, but by making his own contract with Raum, by allowing Fallensteller to cut him with that volcanic glass, that he had invited a deep and vivid Hell into his waking life. He only hoped that it wouldn't be visible as they departed for the shore.
Fallensteller muttered a curse under her breath as the skiff set off for shore. They would be arriving right before the start of the meeting, which would be somewhat rude. "Hurry it up!" she shouted at the technician who was controlling the boat.
---
A while later, they were stamping their way through the Consulate, looking almost hostile in their dark grey uniforms and bristling with rifles. Eventually, Fallensteller and her accompaniment hit the threshold of the meeting room. The other captains were already present and seated, and so she swept in, resolving to look confident as if nothing was amiss. The riflemen stayed behind aside from Pawlitzki, and he, Fallensteller, Schuster, and Mesahri made up the delegation from the Zuflucht. As the Captain entered, she immediately took notice of three powerful auras when she had only expected one. There was Calcifer, of course, and he was still disguised as the Admiral. There was another figure at the Admiral's table who looked like he didn't belong. As she looked to him, he looked back at her, and she knew that she was being watched. And finally, there was a young woman sitting next to Captain Jäger.
Fallensteller supposed that none of them were human. She cast a knowing smile at the young woman beside Jäger, as she would likely get to meet her over brunch later that day.
---
Ackermann shrugged. "I just don't feel like eating," he said, before shaking the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, doctor."
Jäger smiled and nodded at Fallensteller. He leaned towards Yarah. "Captain Sabine Fallensteller of the Zuflucht. Lovely woman. Extremely dangerous as well. The fleet suspects her of consorting with darker powers. I do not care however. She is within my grasp and as long as I control her- while she believes she can control me- she will be useful."
"I'm afraid we did not have such a peaceful morning, admiral." Fontaine said with a tired tone and gestured to Karam next to him. "My first mate confined some findings with me and uncovered a conspiracy on board the Eye. It was against me and by extension, against the fleet. So we had to take some last minute action when the rattlesnakes made themselves apparent. Unfortunately that leaves only me and him for this meeting."
Fontaine had a quick look around to see who else was there. Krantz and his man were there, as expected. The demon was also there. 'Wonder how long until he is revealed to the rest?'
Jäger was flaunting a trophy wife. 'Was she here before or did he recently pick her up? Where would he? Did he just hide her for some reason? Didn't seem a thing that he would do.' Karam's opinion of the man didn't change.
Fallensteller of course grabbed his attention. Last time he saw her was in Campo Diablo when she was having a breakdown. Now she's confidently striding in like nothing happened. 'Just how much makeup did you put on?' Fontaine didn't think much of that. Female vanity was something he never understood nor cared about. Although the glasses were an odd touch. 'Must be some Teutonic fashion statement. Hide the eyes to make them more mysterious.'
Krantz watched as Fallensteller and her group arrived and found their seats. He hadn't seen her since the meeting days earlier where Ackermann attempted to protest her returning to her duties as captain. Ackermann himself apparently attempted to kill her later on, but was arrested and thrown in the brig before he could do the deed.
Apparently she also had gained a few new crew members from the island in the form of bats. A female one sat the table with them, dressed in a modified Teutonic uniform. Interesting. Maybe he should have brought one or two of the Kobolds that Von Strauss had recruited.
Von Strauss studied Fallensteller and the others from the Zuflucht, and noticed that the engineer Neustadt was missing from the group. Supposedly Fallensteller and Neustadt were close friends, so it was strange to see that she wasn't with her. She'd have to ask her about it later when they met for tea.
https://youtu.be/L8C5qF8t37E
Tobey took long , heavy breaths. The dream had been so real, and deep inside him, a memory had been touched. A memory of something he had himself forgotten the meaning of.
But it had instilled great fear in him.
Wanting to get away from the corpse, as it's movement greatly disturbed him. He rose out of the bed and studied the lifeless slave before him. Taking note of it's intact form contrary to it's mangled dream shape, he was fascinated why the black dye beneath her eyes. Dream and reality seemed to overlap, concrete evidence that the forces he was dealing with reached into many different realms and plane to exercise it's powers.
