>>5689736

“Gather round children, gather round,” Master Brehm announces, gesturing around the dorm with an expansive wave of his hand. “I've got good news for you all. Well, most of you – Harriet, my girl, you can calm down right this instant. You've not got anything to look forwards to. The rest of you, here,” he continues, setting a number of sealed scrolls down on the table. Persephone is the first to make a move, eagerly seizing hers and starting to read it over.

Then her eyes narrow with a sudden suspicion. “Acting Exorcist,” she reads aloud, “And what exactly does THAT mean?”

“In a practical sense? Very little. Some very important people are concerned that we're rushing you through the last of your training too quickly – mind you, these are the same very important people who wanted more Exorcists in the field as soon as possible. So, this is a bit of a compromise,” the old man explains, “You've got most of the rights and responsibilities of a fully qualified Exorcist, but you're not allowed to take on a full cohort of novices just yet. Which, I gather, wasn't exactly top of the priority list for any of you.”

He's not wrong there. A little informal training is one thing, but taking on a full group of apprentices? No thanks.

“Anyway, I just wanted to drop the paperwork off. I've got a bit of an errand to run, so I might be away for a few days,” Master Brehm continues, “I'm confident that you'll find a way to use your time productively. Don't disappoint me now!”

Before anyone even has a chance to ask any questions, he gives a final wave before hurrying out. You're left staring at a closed door instead, giving it up with a weary sigh. You know well enough what “errand” he's talking about – he's probably eager to get started.

“Well, you're all... promoted now, isn't it?” Harriet remarks, looking around at the rest of the cohort, “I suppose I'll just have to work extra hard to catch up with you all!”

“Yes, well, someone else can take a turn with supervising,” Johannes grumbles, “I have an errand of my own to run today.”

“Oh, is that so?” Persephone teases, “That sounds very secretive!”

“It is,” the heavyset man replies bluntly, “And it's going to remain so.”

As the inevitable bickering resumes, you glance around to see if anyone else is going to volunteer to handle the training but nobody seems willing to step forwards. “I can help out,” you offer with a sigh, gesturing to Harriet before adding, “What do you want to do?”

“Ah, well, whatever you think is best!” she replies eagerly, “I'm in your care!”

Always faintly worrying to hear. As for the training itself...

>Something practical. You could teach her to perform some basic rites
>Something philosophical. She's got a lot of learning to catch up on
>Something physical. She needs some more sparring practice
>Other

>>5689738
>>5689738
>Other
"Persephone tells me you aren't a novice and that you know almost as much as she did. Hard to find a place to start if I don't know the extent of your education."
>Something physical. She needs some more sparring practice
"She also said that sparring is your weakest spot at the moment so we can try shoring that up first."

>>5689741
Supporting. Philosophical would have been good, too, but if we can wheedle out what her whole DEAL is... Even better!

“You know, Persephone said that you're not much of a novice. In fact, you knew almost as much as she did,” you begin, watching with some interest as Harriet's face starts to redden slightly, “It's just hard to find where to start without knowing the extent of your education. What about your weakest area, what do you think you need to improve on?”

“Ah... you know, oh gosh, you know I don't really like to talk about it that much,” she replies, a nervous tremor in her voice, “I just thought maybe we could start from... the top?”

She's going to make this as difficult as possible, isn't she?

“Well, she also said that sparring seemed like your weakest area,” you offer, “We could always start there.”

“Yes! I mean, ah, you're right. I think that would be for the best,” Harriet nods eagerly, “Sparring, that's definitely it. Shall we get started right away? I feel like getting started right away.”

Nodding in agreement, you start to follow her out before Persephone calls your name. “I'm sure that I don't have anything to concern myself with,” she murmurs, “But this had better not be a ploy to do anything funny with her, is that clear?”

“Damn,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at her, “And I had been planning some full contact wrestling. Trust me, my intentions are entirely honest.”

-

The practice rooms are quiet today – you're the only two here. Harriet busies herself with examining some of the wooden swords, never quite meeting your gaze for very long. “Um,” she begins once, only to fall silent for a long while afterwards. “I'm not really... that good,” she continues eventually, “Not like Persephone says. I've got a lot that I don't know.”

“You you've had some education,” you guess, “Before you came here.”

She gives a jerky nod. “Father brought me a tutor. He said that it was dangerous not to get SOME training, but that the academy was ever more dangerous. So, he found someone,” she explains, idly swishing her chosen sword through the air, “He taught me some stuff. How to close out the spirit world, then open my eyes again. That was the first thing I learned.”

“You'd go mad without it,” you agree, “It's tough, when you first start seeing things. I didn't know what was happening at first, and... well, it's tough.”

“But you CAN'T tell anyone else – I know that father could get in so much trouble for what he did, and I don't... I don't want him to suffer because of me,” Harriet pleads, “Can't we just... pretend like I'm just a normal apprentice?”

You're silent for a moment, taking one of the practice weapons for yourself and gesturing to her. “Keep your guard up,” you reminder her, “No sense in just pointing your sword at the ground. That's not where the attacks would come from.”

She flashes you a brilliant smile, raising her sword in a weak stance. Persephone was right – when it comes to combat, she's got a lot to learn.

[1]

>>5689763

Starting with the basics – starting from the top, as she said – you run through a short overview of combat training. Harriet is a quick learner, although a little too enthusiastic for her own good. More than once, you have to step in and keep her from overextending or getting carried away. But it's a good start, and a promising sign for the future.

“Phew, I'm exhausted!” she announces, dropping the wooden sword to the floor with a loud clatter, “How about a break?”

“My thoughts exactly,” you agree, sitting down at one of the benches, “So... this teacher of yours.”

Harriet pulls a face, but doesn't immediately turn away from the subject. “I don't know much about him, if that's what you're asking. He was very careful not to say much about himself. I suppose... I suppose he didn't come from the academy,” she thinks aloud to herself, “He had a different way of doing things. I mean, we do the maze thing-”

“The Dho games.”

“Right, the maze things. Well, he taught me to do something different if I needed to, you know, meditate. I wasn't very good at it though,” she shrugs, “I had to imagine that I was a bird, that I was flying. I was to imagine the world flying past below me, and then... I don't know, I was supposed to start seeing into the spirit world instead. I never got it to work.”

Considering how excitable she is, that doesn't really surprise you. The method itself, though, that seems odd – you've never heard of a meditation technique like that. Not in any of the formal manuals, at least.

“It all started after... Oh gosh, where do I even start?” she sighs, “I said that my house was old, right? Do you remember?”

“The oldest house in the city,” you recall, “And you said it was built on something even older.”

“You remembered!” she says with a brilliant smile, “So when I was younger I'd always be seeing little flashes of movement in the corner of my eyes, or I'd hear these really faint noises. I always felt like they were coming from deep beneath the house – down below the cellar, in the REALLY old stuff. I wasn't allowed to go down there, but when I told father that I could hear someone moving around down there, he... he kinda freaked out. And that's when he found my tutor.”

“Father travels a lot, for the business, so he meets lots of people. He has contacts, especially out in the colonies,” Harriet tilts her head to the side as she thinks, “I suppose he found someone there.”

“Perhaps,” you answer vaguely, although you don't know very much about the colonies, “Did you ever manage to get into the cellar? Or... the older parts?”

Harriet gives you a nervous smile, but shakes her head.

She's a bad liar.

>Let it go for now. There's no point in forcing it
>Press the issue. This could be important – dangerous, even
>Keep the conversation going, try to talk it out of her
>Other

>>5689778
>Keep the conversation going, try to talk it out of her

>>5689778
>>Keep the conversation going, try to talk it out of her
Wonder if the something she found down there latched onto her

“Well, it doesn't matter,” you decide, waving the subject away with a gesture, “I was just curious. It must've been really strange, living there when you knew something was underneath the house.”

“It was!” she admits, laughing awkwardly, “But I could never decide how I felt – sometimes it was so spooky, I couldn't bear thinking about it, but other times it was... it was almost fun, I suppose. Like I had a secret that nobody else knew about. Of course, I didn't really know much about it either back then. Ah... and I still don't know anything about it now, I meant to say.”