As Tobey stood and studied both the corpse and the jewel, shining brightly as it did, when Bennett entered the room with a few companions. Tobey met their gaze but remained silent for a brief moment. "Dispose of the body, and then meet me at the bridge." he instructed with a cold voice as he walked past the group.
Well back in his quarters he studied the himself in a mirror. No alterations to his external appearance and even though he had been shaken by his nightly visions, he did not feel any different mentally. What really spurred Tobey was Ryza's tear. It shone like a bulb powered by electricity. Andria seemed to have had some valuable knowledge after all.
Later.
"A battery?" Bennett asked.
"Indeed, Mister Bennett." Tobey replied as he dangled the brilliant Tear from it's chain. "Andria told of it's ability to store ethereal energies."
He flashed a reserved grin. but was filled with excitement. With this new-found fuel, they only needed find a way to utilize it.
Through the windows of the bridge he could see the Zuflucht moving out and heading towards Cattapoli. He would have to thank Sabine for sharing her experiences with him the evening before.
"Let's not delay. We have a meeting to attend to after all." he said as he put the necklace into one of his inner pockets. "Mister Nelson."
Nelson nodded slowly as usual, and put the gear into half ahead.
As the Mariner's Boon slowly lurched out of the bay following the Zuflucht, a band of sailor could be seen throwing a sizable sack overboard as they sand an old Arkham sea shanty.
The sack sank at first, but the resurfaced. It bobbed morbidly as the ship left it in it's wake.
---
Well at the consulate, Tobey, along with Bennett and Norton, met up with Norrys. He and his men had made camp along the outer wall of the grand building.
"Anything particular to report, Captain?" Tobey asked, not quite as scolding as a proper naval commander would have been.
"It's a very convoluted story, Mister Tobey, chaotic even. I'm fairly confident most of the blame can be shifted onto the Gothians." Norrys replied in a rigid tone.
Tobey nodded slightly, satisfied with the answer.
The four of them made their way into the consulate. As Tobey and Norrys made their way to sit down, he only greeted the Admiral, Fontaine and Fallensteller, all with a minimalistic nod.
---
Doctor´Marsh entered opened the door to Neustadts room and peeked inside.
"Ah, you're awake" he said as he opened the door fully.
He walked over to the chair that was next to her bed and sat himself down to be on the same level.
"How are you feeling today, Miss Neustadt. I must say your reactions last night had me quite worried."
"Ah, well. I'm afraid there isn't a cure for that." Lonstray replied jokingly. "Do you mind if I stay and ask you some questions? I'm not a degree holder in psychology but I do know enough to try and maybe help you with... what might be on your mind at the moment?" he asked Ackermann politely.
---
Dobbs took another glance around the room to see those that were in attendance, sparing a slightly longer glance at Fallensteller before returning his gaze in front of him. Wollisfend in the meantime only leaned back in his seat, taking a comfortable position to view the table with. I will get to the bottom of this, Ackermann. This injustice against you will not go unpunished. Dobbs thought to himself. I just need to time it correctly...
"Lovely weather today, eh chaps? Perhaps the sea will continue to be favorable in the coming days." Wollisfend commented to everyone.
As the Zuflucht delegation took its seats, Mesahri excitedly asked about the many faces in the room. The various tables composed a unique gallery of nationalities and personality, and she was especially fascinated by the uniform conventions she saw. Pawlitzky was somewhat quiet and nervous; now that he was away from his unit. He had never accompanied the Captain on official duties like this and was worried that he would somehow reveal his spiritual insecurities, unaware that the Captain was sympathetic. Fallensteller and Schuster took turns giving the who's-who, when they were able.
"That one with the eye patch is Admiral Mannfred," Fallensteller began, quietly. "You can safely assume that everything he's about to say is some form of deception, as it's been from the beginning. While we're technically under his command, we owe him nothing more than the most basic of cooperation. Expect him to become an enemy within the near future."
Pawlitzky started paying much closer attention.
"The Commander told me a little about that..." Mesahri replied, curiously. "This is about some kind of religious issue?"
Fallensteller nodded. "You could say that. In time, you'll see the extent to which the issue separates our vessels. I know you aren't exactly eager to be indoctrinated into any particular spiritual leaning," she added, somewhat cynically, "but you'll also find that few of us officers were very actively religious until coming here. It is... quite impossible to remain neutral here for long."
"Okay, okay..." Mesahri replied, not wanting a lecture. "Who's she?" she asked suddenly, a bit agog at Yarah and her blue dress.
Fallensteller looked to Schuster, and it was clear that neither was sure. "We don't know," Schuster said.
"She's either a sorceress or some kind of demon," Fallensteller said. "I can sense it. The man sitting next to her, with the blond hair... that's Captain Jäger. His ship sails under the water."
Mesahri's eyes went wide. Fallensteller had explained it as matter-of-fact, but it was really quite otherworldly. "Wow... is he our friend?"
"It seems so," Schuster said. "Jäger has been sympathetic to our Captain more so than the others have, with the exception of Captain Tobey." He directed Mesahri's attention to the stern-looking man with the rather brutish-looking entourage that had just entered and nodded their way.
"We can trust him," Fallensteller confirmed. "Our end goals may differ, but so long as our means are similar we're both keen to cooperate. And the sort of dealings we've already made mean that Tobey is an enemy of Mannfred as well."
Pawlitzky was finally moved to interject. "Excuse me," he said, "Captain, am I hearing you correctly? What exactly is happening between us and the Revenant?"
Fallensteller smirked. "Reverend Pfeiffer recommended you for my inner circle," she said, and in a way she was being quite honest. "Any other Captain in this fleet would be alarmed to learn that their infantry's commanding officer is consorting with the enemy, but you're quite lucky, Lieutenant."
His heart began to beat faster as he was suddenly cornered, too frightened by the prospect of exposure to even contemplate being betrayed by Pfeiffer like this. "H-how so?" he replied. Fallensteller leaned over and whispered in his ear, and her breath was cold as ice.
"The Zuflucht sails in service of the Lord."
Pawlitzky froze, before an astonished look of revelation settled over him. "So all of it's true, then," he said quietly.
"You know very little of the truth," she answered, mysteriously. "Soon enough, you'll know, as long as I have your loyalty."
While Fallensteller and Pawlitzky were busy conversing, Mesahri asked Schuster about airships. Schuster identified Captains Krantz and Fontaine. "Those two men are in charge of the airships. It's a bit odd, come to think of it, that the Captain doesn't have a particularly strong relationship with either of them, given our role. Captain Krantz isn't exactly fond of her, after what happened at Campo Diablo, and Fontaine has been a bit enigmatic since the start. We haven't really had any dealings with him. That woman sitting near Krantz, though, that's Luna von Strauss. She'll be coming for a visit later today to have tea with the Captain, so that's something."
"Who's that?" Mesahri asked, pointing at Dobbs.
Fallensteller had rejoined the conversation and looked idly in the direction she indicated, meeting Dobbs' gaze head on before the latter looked away quickly. She scowled. "Vice Admiral Dobbs... he's loyal to Mannfred. I think he might be planning something."
"Why's that?" Schuster asked, nervously.
"I don't know. Something tells me he doesn't think Ackermann's as mad as you seemed to believe," she shot back.
Mesahri could sense Fallensteller's anger and chose not to ask any more questions. The room was also becoming quieter as the meeting grew close to beginning.
---
"I fucked up," Ackermann replied. "That's how I feel. I shouldn't have tried it, but when I did, I sure as hell shouldn't have froze up like that. Now, I'm scared. I wonder about that vision the Admiral gave us at Blackstone. The future was... indescribable, it was so horrible. I worry that, if it comes to that, it might be my fault."
---
Aboard the Mariner's Boon, Neustadt was given a similar prompt. "I don't know what I want," she answered. "I'm scared to start doing anything, I feel like I ought to be erased before I cause any more harm, but I'm scared..."
Therasmus was elated to see so many interesting and diverse humans in attendance, though when Fallensteller arrived he locked eyes with her for several painfully long moments. There was something amiss with her aura, something he couldn't quite place that needed further investigation. Her soul was still in her body, that much he could discern and yet... it was tethered and linked to a place he could not exactly pinpoint. Very curious indeed.