She's a REALLY bad liar. If you can keep her talking, it's only a matter of time before she lets something slip. You feel a little guilty for thinking this way, but this might be important.

“I grew up right on the edge of the Forest Kingdom, so I was always aware that spirits were there. I got told plenty of stories about wicked spirits stealing away naughty children or trying to trick people,” you recall, “But when I actually started seeing them for myself...”

“I've read some stories about the Forest Kingdom!” Harriet cries, although her eager smile falters as she sees your grimace, “But, ah, I suppose those stories aren't... the real thing.”

Sometimes it feels like you have this conversation with everyone you meet. “Forget about the Forest Kingdom, okay? We're getting way off topic,” you reminder her, “This teacher of yours – what did they teach you, and what did they leave out?”

“We focused on the inner eye stuff. Is that what it's called? Right, the inner eye stuff,” she nods to herself, “The practical stuff. But we didn't really study the history of it, the... I don't know what you'd call it, even. The lore? Guardian spirits and great spirits and... and why things work the way they do. That's what I don't know very much about.”

“So we'll start there,” you tell her, “How about the great spirits? You probably know a bit about them already – the Sun King, Adhra and-”

“And Sheol - I'm not totally foolish, you know!” she finishes for you, giving you a proud nod, “What I don't know is, well, what does it MEAN to be a great spirit? Are they just more powerful than all the rest, or is it more than that?”

“It's more than just power, although that's definitely a factor. There are other spirits out there that are powerful, but they're not considered a great spirit. The great spirits are... significant. Culturally significant, I mean, so it really depends on who you're talking to,” you explain, “In the Forest Kingdom, they would honour the Great Mother above any other spirit. Out here, it's hard to find anyone who'd admit to recognising her.”

“Do you... oh, um, sorry,” she winces, “Sensitive subject?”

“A little. But no – I was just on the edge of the Forest Kingdom, remember? The Great Mother is... deep,” you shake your head, “And it's best that she stays that way.”

[1]

>>5689795

“So you're familiar with Sheol. No need to retread old ground there. Adhra is the second great spirit, and maybe the least recognised – although he's certainly important. Adhra is the lord of the barrier, and supposedly the source of the Veil itself,” you explain, “But he also drew the barriers and boundaries of all things – the boundaries that separate, say, you and me. Without Adhra's great design, the world would exist in formless chaos.”

“Oh gosh,” Harriet murmurs as she considers this, “That IS important.”

“And the Sun King...” you shrug, “Well, I don't need to explain him.”

“No, of course not!” she laughs, “But hypothetically, if you DID need to explain him to a complete novice, um, how would you do it?”

This isn't even Exorcist stuff, this is just basic schooling now – but maybe she didn't pay attention to this part. Easy enough to imagine, considering. “The Sun King is the supreme spirit – above all others. His authority is what allows us to perform our rites, banishing or calling up spirits. He's the guardian spirit for humanity itself, watching over us and protecting us,” you tell her, “He speaks directly to the Regent, who rules in his name.”

“So that's why this big speech is going to be so important,” Harriet guesses, “It'll be the words of the Sun King himself!”

“Well, maybe. There's always a certain degree of... interpretation involved,” you remark with a shrug, “You'll just have to wait and see.”

“I always thought the Sun King looked a little scary, actually. I saw this mural once, down in the tomb, that looked really frightening,” she hesitates for a second here, hides a wince, then continues. “The main temple in Dacia has these tombs in it, you know?” she explains, her tone overly casual, “The honoured dead, that kind of thing. And all the tombs had this big, mean looking sun looking over then.”

Somehow, you don't think that's the tomb she was really talking about. “It's like Sheol's temple in the capital. They just need to look big and impressive for the tourists,” you suggest, “Really strike that feeling of awe into them.”

“Right!” she agrees, grinning with relief at your apparent acceptance. Then, still a little flustered, she hops up from the bench and starts clearing away your weapons. “So, um, this stuff about my tutor...” she adds, glancing back over her shoulder, “That just stays between the two of us, right? Nobody else needs to know... right?”

Idly, you wonder how long it might take for this secret to come out. If it ever came to a serious questioning, you feel like she'd break in a matter of minutes. And if it came out that you'd been covering for her...

>I'm sorry, but Master Brehm needs to know. I can't keep this from him
>Nobody else needs to know. I'll keep your secret
>Other

>>5689806
>Other
"It's going to sort of depend on how an ongoing investigation goes. We have some suspects in the wind that used Dho boards to breach the veil to cause havoc. Now this doesn't implicate your teacher, but I am going to keep that information in the back of my mind and might ask you more about them if I think it's prudent. For now it's a secret. I hope that's reasonable."

>>5689806
>Nobody else needs to know. I'll keep your secret
Maybe ask our boy the monk about the "meditation" technique to try to identify whatever sect or school she and her tutor come from. Either way, don't want to scare her off

She's putting you in a difficult position here, but you're not entirely blameless either – you're the one who started asking questions, and you're going to get squeamish now that you've got your answers?

Taking your silence as the worst possible sign, Harriet turns and marches over until she's looking you dead in the eye. “Say something, Lucas,” she pleads, “Say something, anything. Please!”

Reaching out, you gently push her a pace backwards. “This isn't a simple matter. This is a complicated position that you're in – that we're both in,” you tell her, “What you've just told me... it may have a bearing on an ongoing investigation. I'm not saying that your tutor is implicated in this, but I need to keep it in mind. I can't just pretend this conversation never happened.”

Harriet pauses, trying to boil your answer down into a simple yes or no but getting nowhere.

“For now, it's a secret. It'll stay between the two of us,” you continue, watching as her eyes widen in silent relief, “But I may have some more questions for you later, if it really does turn out to be relevant. If so, it's better that I'm the one asking them – trust me on that. I hope that's-”

Before you can say another word, Harriet throws herself forwards and pulls you into a tight embrace. “Oh thank you, thank you!” she whispers, “I know it's horrible and selfish of me, asking you to keep my secrets like this, but I just thought... I just thought I could stop hiding for a little bit, even if it was just between the two of us. I never thought it would make so many problems... I'm so foolish!”

“Easy now, easy,” you urge, trying to stop the rapid stream of words even as she squeezes you tighter and tighter. As politely as possible, you delicately prise her arms away from you and take a step back. “Keeping secrets is hard. I know that as much as anyone,” you offer, “But secrets can be dangerous things. If you ever feel like you need someone to talk to...”

“I'll come right to you!” she agrees with a hurried nod, “That's a promise!”

“And I think it's time that we head back,” you add, “Or the others might start to think that something's going on.”

“Something like... oh!” her eyes widen, her cheeks darkening, “I see. Um, yes. That would be... something. I think I'll just stay here for a little and, um, compose myself.”

Good luck with that.

-

With a faint feeling of guilt nagging at you, you roam through the archives until you find what you're looking for – the history section, and a book on the city of Dacia. Her family home was the oldest house in the city, she said. Hopefully, that means there's been plenty written about it – and this “tomb” that might lie deep beneath it. You just need to know how serious this might be, you tell yourself. It's for her own good.

But deep down, you know that you don't need the excuse. Your curiosity is enough.

[1]

>>5689839

Like most cities in Marusia, Dacia was founded on the site of some older settlement – so old that little was left but the occasional pile of stones. There were a few attempts at studying the ruins, but with no real results. There simply wasn't enough left to examine. What would eventually become known as Maxim House was originally the governor's official residence. It was later sold into the Maxim family as the city expanded, with the governor moving into a newer manor. The building itself remains elusive – an odd secrecy hangs over the text, something you put down to an apparent privacy common to the Maxim family.

You hadn't thought of that. You'd been assuming that a wealthy merchant family would be eager to seek fame as well as fortune, but apparently not. Closing the book with a sigh, you stand up for a moment and listen closely. “I know you're watching me,” you announce suddenly, your voice quiet but firm. Then you wait, feeling vaguely foolish.

A few minutes later, Cloranthy emerges from the next row over. “Okay, you win this round,” she admits, limping over before helping herself to your seat, “What's up?”