It was evident to almost everyone in attendance that he was a demon, more so apparent that he was watching them very closely. Not with malicious intent but with very genuine curiosity, for he still had a great deal to learn and observe when it came to this fleet. Yet for appearances sake he gingerly picked up a notebook, flipping it open and taking a writing utensil to start rapidly scribbling notes down in its pages. To his credit the way his fingers took up the pen was only slightly off and alien compared to the way most people would hold it, his fingers curled in an uneven manner that could probably just be waved off as a quirk. 'Notes' was also a very generous term for the scrawling that took place in the pages, the pen merely a mouthpiece for the endless stream of thoughts taking place in his chaotic mind, both orderly and disorderly at the same time. When he 'spoke' he did so with many languages and voices, speaking forward, backwards, rapidly, and/or slowly as if many different personalities were attempting to communicate at once. If one were to look on the pages he scribbled on they would see something quite similar, different languages and orientations of scripture and lettering all over the pages and at different angles. The one thing his head seemed to agree on where the various diagrams he drew for himself, some looked to be like diagrams and maps of either a structure of roots or a river - where others looked like simplifications of geometry not seen in this world. The words weren't exactly empowered or cursed or anything like that, but if a person were to look over his shoulder to glance at that mess they would certainly get a headache for their efforts.
Marsh frowned, but it was not a malignant expression. On the contrary, it instilled sympathy.
Marsh took of his dark glasses and looked Neustadt in the eyes. At this moment she could spot that there was something wrong with one of his eyes.
It was made of glass.
He motioned for her towards the door, "Why don't we discuss your troubles over some food? Mister Longine makes and excellent marlin stew and I requested a meal for you as well."
Jäger drummed his left hand against the armrest of his chair while his right hand stroked his chin slowly. He looked around the room and ignored the remark made by one of Dobbs' officers. Weather is the least of our concerns.
He grunted and studied Mannfred for a while before spotting someone nearby. The man in question looked like any other officer but his posture was... off. Jäger watched the man stare at the different crews without even blinking. Then the man suddenly picked up a notebook and pen. Curious.
Meanwhile Kahleen stared at Fallensteller. Her face was neutral and revealed nothing. Her eyes however... All she had thought about during the night was Ackermann. The pain in his eyes. He had gone from proud to broke.
Kahleen clenched her teeth and continued to shoot daggers at Fallensteller with her eyes.
Ephraim felt himself shaking in his bed, as though there was some force attempting to tell him something. Was it time to accompany the Captain and co. once more? Was the Magpisk needed once more? Did Gawain need help again? It wouldn't be until a few moments later that he'd find out who it was.
"Mister Ephraim!" he heard Kass say to him, trying to wake the vagabond up after his short rest.
After assuring him that he's awake and sitting up straight, Ephraim asked him what he needed, when the kobold told him that there were some folks outside asking for him. He got out of bed and went to look from the Eisenstrasse to see whom Kass was talking about, with the kobold pointing towards what looked like a congregation of several Cattans waiting near the cargo elevator, presumably lowered earlier so that the Captain and the rest could head to the consultate. Ephraim felt sort of glad that he wasn't taken to a meeting for once, but the alternative didn't seem preferable. He asked Kass to wait for him over at the elevator, while he went ahead and woke up Lanzo, whom he had wake up Dagobert whilst he looked for and found Gawain.
Several minutes later, the four arrived at the elevator, where Kass seemed energetic to act as their translator, as they realized that these Cattans likely didn't know Gren. Before they entered, they asked Kass who these people below were, and were pleasantly surprised to hear they were homeless people. Lanzo put his arm around Ephraim and started laughing, saying that they've come to name him the Destitute King, with the vagabond telling him to quit it. With the laughs finished, they entered the elevator and went down.
The small homeless collective waiting below began cheering as they heard it go down, audible to the five going down. Lanzo carried a cheeky smile on his face, with Ephraim looking sort of confused, hoping that they hadn't actually come to crown him king or something. With the elevator arriving down, the homeless Cattans nearly rushed the group before Dagobert's spreading of his arms caused them to stay back, him just actually stretching unconsciously rather than actually do anything threatening. Kass began speaking with the group, and the Eisenstrasse marines, the employed hobo and the skeleton slowly introduced themselves, Kass having already done so earlier. The destitute, whom numbered some 8 or so Cattans of varying folk, beamed at their introductions, and eagerly introduced themselves.
To their left were, at least according to them, an identical Umae triplet of two females and one male, with one of the females, Ceres, being the eldest and the one who's protected the group thus far, with
her brother Didacus after her, and their youngest Alma looking shyly at the humans. They had apparently been destitute their entire lives, with their parents being second-generation vagabonds who died when they were young. They were all adults now, but seemed as close as ever. Next to the triplet, stood two Hera, Nikon and Zotikos, unrelated but as close as can be, blood brothers who've watched one another for many years. Following those two were two Agios, one who seemed to be an elder to the untrained eye but was apparently only slightly Ephraim's senior, named Thaddaios, and a female named Isidora, who unlike the others actually had a job akin to Ephraim, as a lamp lighter. A glamourless position, but it works. The former seemed to be some sort of former community
leader, and asked why 'former', he chose not to explain. And finally was a slightly weaker looking Vulkaine named Eligius, a 'recent' addition to the destitute fellowship, never having been able to keep down a job, and now having lost their dock working post following the blaze from last night; an apparent jack of all trades, Kass said he claimed.
Thaddaios seemed to be acting as the little group's leader of sorts, at least for this occasion, meeting and thanking the humans and skeleton that had helped them and their peers the night prior. Lanzo beamed at Isidora, asking Kass to translate a few questions he has for the Cattan closest to whom he considers a best pal, whilst Dagobert greeted the Umae triplet properly. Eligius and Gawain locked eyes, or the closest to it, and began doing some weird physical greeting that confused Ephraim, before the two Heran blood brothers bowed towards the vagabond, confusing him further with how much they were being thanked. Thaddaios seemed to have lost control of the group and was trying to rally them up again, to no avail, and Ephraim was sincerely wondering what was happening at the big serious meeting that was going to happen. Surely it couldn't be more chaotic there than what was going on here, right?
Cattapoli, Consulate
Yarah-kei nodded to Jager as the Blitzwave delegation entered and took their seats. The succubus couldn't help but also be somewhat enthralled by all the different manners of dress and uniforms, from the utility-wise fatigues to the extravagant dress uniforms. Even the Cattan guardsmen were turned out in their best today, with all wearing metal helmets with various plumes or feathers attached to the top. A few generals of the Cattan military were also present, dressed more ornately with far more colorful and softer clothes. One appeared to be an admiral of a sorts, as he wore a blue and white tunic which had ocean wave-like engravings along the bottom.
She listened closely to her master as he introduced some of the present nearby captains, her legs crossed as she leaned towards Jager as he spoke.
"Underwater ships and airships? I saw them when we arrived, but still you people are mad," Yarah mused as Jager spoke of Krantz and Fontaine. She said nothing when Dobbs was introduced, instead her eyes glancing over his prosthetic arm, and she squirmed slightly when the admiral was introduced.
"I... think he is the one. The Abyssal demon. Its so hard to tell, but I can just taste it off of him. He hides the power well," she whispered to him quietly, biting her lip. "No wonder you can't read him, he's terrifying. Demons don't like to hide their power, and his is practically invisible. And yet... it is all so delicious. You tease me so by bringing me here. I knew your master had to be special if he kept someone like you on a leash."
She then turned slightly and pointed out Therasmus. "That old man at the table with the men in grey coats and red sashes, he's a demon too. He doesn't seem to be hiding it except for his body, like your admiral. He's powerful, too. But bland. From a different plane," she frowned. "Us Abyssal spawn were always the more refined and tasteful. Though even among the Abyss, my tribes have always been the superiors," she beamed. It seemed Yarah thought highly of her succubus and incubus brethren.
Mannfred rubbed his chin as he listened to Fontaine. "A conspiracy, you say? That is certainly concerning. I, and of course the fleet by extension, stand ready to assist you as needed if you require it. Of course, I will like a full report on the matter when you have the chance to compile one."
---
Fallensteller and her group was one of the last delegations to arrive, though not all the heads that turned to look at her were from her near-tardiness. Those who had any magical affinity - sorcerer, demon, or otherwise - would find Fallensteller a chilling curiosity. While all people had an aura, typically a minor glow that displayed life, she had no such thing. Even her larger aura that was only seen on close examination by those with advanced senses, like Erasmus, had utterly transformed. If studied long enough, this aura which attached itself directly to her soul was simply a black shadow which dripped like fire. The only other person in attendance who could see this beside Mannfred was Therasmus. High Shaman Vunor's senses were not attuned to see such depth, and neither was Yarah's or Nita's.