“Why do you always watch me in here?” you ask, sliding the book back into place, “Don't you have anything better to do with your time?”

“Nah, not really,” she remarks, pushing her curly hair away from her face so she can give you an appropriate scowl. As soon as she takes her hand away, though, the hair flops back down into place. “Anyway, you're one to talk,” she points out, “The only reason why you come to the archives is so you can flirt with cute girls.”

“Not true. I sometimes manage to get a little studying done between... ah,” you pause, cough awkwardly, “The other stuff.”

Cloranthy giggles, taking some perverse pleasure from your fumble. “Well, I sure hope I'm not distracting you from your important business. Or your studying,” she jokes, “What's that book you were reading, anyway?”

“History. Really boring history,” you explain, gesturing vaguely to the bookshelf, “But I get the feeling that the real history I'm looking for isn't written in any of these books. That's my problem, though, not yours. Clarissa's back, by the way, has she had a chance to visit you?”

“Changing the subject, huh? Suspicious, very suspicious,” Cloranthy narrows her eyes, giving you a dubious look, “But yeah, she dropped by for all of five minutes – talk about a flying visit! She said she had some work to do, but she'd be back later. I guess she's still working. She's always like this, you know – obsessing over whatever dumb work she's been tasked with, even if it's a total waste of time. Because she's a professional, she says.”

>And you're not bitter about that at all, are you?
>I think it's very admirable of her, actually
>She's just making the rest of us look bad
>Other

>>5689860
>>And you're not bitter about that at all, are you?

>>5689860
>And you're not bitter about that at all, are you?
Thanks for giving the other waifus a fighting chance Moloch

>>5689860
>She's probably desperate. Not gonna support her?
Why was the stonecutter sealed instead of banished beyond the Veil? What purpose do the sun seals serve, and how do we go about finding them if people are out breaking them?

“Uh-huh,” you reply, nodding slowly, “And you're not bitter about that at all, are you?”

“Bitter, me?” Cloranthy answers, her eyes widening with fake shock, “I would never be bitter about anything, ever!”

The silence draws out.

“I just don't see why she's always got to push so hard, that's all,” she adds with a pout, “She's always racing on ahead, while I'm stuck here going nowhere. You're an only child, yeah? I can tell. You don't know what it's like, having an older sister like her, especially when you're... like me.”

You can't help but glance aside at her walking stick as she says this, even as you see her lips twisting with a grimace. “You're right, I don't know what it's like,” you admit, “I'm pretty sure I'm an only child. But Clarissa... she's not working hard just so she can make you look bad. She's probably just...”

But your words trail off here, and Cloranthy pokes a bony finger at you. “Just what?” she prompts, “Just what, huh?”

“Just desperate,” you offer, “Desperate to do the best she can, even if she does get saddled with all the dumb chores. She needs people like you and me to support her, don't you think?”

“She doesn't need MY support,” Cloranthy says softly, looking away from you for a moment. She seems to think for a long moment before turning back to you. “Don't you start pitying me, either!” she stresses, lurching to her feet and rapping her walking stick against the ground, “Not here, of all places. You're in MY territory now, buddy!”

The change in her mood is so sudden that your head is left spinning. “Dead wrong!” you counter, “I'm pretty sure that I was here first.”

“But I've been here longer,” she argues, “While you were out there studying the blade, I was... I was... you know, studying the... books? That sounded a lot cooler in my head.” Hanging her head and letting out a low groan of dismay, Cloranthy starts to take a few limping paces away before glancing back at you. “What are you standing there for?” she asks, “Didn't you have some important business to do?”

“I did,” you answer, catching up and offering her a grin, “And some studying, too.”

-

“So you say there was a seal on the throne?” Cloranthy asks, tapping a finger against her chin as she thinks, “The Sun King's emblem?”

“That's right. It seemed to be sealing the Stonecutter away, but someone damaged it,” you explain, “I don't understand why you'd just seal a spirit like that away instead of banishing it completely. If it was too powerful to banish, how could it get sealed away like that in the first place?”

She flips through one heavy book before glancing at another. “Banishing a spirit can be a temporary solution. It could just return, so long as the conditions were right for it.” she suggests, “But sealing it away, that might neutralise it for good... until someone breaks the seal.”

[1]

>>5689896

“I've got an idea!” Cloranthy gasps, jerking up from her book and staring at you, “I mean, a really good idea!”

“Great, let's hear it,” you reply promptly, only for Cloranthy to look back down at her book, “Uh...”

“I never said I was going to tell YOU my great idea,” she teases, peeking up at you through her tangled fringe, “In fact, it's such a great idea that I think I'm going to keep it to myself. Knowledge is power, don't you know?”

“Okay, fine. I didn't want to know anyway,” you counter, looking back down to your own book instead, “I was just being polite by asking. It probably wasn't that great of an idea anyway.”

You read in silence for a few minutes more, all too aware of Cloranthy seething away on the opposite end of the reading table. You're curious about this idea of hers, but you hold your tongue. In the end, she breaks first. “Okay, so you said that this Stonecutter guy was piercing through the Veil, right? Well, maybe that WAS the point!” she blurts out, “Not anything to do with the spirit itself. Maybe they didn't care one bit about it – just the damage that it could do to the Veil!”

“Use it as a means to an end, you mean?” you consider, “That's certainly possible. They could just release the Stonecutter and move on, leaving it to carry on doing damage. Less risk for them, if they don't need to stay in one place for too long.”

“Wait, wait, I think I've got something here...” Cloranthy flaps a hand to silence you, squinting at the heavy book laid out before her. “This is talking about a spirit that was sealed away beneath the Sun King's mark – caught in limbo, imprisoned between worlds,” she reads aloud, “Huh. Maybe it was something so bad, they didn't want it escaping back into the spirit world. So they threw it in... I don't know, spirit jail.”

“Spirit jail?”

“Oh, you know what I mean! The point is, they didn't want it causing any more trouble so they stuck it in a cage,” she shakes her head, “But this spirit here, I don't think it's talking about your Stonecutter. It says this seal was in the north. Way up north. So there must be more of these things...”

More sealed spirits, and if they're all like the Stonecutter...

“We need to try and locate as many of these seals as possible. Who knows how much damage it might cause if more of them were broken?” you breath, looking around at Cloranthy with a raised eyebrow, “But it's going to be difficult to find more information on them. If only there was a brilliant, hard working person who knows the archives like the back of their hand...”

“Hmm...” Cloranthy leans forwards, studying your face, “I might know someone. Tell me more about them – especially that brilliant thing you said.”

“We need someone smart and funny and...” you remark, “And just all-round great. Sounds like anyone you know?”

“I'll ask around,” she tells you, giving you a wink.

[2/3]

>>5689920

Between the training with Harriet and the research in the archives, it's getting pretty late in the day. Just as you're heading back to the dorm to get something to eat, you remember the big speech. With everything else that's been going on, you almost forgot it was tonight. Putting a little more haste in your step, you arrive back at the dorm in good time.

The rest of the cohort are still here, although you can tell that Harriet is eager to leave – the grand plaza might be large, but it'll fill up fast once the crowds start moving in. She probably wants to get a good view of the Regent.

“Lucas!” she calls out, hurrying over and giving you a quick hug, “I was wondering where you went!”

“Just a spot of research I needed to do,” you explain, “But one thing led to another, and... well, it all got a bit away from me.”

Johannes lets out a snort of laughter. “We can't leave you alone for a minute, not if there are books involved,” he remarks, “You'd never leave that archive if it wasn't for your stomach.”

You wish he hadn't said that – it only reminded you of how hungry you are. As if on cue, your stomach lets out a low rumble. “Oh, how terrible!” Persephone cries out, smirking ever so slightly, “Sit down before you faint from hunger. I'll tell you what – since I'm in such a good mood today, I'll cook you a nice dinner. How does that sound?”

Terror strikes you. “You were... planning to cook?” you ask, your mouth drying up, “I mean, uh, you're not coming out to see the speech?”

“Absolutely not! Rubbing shoulders with the common masses, just for the dubious privilege of hearing some old man ramble on for goodness knows how long?” she shakes her head, “I politely decline. In fact, I rudely decline as well. I decline in every manner imaginable!”

“But the rest of us were planning on going,” Clarissa points out, gesturing to Johannes and Harriet, “And we should really be leaving soon, if we want to get there before the crowds get too bad. I'm sure we can find some food along the way, if you're really THAT hungry.”

“What she means is, hurry up and make a decision,” Johannes adds, “We're wasting time here.”

Well, when he puts it like that...

>You'll join them and go to the speech
>You'll stay behind at the academy
>Other

>>5689924
>You'll join them and go to the speech
Gotta see the hammer drop in real time.

>>5689924
Spending an evening bantering with Persephone and getting food poisoning honestly sounds very appealing, but...

>You'll join them and go to the speech
This does seem important. Maybe next time.

>>5689924
>You'll join them and go to the speech

“I'm coming, I'm coming. Just let me get my jacket,” you answer quickly, giving Johannes a wave, “This might actually be important, after all. I don't want to be the last one to hear the big news.”

“Ah, so I'll finally have a bit of peace and quiet around here!” Persephone declares, rubbing her hands together with glee, “For a moment there, I was worried that you'd accept my offer!”

“Another time, perhaps,” you reply, “Just let me know the next time you want some peace and quiet, I'll be sure to ruin it for you.”

“I'll hold you to that,” she states, a sly smile on her lips.

-

“Admit it,” Clarissa remarks as you're leaving the academy, “You're just coming with us to get out of dinner.”

“It's not JUST that,” you admit, “I really do think this might be serious, and I don't want to miss it. But, ah, it's also the dinner thing.”

Waiting for Harriet and Johannes to move on ahead, Clarissa allows a slight grimace to cross her face. “It's got to be a declaration of war. I can't think of anything else that might cause the Regent to give a speech like this. I just hope he's serious about it,” she murmurs, “No wasting time with half-measures.”

“Easy now. Let's wait for the speech itself, then decide how screwed we all are,” you urge, “And let's see if we can find a meal first, okay? I haven't eaten since breakfast.”

Tutting softly to herself, Clarissa shakes her head. “You just forgot to eat? Come on, Lucas,” she compains, “There is such a thing as working TOO hard.”

“That's rich, coming from you,” you tell her, “I was speaking with Cloranthy today, in the archives. I think she really missed you while you were gone.”

Clarissa says nothing for a while, then concedes the point with a sigh. “Thank you. For looking out for her,” she whispers, “I'll speak with her later, make sure she's doing okay. It's just... difficult. It's my problem, though. Not yours. Let me handle it. Don't burden yourself any more, okay? Not on my behalf, at least.”

“Hey!” Harriet calls from up ahead, “Stop dawdling, you two!”

-

You make a brief stop in the capital to get something to eat, and then it's straight to the plaza. The place is already filling up when you arrive, the crowd milling about in anticipation. Johannes points to a statue, the raised plinth offering a good view above the rest of the crowds, and you hurry over before another group can take it.

“Hang on,” Harriet points out, “Isn't there some law against climbing on city property?” Johannes stops dead in his tracks, just as he was about to clamber up onto the statue. Harriet looks down and laughs aloud. “I'm just kidding!” she promises him, “Come ON!”

Grumbling to himself, Johannes hauls himself up onto the statue before reaching down to help you up. Just as you're getting settled in, you see movement from the Eternal Palace. There, on the raised balcony, you see soldiers moving.

[1]

>>5689942

The Regent emerges from the depths of the Eternal Palace, walking out onto the balcony and looking out over the crowd. He seems to hesitate, leaning heavily on the railing as if struggling to catch his breath. Even at this distance, you can see how frail he looks – pale and gaunt, looking far older than he must really be. The crowd waits in silence, scarcely even breathing as they await his words.

“People of Marusia,” he begins, his voice carrying across the whole plaza, “Fellow subjects of the Sun King. My friends. I come to you with the news that no leader wishes to bring. I come to you with grave news from the west, from our sacred city of Ixtab. For centuries, Ixtab has been the heart of our faith – the site in which the Sun King himself descended to grant us his favour.”

“Which makes this news all the harder to bear,” the Regent pauses, “Our westerly neighbours in the Reivian Empire have attacked positions surrounding the city of Ixtab, killing the brave defenders stationed there. Worse still, they gather their armies near the border and proclaim their ambitions – they would claim Ixtab for themselves, and press that claim with strength of arms.”

Another pause, broken only by a few moans of dismay heard throughout the crowd.

“We are better than this,” the Regent laments, “And they should be better than this. I cannot know what evil thoughts have taken root in the Reive Dynasty, but this is their result. Know that we will not let Ixtab slip into their grasp. Know that we will not surrender one inch of our territory to their ambitions. For centuries, men have looked to the sun and wished for salvation – know, then, that the Sun King will answer our prayers.”

“I know that there will be many difficult days ahead of us. I ask that you stand firm against all fear, all doubt and all indecision. When the nation calls, I ask that you answer it with love and hope in your hearts. If we stand united, I have no doubt that we will prevail. My friends, I ask that you remember one thing – Ixtab stands, and it will stand for as long as one single man still serves the Sun King.”

He pauses again, then swallows heavily and takes a step back from the balcony.

“Ixtab stands!” the Regent shouts, his words repeated by countless voices in the crowd as he vanishes back inside the palace.

-

“That's IT?” Clarissa snarls, her hands clenching into fists in her lap, “That's all he's going to say?”

“I liked it,” Harriet murmurs, trying to put on a brave face even as she senses the ugly mood, “I liked the part where he said “Ixtab stands”. I thought it was... cool.”

“I suppose we're not going to war after all,” you remark, although you're not quite sure how to feel about that.

“Not yet,” Clarissa mutters.

>I think I'm going to take a break here for today, to pick up tomorrow
>Thank you for reading along today!

>>5689959
Thanks for running!

>>5689959
Appreciated, QM!

>>5689959
What are they even looking for in Ixtab? A super spirit sealed away?

File: Clarissa Lowe.png (556 KB, 913x813)

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The overwhelming mood in the crowd is that of confusion, of uncertainty. Some people are waiting around to see if anything else is going to happen, to see if the Regent is going to come back and continue his speech. Others are already leaving, their expressions numb and blank. You wait, sitting atop the statue plinth, for the way ahead to become clear.

Nobody speaks. Johannes frowns, his jaw set hard as if thinking over some complicated problem. Clarissa just stares up at the sky, her short hair stirring in the breeze. Harriet glances fearfully around her, not quite reading the mood but obviously worried. Every time you catch a whisper of conversation from the crowd, the word “war” can be heard.

“He looked awfully tired, don't you think?” Harriet says eventually, nodding faintly towards the balcony, “Being the Regent must be hard work. I never thought it would be that hard. I hope he's not ill...”

“He'll have the best doctors in the land looking after him if he is,” Johannes rumbles, “I don't think he has anything to worry about.”

“Well maybe not, but still...” Harriet insists, “If he really did get sick, we'd be left without a leader. And at a time like this!”

“That might not be such a bad thing,” Clarissa murmurs, “If the Regent wasn't fit to serve, we might get someone else in charge. Someone who actually knows what they're doing.”

These words are met by a startled silence. “I can't believe you actually WANT us to go to war!” Harriet protests, “That's a terrible thing to say!”

“We're going to war, whether we like it or not!” she hisses back, pointing at Harriet for emphasis, “But right now, we're just sitting back and letting the Reivians take us into a war of THEIR choosing. Are we supposed to wait until they have their hands around our throat before we take any action? Is that what you're saying?”

“Well, no, but...” Harriet falls silent, looking around for support.

Johannes is the first one to speak. “There's no sense in arguing about it,” he decides, “The Regent will have people advising him – people who know a lot more about these matters than any of us. He'll have a good reason for this, I'm sure of it. You just need to trust him, Clarissa. Even if you can't do that, there's no sense in taking it out on Harriet.”