Still, the succubus definitely sensed a difference. After Jager introduced her, she spoke in a low voice again. "I don't think you know what you're messing with. She's powerful, too, I think - but its very different from the demons. There's hardly any life in her. She makes me think of a puppet, its kind of creepy. There is also a... hint of the Abyss on her, but not like a demon," she frowned, eying Fallensteller.
"I don't like her," Yarah said finally, wrapping one arm around Jager's as she leaned against him - almost like she saw Fallensteller as a rival.
Admiral Mannfred watched Fallensteller with a stern eye, his usually blank face having a slight frown to it as well. He stepped over to his officer's table and whispered something into Captain Murdoch's ear, and the woman's eyes widened slightly as she barely resisted looking at Fallensteller. Murdoch started to scribble something into her notebook as the admiral returned to the set up easels - now displayed with maps.
Even Meshari earned some strange looks, though all of this was coming from some of the beastfolk. Their faces weren't particularly disdainful, but instead somewhat guarded. It was already apparent that the batfolk did not leave their caves often. Seeing one here among everyone else was clearly a surprise. From what Fallensteller had already gathered, relations between the bats and the other beastfolk was rocky.
Tobey and his men arrived shortly after Fallensteller, and once they were seated it appeared the meeting was finally going to begin.
---
Admiral Mannfred raised his hand to the assembled and called for attention. It took only a moment for everyone to get settled in.
"Good morning, everyone. Today we have a great deal to discuss concerning our next steps, as well as some matters pertaining to the internal affairs of the fleet. Our primary purpose for meeting is about the island of Nadesh - a hostile nation, and our next stop. Secondly, it has been brought to my attention that there was an... incident last night regarding Sergeant Torsson of the Blitzwave and Mister Norrys of the Mariner's Boon. This incident in particular is the shooting of a residential building resulting in the deaths of sixteen civilians, and the wounding of twice as many."
Some of the Cattan in attendance glared around at the humans, and a couple had to discreetly point out where Torsson and Norrys were located so that their stares could be properly directed. Seated behind the senior Cattan officers were some lower ranking guardsmen that must have been at the scene last night.
"Proceedings for a court-marshal will occur directly after this meeting. It will be a simple trial with the captains of the accused acting in their defense, while the other captains will be acting as a jury. Now then, we must move on."
The admiral pointed at two of the displays by him. One was a large board which displayed a landmass, the other a map of a city with markings. An ensign began to walk around the tables, passing out smaller versions for the benefit of everyone to study.
"As you can see here, this is a geographical map of the Island of Nadesh Major and Nadesh Minor. The latter island is mostly uninhabited and does not concern our operation. Instead, we will be focusing here on Nadesh Major at this point," he tapped on the square on the map, and then directed attention to the blown up portion on the right.
"This is the capital province. We will be conducing an amphibious invasion of the capital city of Varos, accompanied by aerial operations and naval maneuvers. The purpose of this invasion is multi-part. First, this is a nation corrupted by the teachings of Raum. Their religion worships a Sun god, though the true identity of this figure is the dark god Raum himself in disguise. Bestowed upon the Nadeshi is one powerful artifact connected to him - a chalice which poisons the mind with corruption. An artifact of this nature must be destroyed. Likewise, there are very likely other artifacts in their possession which must either be destroyed or captured for our benefit."
"Make no mistake - we are in the midst of a war. The Nadeshi people have been hostile to all outsiders for centuries. Much of the information we have today is thanks to the Cattan, who have skirmished on the high seas with the Nadeshi on several occasions. The Nadeshi do not respond to calls for diplomacy."
"I have already mentioned the religion of the Nadeshi briefly. Their entire state is influenced and governed by it. They are effectively and in practice a theocratic oligarchy, ruled by a council of spiritual elders. These members all sip from Raum's Chalice. It is a method of control which allows the dark forces to permeate their minds. Centuries of this practice have created a warped society that does not understand what has happened to it. Their fervor and ferocity stems from the evilness abundant in Raum's ways."