“I'm not taking anything...” Clarissa stops herself with an angry sigh, “I just don't understand how you can be so damn CALM about this.”

“Because I can't do anything to change it. Not now, not yet,” he answers simply, “Right now, you're just getting worked up over nothing. Focus on the things you CAN change.”

Clarissa considers this, tilting her head slightly to the side as she thinks. She seems to think for a long moment before frowning. But whatever she's thinking, she keeps it to herself.

[1/2]

>>5690547

“Anyway, it's still a nice night and the capital looks really pretty like this,” Harriet declares, forcing a smile as she gestures around at the plaza, “So I'm still glad we came out tonight. We should make the most of it, have a little fun while we're out! We could do something like, um... What kind of fun things do people do in the capital?”

“You're asking the wrong people for that,” Johannes tells her, “When do we ever do anything fun?”

“I remember having fun once,” you agree, “Master Brehm had us on punishment details for two weeks – scrubbing floors every night, on top of all the usual chores and lessons. It's not an experience I'm eager to repeat.”

“But you're all qualified now, right?” Harriet argues, “So it's okay for you to be out all night, isn't it?”

“Quite right. It's okay for US,” Johannes confirms, “So you'd better go back to the academy and leave us to it.”

Harriet lets out a low moan of dismay before, eventually, she realises that he's joking and the optimistic smile returns. “So I just need one of you to accompany me and it's all okay, right?” she decides, “That's great news! So where are we going?”

That's... not exactly what he was saying.

“The rooftop gardens,” Clarissa says suddenly, barely looking around at Harriet. “That's the trendy thing at the moment,” she continues, “Especially on nice nights like this. People gather in the rooftop gardens, over in the ivy district especially, and drink wine together. It's very popular, I've heard. I think you'd enjoy it.”

“That does sound like fun!” Harriet agrees, nodding eagerly, “How about it?”

“Sorry, but I'll pass. It's just not my kind of thing,” Clarissa replies, “I was thinking of going home, actually.”

“You're right,” Johannes says with a shrug, “Joking aside, we should probably be heading back to the academy. Make sure Persephone hasn't burned the whole place down, at least.”

Clarissa shakes her head. “I mean HOME home,” she explains, “I grew up not so far from here, but I haven't been home in years. I suppose I never had much reason to, even when I could spare the time. But now, I think I ought to pay a visit.”

Because she might not get another chance, the sad look in her eyes seems to say. Everyone else can see the same thing you can, and the conversation comes to a cold end. In the stillness that follows, Johannes looks back out over the crowd and grunts in faint approval.

“Crowd's thinned out,” he announces, “Enough that we can get down without landing on anyone's head, at least.”

“Great! I've been sitting here so long, my backside's gone numb,” Harriet says with a laugh, getting ready to hop down, “So Lucas, what do you think? What's your plan?”

>I just want to head back to the academy
>We can go and see these rooftop gardens, if you want
>I'd like to see your home, Clarissa, if that's okay
>Other

>>5690549
>I'd like to see your home, Clarissa, if that's okay

>>5690549
>I'd like to see your home, Clarissa, if that's okay
She might need the authority of an Exorcist.

...do the seals use up the Sun King's power?

>>5690549
>I just want to head back to the academy

All of a sudden, it seems like there are an awful lot of expectant eyes on you. You take the opportunity to escape by climbing down from the statue, standing back as the others drop down after you. “Well, ah, I was just thinking that I'd like to see your home, Clarissa,” you begin, once she's clambered down too, “If that's okay with you, I mean.”

The idea seems to take her aback, her eyes widening slightly before she nods. “That's... fine. Actually, I'd like that,” she replies, then quickly adds, “I wouldn't expect too much, mind you. It's really nothing special.”

“Well, that settles it then,” Harriet decides, turning to poke Johannes in the chest, “That means you HAVE to take me out!”

“I don't quite see the logic,” he says with a sigh, “But fine. Nothing too wild though, do you understand?”

He's probably realised that it's easier to just go along with it. Harriet doesn't seem to mind, though, eagerly clapping her hands together before linking arms with him and pulling him away. Johannes has enough time to cast a weary glance back at you before he vanishes into the diminishing crowd.

“Good luck!” Clarissa calls after them both.

-

The military distract isn't far from the grand plaza, and the Eternal Palace itself, which means that the houses are all suitably grand. Each manor, you assume, belongs to some high ranking officer or official – just another perk of the job. The Lowe manor has the air of a house long-abandoned, with no light in the window and no signs of life. But Clarissa seems to have expected nothing less, unlocking the front door and letting herself in without hesitation.

There's something uncanny about seeing this place in real life, rather than the distorted memory you caught a glimpse of at the monastery. It looks the same, but the proportions seem ever so slightly different. Before, you realise, it was as a child saw it. “Mother isn't home,” Clarissa mentions idly, gesturing towards the stairs, “She's probably still working. I remember when I was younger, there were times when she wouldn't come home for days at a time.”

“That's tough,” you reply, for want of something to say. With no sign that she heard you, Clarissa guides you into her bedroom and lights a gas lantern. It feels strange, just marching into her private chambers like this, but she doesn't seem to notice – or care – about the breach of protocol.

“I got used to it,” she says eventually, looking around at her room as if seeing it for the first time. It's neat, tidy, and empty. A cadet's training rifle hangs on one wall above a family portrait. Her father is a blunt, harsh looking figure, while her mother seems to be made entirely from sharp edges. Clarissa herself has been painted with an adult's peaked cap on, the oversized hat covering half her face. Cloranthy, though, is notably absent from the portrait.

[1]

>>5690558

“So tell me something,” you begin, “Was there a time when you DIDN'T dream about being a soldier?”

“Give me a break, okay?” Clarissa replies, a tiny hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth, “That's all anyone ever talked about when I was growing up. I barely knew there was a world outside the army, listening to my parents talk.”

Somehow, that doesn't surprise you. “What about your mother?” you ask, “Didn't she have something else to talk about?”

“Not really. She's part of the bureaucracy, but she mostly deals with military supplies,” the smile grows a little, “That's actually how they met, a furious argument over ammunition supplies.”

“I see,” a pause, “How... romantic.”

Finally, Clarissa allows herself to laugh. “Oh really?” she counters, “Is that an official verdict from Lucas Hearne, master of romance?”

“It is,” you insist, holding firm, “Arguments over ammunition are no good. Now, if it was an argument over food supplies or uniforms, well that would be different!”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she decides, turning away from the portrait to study an old bookshelf. As she looks through her old books, you take another look around the room. There isn't much to look at, but your eyes are drawn to a large map pinned up on the wall. The colours have faded over time, but you can still make out faint charcoal marks drawn here and there. When Clarissa notices your gaze, she lets out a soft sigh.

“I always wanted to travel when I was a kid,” she explains, tracing her fingers across the map, “Father would tell me about all the places he'd seen, and I'd want nothing more than to see them for myself. The world always seems like such an exciting place when you can't go out and explore it, don't you think?”

You can remember listening to the stories traders told when they came to your village – stories about the cities, usually. You'd listened to them with a mix of fascination and disbelief, struggling to imagine so many people living in such a small space. But that was then, and this is now.

“Why didn't you?” you ask, “Travel, I mean.”

“It just wasn't... possible. Cloranthy couldn't travel much, and it felt unfair for me to go out and leave her here. Just once, I went out to Ixtab to visit father. I was so excited then, and I told Cloranthy all about it when I got back,” Clarissa recalls, a faint pain ghosting across her face at the memory, “And I never realised how much it must have been hurting her to hear it.”

“It's not your fault,” you tell her, “Kids can be...” But your voices trails off here, as you struggle to find the right words.

“Dumb?” Clarissa offers after a long pause.

“Dumb. Right,” you sigh, “That's exactly what I was going to say.”

“You're getting predictable, Lucas,” she scolds softly, “Better watch out for that.”

[2/3]

>>5690573

After that, Clarissa takes you on a short and mostly silent tour of the manor. You drift through the empty corridors like spirits, occasionally pausing to look at some portrait or another before moving on. You finally end up in a large hall, the painted image of the Sun King glaring down from the high ceiling above. A ballroom, you suppose. It wouldn't be a high society manor without one. But without a crowd, the place feels more like an ornate tomb.

Why here, you wonder, why bring you here of all places?

“Johannes is right,” Clarissa announces suddenly, “There's no point in getting worked up over something we can't do anything about. Better to focus on the things we can change. We're Exorcists – we should stick to Exorcist business.”

“Quite right,” you agree, although you're not entirely convinced by her sudden change of stance. More likely, she's just reaching out for whatever distractions she can. Anything other than dwelling on her own helplessness. “I've been working on something lately,” you explain, “It might be something big. Cloranthy's been helping me with the research, actually.”

“Oh really?” she replies, giving you a sceptical look, “I hope this research isn't just an excuse for you to bother my sister.”

“Hey, I'm entirely innocent here. I'll have you know that she's the one who keeps stalking ME,” you point out, “Every time I visit the archives, she's usually there watching me.”

“Ah. I see. I knew she was interested in you, but...” Clarissa pauses, the quickly corrects herself, “Interested in you because of the Forest Kingdom connection, I mean. But you knew what I meant, didn't you?”

“I don't know. She's barely mentioned that lately,” you remark, “Maybe it's just my winning personality that she likes.”

“Well obviously. I thought that went without saying,” she agrees with another faint smile, “I'm glad you've been keeping her company. Believe it or not, she doesn't actually get out to meet people very much.”

>I'll make sure to keep an eye on her
>She needs her sister, not someone like me
>We could always use an extra pair of hands, you know
>Other

>>5690590
>We could always use an extra pair of hands, you know
She misses you and it *is* exorcist business.

>>5690590
>She needs her sister, not someone like me

>>5690549
Harriet is a really Polyanna-type, isn't she?

>>5690590
>I'll make sure to keep an eye on her
>I... Think she has a crush on me

>>5690590
>She needs her sister, not someone like me

>>5690590
>We could always use an extra pair of hands, you know

“I believe it,” you reply, wincing at the grim tone in your voice. That wasn't... quite what you had been meaning to say. “But really, she needs her sister around,” you add quickly, “Not someone like me.”

“And what IS someone like you, exactly?” Clarissa wonders aloud, “A troublemaker? Or something worse than that?”

“You're avoiding the point,” you insist, “She missed you while you were gone. You should be catching up with her, not making slanderous implications about me.”

She smiles a little at this, as if she'd quite happily spend all day doing that, but the smile doesn't last. “It's not always... easy. I love her, of course. I care about her more than anything else in the world, really. But it's not always easy for me to face her,” she admits, “Sometimes, I just don't know what to say to her.”

“Try talking business,” you recommend, “You know, we could always use an extra pair of hands. There's a lot of books we need to read through, and even she can only take them one at a time. I think it would be good – for all of us. It's Exorcist business, after all. Just think of it as working overtime.”

“Well, when you put it like that...” Clarissa concedes, tilting her head as she accepts the point, “I'll check in at the archives first thing tomorrow, bright and early, and I'll expect to see you there too. Understood?”

You just played yourself into a corner there. “I'm not sure if I do understand, actually. What is this “bright and early” that you speak of?” you ask, before shrugging and sighing, “I'll be there. Besides, it might be best if you're there to keep an eye on things. I think Cloranthy might be, ah, interested in me. If you know what I mean.”

Maybe you're imagining things, but Clarissa's cheeks seem to darken slightly. “The Forest Kingdom thing,” she reminds you, “We've been over this.”

“No, I think it's... oh, never mind,” you sigh, “I'll be there. Bright and early.”

-

Bright and early might be stretching it, but you do manage to wake up earlier than normal. Mostly because of your dreams – you don't remember much of them, except for the painted Sun King from Clarissa's ballroom that had been looming over everything. You don't know why, but the image had been somehow terrifying...

Breakfast is rushed, and mostly silent. Harriet hasn't left her dorm yet and Johannes looks so grim that you don't even attempt a conversation. Whatever they got up to last night, it certainly wasn't in moderation. While there's a part of you that wants to stay and wait for Persephone to start causing trouble, you can sense a real risk of physical harm there. Better for everyone involved if you make yourself scarce.

Better for you, at least, and that's the important part.

[1]

>>5690622

There's already a good stack of books waiting for you when you arrive at the archives, with the Lowe sisters busy with a hushed discussion. You linger behind a bookshelf for a moment and try to listen in, but you can't catch much. A few names, perhaps, but none that you recognise. Other members of Cloranthy's cohort, maybe. Eventually, you abandon your attempts at eavesdropping and casually approach them.

“Hey there. I was wondering when you were going to join us,” Cloranthy begins, her eyes lighting up at the sight of you, “I thought you were going to wait there all day.”

“Wait where?” you counter, feigning innocence for all you're worth, “I just got here.”

Cloranthy grins, seeing through your obvious lie. “Guess I was wrong,” she replies, “I thought I heard someone lurking about. But you know what this place is like – all kinds of funny noises around here.”

“Well anyway, that's hardly important,” you insist, hurriedly taking a seat and looking over the piles of books, “What are we looking at?”

“I... that is, my contact was able to find a few things,” Cloranthy begins, picking one particular book and passing it across to you. “Turns out that sun symbols are a pretty common thing for people to carve on stuff. But if you really narrow your search down... well, they're still pretty common,” she admits, shrugging her shoulders, “Have I mentioned how much hard work this involves? Because it's a lot.”

“Hard work is good for the soul,” Clarissa points out, not even looking up from her book, “Besides, dedication to a noble cause is very attractive. Men love that sort of thing, don't they?”

What are you even supposed to say to a thing like that?

“Er, it's certainly on the list,” you agree, “Anyway, let's not get distracted. So these seals, you think they might be quite common?”

“Not the seals. Just sun stuff in general. Makes it hard to pick out the important bits,” Cloranthy explains, “But what I've been doing is looking for notable carvings, then checking local histories to see if anything crazy happened in that area. See, if these seals really ARE hiding away some really bad spirits, I figure they would've caused some trouble back in the day – the kind of trouble that people remember for a long time.”

Clarissa nods, a note of pride showing on her face. “And we might have something,” she tells you, nodding to the book, “Take a look.”

You skim the passage she indicates, then go back and read it again – slower this time. It describes a spirit – a “perversion of Sheol” - that was known to spread sickness and death across the land until, eventually, it was cast out. Cast into a prison made in the Sun King's image, to be exact. That doesn't just sound close, that sounds exactly what you're looking for.

“That's what I thought too,” Clarissa agrees, just from the expression on your face.

[2/3]

>>5690657
That sounds like we need a bigger gun AND sword.

and maybe a gas mask.

>>5690657

“So I'm going to assume this spirit is still sealed away. I think we'd all notice something belching out sickness and death,” you state, “And I'll pause a moment so you can think of your own jokes about Persephone's cooking.”

“Much appreciated,” Clarissa says with a nod, leaning across to whisper to her sister, “Persephone can't cook. That's the joke.”

“Oh right,” Cloranthy whispers back, “Thank you for explaining that, because I really couldn't, you know, figure that out for myself.”

Clearing your throat, you step in before the inevitable sibling bickering can get out of control. “My point is, we're not in any kind of crisis situation if we assume this spirit is still sealed away. It could also give us a chance to study these seals themselves – an intact version, I mean,” you explain, “Do you know where this seal is?”

“The spirit emerged in a village called, uh, Cremina,” Cloranthy answers, checking her notes, “But there isn't much left of the village itself, it says here, and this book was written years ago. Probably even less to find now. Let me guess, is this the part where you say you really want to go and play around with the horrible plague spirit?”

“That's not exactly how I'd put it,” you remark, “But it might be wise for someone to keep an eye on it. Just in case. I think we-”

“Because I want to come with you,” the younger girl adds, her voice unusually blunt. She stares at you, then at Clarissa, daring either of you to object.