"Before I mention the invasion objectives, I will explain their technology. The Nadeshi are technologically superior to the Cattan in some ways. The key aspect to this is that they possess early gunpowder weapons. Non-rifled muskets comparable to matchlock and snaplock design, as well as simplistic cannons. They have only had this technology for a little over a year. This is because their advancements have been observed to occur in bursts - a clear sign of divine intervention as development otherwise is often considered heretical. The Nadeshi are often moved to act in a singular purpose, stirred to a frenzy by their spiritual leaders. As such, we are expecting that they have mass produced these weapons in an attempt to arm large portions of their military and populace. Regardless of this fact, only some core units of their military will be properly drilled in the handling of these weapons. A year is precious little time to raise an effective army to counter us. The rest of their military will be spear and sword based - not unlike the Cattan, but more heavily armored. Nadesh is apparently rich in metals. However, the spiritual affinity of the Nadeshi will mean we will be up against some sorcerers as well."
"There are three primary objectives, and three secondary. The primary are as follows: elimination of the governing cardinal, the destruction of their gunpowder store, and the collection and destruction of occult materials from their Inquisitorial Citadel. The secondary objectives will occur after or alongside the primary have been completed, and are as follows: capture of the gold and silver reserve, capture and destruction of their food stockpile, and the destruction of their main cathedral. Once more, our overarching objective is to locate and destroy Raum's chalice, and the elimination of the ruling council."
"The cardinal is the governor of the capital city of Varos. As I have mentioned before, spiritual leaders rule in all aspects of their society and adherence to their religious tenants are absolute. The destruction of their gunpowder store will greatly reduce their effectiveness in carrying out an effective resistance. Capturing their gold and silver will destabilize their economy, while the silver doubles in use for us as being material for weapons. Burning their food stores will put the province into disarray and will ideally drive away civilians not caught up in fighting us into the countryside, slowing reinforcements and sowing chaos. We will capture some of the food for ourselves if possible, but I suspect they will likely poison it. Drinking and eating their food is cautioned to the extreme as a result, and wells are to be avoided."
"Occult materials will be found at the Inquisitorial Citadel, and most are expected to be corrupted and needing to be destroyed. Others that are cleaner may prove liable to assist our efforts."
"Forces have been divided into assault groups and support groups. Assault groups will lead the attack, followed by supporting personnel to reinforce. Coinciding with this are the three landing zones."
"LZ 'Powder' will be led by the Blitzwave, supported by the Zuflucht. Your objective is the capture of their fortress and destruction of the gunpowder store there. Note that the invasion will begin with a bombardment, so the beachhead and minimal defenses will be softened. Keep in mind this is medieval brickwork, not concrete walls. Secondary objective is capture and burning of the food stockpile at the nearby docks."
"LZ 'Spyglass' will be led by my forces, supported by the Mariner's Boon. Primary objective is the infiltration of the Inquisitorial Citadel, secondary is the destruction of the Cathedral. Our LZ is not a beachfront, but the main docks."
"LZ 'Royal' is led by the Eisenstrasse, supported by the Eye of Horus. Primary objective is securing the cardinal's palace and eliminating him, secondary is capture of the gold and silver reserves at a bank several blocks away."
"A preliminary thirty-five minute bombardment will proceed the invasion. Resistance is expected to be scattered but resolute when encountered. These people are zealots and fanatics to their core. Our weapons are greatly superior to theirs, but they will have the advantage of numbers. Use our firepower and range to your advantage. One hundred Nadeshi can be cut down easily at range, but up close you will be slaughtered. Fire support from the zeppelins and other ships will be available, but to be used sparingly. Ammunition of this caliber is not easily replenished and urban fighting could lead to friendly-fire casualties."
"Once these objectives are met, our forces will continue to the Grand Temple on the outskirts of town where the council and chalice are determined to be located."
"Lastly, the rules of engagement are not in adherence to the Rostock Military Convention. All individuals over the age of thirteen are legal targets at the soldier's and officer's discretion, though younger combatants are also included as seen fit. Status of POWs is as dictated by commanding officers. We will not be taking prisoners with us nor storing them, so prisoners will eventually be released as seen fit. Any source of corruption is a legal target and to be eliminated."
The admiral finally paused, looking over the assembled. "Questions? Points? Clarifications?"
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