Clarissa, of course, rises to the challenge. “Absolutely not. Out of the question,” she answers immediately, “You can't ride a horse, for one thing, let alone hike through all kinds of wilderness. This isn't just a stroll down a corridor, you know – there might not even be a dirt path left if this village has been abandoned for so long. It's just not practical, never mind the danger.”

“He said it was all still sealed away,” Cloranthy counters, jerking her head at you, “So where's the danger?”

“We THINK it's still sealed away,” you point out, “We don't know that for certain yet.”

“So I can't ride a horse. Fine – you can ride, and I'll hang along behind you. I can walk fine enough, just... just don't expect me to go skipping uphill,” the younger girl continues doggedly, “I can DO this. I'm the one who found this, I... I deserve to have this!”

“I know that! And I wish...” Clarissa grimaces, “And I wish you could come along with us. I wish it was that easy, I really do.”

Cloranthy looks back to you, her jaw set with anger. But her eyes are pleading.

>Clarissa's right. I'm sorry, but it just won't work
>Cloranthy should come. We'll make it work somehow
>We don't even need to go. We could just report it, and that'll be the end of it
>Other

>>5690695
>Cloranthy should come. We'll make it work somehow
This could backfire admittedly, but I think it'll be good for her.

>>5690695
>>Cloranthy should come. We'll make it work somehow

>>5690695
>Cloranthy should come. We'll make it work somehow
She can stay in our lodgings when we're going somewhere especially strenuous or dangerous, and be our backup/support. But... She's probably dreamed of traveling, too, right? And her mind is pretty damn keen. She'll be useful as a field researcher, if not a footsoldier.

And she cute, even if I'm Team Persephone

>>5690695
>Cloranthy should come. We'll make it work somehow
But she's unlikely to be able to literally see the seal. The last one was in a hole in the ground.

“I think Cloranthy should come with us,” you decide, “I know there are going to be... challenges, but we'll make it work somehow.”

“Yes!” Cloranthy hisses, pumping a fist in glee. Clarissa grimaces, but otherwise says nothing. “You won't regret this,” the younger girl adds eagerly, “I'll be the best field... work... uh, person that you've ever seen. There's a word for that, right?”

“Exorcist, I think,” you suggest, “But listen, you need to be careful. Don't go getting in over your head, and if things really do get dangerous... just leave it to us. Find somewhere safe to hide, and wait for it to blow over. Understand?”

“I'll get a gun, right? You can't do field work without a gun. Oh, and a SWORD!” she continues, as if you said nothing at all.

Clarissa just shakes her head in dismay. “It doesn't matter, actually,” she thinks after a moment, “We'll need to get Master Rosenthal's permission to take her out on an investigation, and there's no way that we'll allow it. Just wait, he'll put an end to this folly.”

-

“I think it's a wonderful idea!” Master Rosenthal decides, giving you a firm nod, “It'll be good to see Miss Lowe getting out of the archives for a while, and I'm sure she'll learn a lot from you both. Just make sure you bring her back in one piece, won't you? Although I'm sure that you don't need me to tell you that. I'll take care of the paperwork, so just run along now!”

“That was easy,” Cloranthy murmurs as you're leaving the office, with Clarissa quietly seething beside you. You're a little suspicious about just how easy it was, but perhaps you're just being paranoid. Then again, Master Rosenthal has always seemed a little too eager to get on your good side. Perhaps he's just being helpful, or perhaps it's something more than that.

Have to keep an eye on that one, you decide. Cloranthy seems oblivious to your thoughts, happily wandering down the corridor with a slow click of her walking stick. Clarissa watches her limping on ahead, then gives you a faint scowl. “Are you sure about this?” she asks quietly, “I mean, have you really thought this through?”

“Probably not as much as I should have,” you admit, “But I think this is right. She's got a keen mind, your sister. I think she'll make a fine field researcher, even if she's never a footsoldier. You should have more faith in her.”

“It's not that I doubt her mind. I just don't want to see her get hurt,” Clarissa murmurs, “If she has a fall or gets a few scrapes, that's fine. But if this goes badly, it might really ruin her confidence. She might never leave the archives again.”

“But she's got to start somewhere,” you point out, “This might be her best chance. Come on, it'll be fine – what could go wrong?”

“You've done it now. We're all doomed,” she sighs, “Well, we might as well get it over with.”

[1]

>>5690738

You're not sure what might be left of the village, so you pack some extra supplies for camping on the back of your horse. Cloranthy rides with her sister, sitting side-saddle on the horse and clutching tightly to the older girl. As you ride together, you occasionally catch a glimpse of skin as her long skirt rides up – her legs are very thin, very pale, and banded with metal braces.

Hurriedly looking away, you fix your gaze straight ahead and watch the road before you. At least, you try to. After a few moments, you find yourself glancing back. When you do, you see Cloranthy staring straight back at you – a sly, secretive grin on her face.

“What do you think of Master Rosenthal?” you ask, just for the sake of a distraction, “As an instructor, I mean.”

“He's nice. He doesn't push us too hard or anything, pretty much just lets us take things at our own pace. Doesn't mind if I just spend all day reading crap stories instead of working,” she answers, “So I'm probably nowhere near qualified for field work. But hey, that's why you're here.”

“And the rest of your cohort?” you continue, “Are they... nice?”

Cloranthy just shrugs, the gesture causing Clarissa to wobble precariously in the saddle. “Fine, I guess. I even talk to them sometimes, when I can't get out of it,” she offers, although she couldn't care less about them by the sounds of it. The conversation seems to have ended there, only for her to suddenly speak up again. “There's this one girl, though, and she cannot – literally cannot – stop flirting with one of the guys, but he's so oblivious,” she recalls, “How lame is that, huh?”

Clarissa coughs, or maybe covers up a laugh. “Imagine that,” she mutters aloud.

-

Riding for most of the day, you follow the main road for a while before breaking off down a series of increasingly precarious dirt trails. It's never dangerous, but you can tell that the rough ground is starting to get Cloranthy spooked. She clings even tighter to her sister, tight enough that Clarissa's face sometimes tightens with pain – although naturally, she never says a word about it.

After circling around a dense cluster of trees, you spot the faint remnants of buildings from up ahead – barely more than a few scattered stones in places. Taking that as a sign that you're getting close, you urge a little more haste and gallop on ahead. Clarissa follows, but keeps her horse moving slowly and carefully.

Stopping at the far edge of the desolate village, you take a long look around at your surroundings. The whole region seems... pale. The grass is withered and lifeless, while the dirt is loose and thin. Little wonder that the place was abandoned – it would be folly to try and grow anything in this lifeless place. That settles it then. This MUST be the right place.

[2/3]

>>5690767

There isn't much left of the village, but you decide to set up camp in the most intact remains you can find. A larger building, maybe a tavern once, the remains look like they were burned at one point – maybe for fear of some lingering contagion. Whatever happened, it left just enough shelter to protect against a sudden burst of rain over the night.

Before the last of the daylight can fade, you quickly lay out bedrolls and make camp with Clarissa's help. She works with quick, efficient movements, the kind that only come from experience. “Good work,” you murmur to her, “Get up to much camping in the capital, did you?”

“Just in the back garden,” she admits, sounding faintly embarrassed, “I remember spending a whole week sleeping outside once, just because father told me about a training exercise his men were on. Anything they could do, I could do too. That's what I said, at least. I got pretty good at making camp, but I drew the line at... ah...”

“Let me guess,” you reply, “You never got around to digging the latrine?”

“Exactly,” she mumbles, “Well, um, can you blame me? I can't imagine the neighbours wanted to see me... Actually, can we talk about something else? Maybe-”

“Are you guys talking about pissing?” Cloranthy calls out, leaning through the ruined doorway, “Just go into the woods and do it, you don't need to tell the whole world!”

Mortified, Clarissa buries her face in her hands as if pretending that the whole conversation wasn't happening.

-

Later, as Clarissa sleeps in the makeshift camp, you sit underneath the spreading starlight and wait. You're not quite meditating, simply letting the ambience wash over you. Listening to the land, as Master Brehm puts it. The land isn't saying much at the moment, but even the silence is meaningful. This whole place is just completely... dead.

A faint shuffling sound from behind you lets you know that you've got company. Cloranthy all but collapses down beside you, her weak legs giving out before she can properly sit. She waves away your concern before you can speak, so you hold your tongue.

“Nice out here, isn't it?” she murmurs, looking up at the stars, “I can't remember the last time I properly looked up at the stars like this.”

“Not even out a window?”

“That doesn't count,” she explains, “Obviously.”

Obviously.

“Your guys. Your cohort,” Cloranthy says after a pause, “Tell me about them.”

“Huh?” you glance around at her, “What do you want to know?”

“I don't know. Just about them. What kind of people are they? Whatever comes to mind,” she makes a vague gesture, “I'm curious, okay? About this whole “people” thing. Humour me, will you?”

The cohort. Where to even start?

>Persephone is...
>Johannes is...
>Harriet is...
>Other

>>5690810
>Persephone is...

>>5690810
>Persephone is...
>Other
I'd like to add a 'Nicholas was...' to the list if we end up chatting about everyone.

>>5690810
>Persephone is...

>>5690810
>johannes

>>5690816
Also this, curious how were feeling about his loss, especially after the last thread

“Well, let's see. Persephone is... I think you might have met her actually,” you recall, “You were looking for me one day, when I was on a mission. White hair, kind of a...”

“Kind of a bad attitude? Yeah, I remember her,” Cloranthy pulls a face, “She told me to go away. Actually, she told me to “take a walk” if you want, like, her exact words.”

“That sounds like her, yes,” you sigh, “She can be very abrasive, especially around new people. But once you get to know her, she isn't so bad. We were on a mission together recently, a pretty bad situation, and she really pulled her weight.”

Cloranthy lets out a quiet snort of laughter. “So let me guess,” she muses, “This is where you're about to say she's really nice and sensitive deep down. A real heart of gold. She just acts tough because she's afraid of getting close to people, and it's easier to push them away.”

“No. I just think she can be kind of a jerk. But despite it all, I like being around her,” you pause, wondering about that. It's true, you realise, although it's not something you can put into words. “Anyway, it's your turn,” you add, “What about that girl you mentioned?”

“Fia? She's okay, I guess. Nice enough to me, but only because she doesn't think I'm a threat. Real territorial when it comes to the guys. She's smart, but she doesn't like book learning – actually TALKS to people. Yuck!” Cloranthy sticks out her tongue, “But aside from her constantly thirsting after boys, I don't know what to tell you. Your turn!”

It almost feels like a strange sort of game, taking turns like this. “Johannes is the other guy in the cohort. Well, he is now. After...” you hesitate, not quite ready to go THERE yet. “He's very serious. Very reliable,” you continue after a moment, “We didn't get along much at first, but I've think we've come to an agreement. Mutual respect, I guess. I'm amazed that he puts up with us some of the time, but he must like it. That, or moving would be too much effort. It feels like he's always bickering with Persephone.”

“That means she likes him,” she decides immediately, “I bet that's it. In fact, I'll put money on it right now. Just, er, you'll need to lend me some money first. I left my purse back at the academy.”

“It's not like that!” you insist, faintly wondering why the idea bothers you so much, “It's really... nothing like that. Trust me.”

“Hmm,” Cloranthy gives you a dubious look, “Protesting a little too much there, buddy. Don't get carried away.”

“I'm not getting carried away. I'm entirely calm. Look at how calm I am,” you tell her, making sure that you've got a very serious expression on your face, “You're up next, your turn. The guy next, the oblivious one you mentioned before.”

“Well, you see, his name is Lucas and...” Cloranthy stops short, laughing at the scowl on your face, “Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Don't throw a tantrum!”

[1/2]

>>5690856

“Anyway, his name is Ellis and he's... well, I suppose he's handsome. Got a face like an army recruitment posted – all bright blue eyes and a strong chin. I guess some girls like that kind of thing, I dunno,” Cloranthy shrugs, “I guess I'd call him a good person. He's always trying to do the right thing and help other people, even when it lands him with all the hard work. He doesn't even complain about it or anything!”

“Amazing,” you murmur. You've never met the man, and yet somehow you find yourself disliking him.

A silence falls over you both. For a moment, all you do is watch as the clouds slowly drift through the starlit sky. Then, eventually, Cloranthy speaks. “Tell me about him,” she asks, “The other guy. The one you don't want to talk about.”

“You know I don't want to talk about him, but you're still asking?” you reply, looking around to see if she's serious.

“I mean, you don't have to. I'm not going to freak out if you don't,” she says with a shrug, “But sometimes it's better to talk about it. Even if maybe you don't want to.”

She's got you there. “So, his name was Nicholas. He was the first person I really met when I came to the academy. The first friend I made here, I suppose. I remember that even then, he always seemed worried about something. Anxious, even when there was nothing going on. But he was always willing to help out with studying, any time I got stuck on something, and he never asked anything in return,” you pause, “But I guess I never really offered to help him much either, now that I think about it. It never occurred to me that he might need help.”

“He died,” you add simply, “And for basically no reason. He went looking for answers, but there was never any chance of finding them. Sometimes I think he knew that, but he went searching anyway. It was something he had to do.”

Cloranthy is silent for a long moment. “I've never actually... lost anyone,” she admits softly, “I don't know what I'd do if I did. How I'd feel.”

“Nobody does. It's the strangest thing. I'll be living life like normal, and then I'll think that he should be here. Or I'll wonder what he'd say about something. He would have loved all this research stuff we've been doing,” you sigh, “But that doesn't matter now, does it?”

This question goes unanswered. Cloranthy doesn't say anything, merely letting her head rest on your shoulder as you watch the clouds drift by.

>I'm going to pause things here for today. I've got some extra time next week, so I'm aiming to continue this next Friday
>Thank you for reading along today!

>>5690876
Thanks for running, QM!

>>5690876
Thanks for running!

File: Cloranthy Lowe.png (526 KB, 1200x764)

526 KB PNG

For the first time in a long while, you dream of fire. You dream of a village in flames, buildings barricaded shut and set aflame with their screaming inhabitants sealed within. The flames leap high into the sky, casting up great pillars of smoke that blot out the light of the stars. Stand there, amidst the fire, you feel the twin horrors of pain and certainty – however terrible it might be, this is the only way.

The sun is already getting high in the sky when you wake up, a steady warmth filling the air. Like a distant echo of your dream, you can hear the faint crackle of a fire from outside your makeshift shelter. Rubbing grit from your eyes, you emerge to see Clarissa preparing a meal over a lively campfire. Crumbling trail biscuits into water to make a simple porridge, she glances briefly up at you before returning to the pot.

“Bad dreams?” you ask, noting the shadows around her eyes.

“About normal, really,” Clarissa replies vaguely, prodding at the porridge with a long spook.

“About normal, really,” you repeat back to her, “And normal is...?”

There's a pause. “Well, it's not fantastic,” she admits after a while, “But not abnormally bad, in either case. I just wanted to get an early start, take a look around now that we've got some daylight to work with. There's more here than I first thought.”

It's not exactly the most elegant way to change the subject, but you suppose it works. “Find anything interest?” you ask, playing along for now.

“Some more remains, more intact than the ones around here. Over there,” Clarissa explains, pointing down to the treeline, “You can't see much from here, with the trees blocking it from sight, but it might have been a temple. I didn't get too close of a look, though, not on my own. It's probably best if we stick together from now on.”

Why does she say that as if you were the one who went wandering off?

“Why are you saying that like he was the one who went wandering off?” Cloranthy asks, limping out of the shelter and collapsing down in front of the fire, “You made enough noise to wake the dead this morning, stomping about with your big heavy boots on.”

“Right. Just impossible to sleep through,” you agree, managing to keep a straight face as you nod.

Clarissa just pretends not to notice, busying herself with serving out three bowls of the thick porridge. “I remember when you were learning to cook. You were so awful at first, and you always got me to taste test for you!” Cloranthy continues, flashing you a wicked grin as she takes one of the bowls, “Remember that? Remember when you burned that bacon so badly that the whole pan was ruined?”

“I remember,” Clarissa mutters through gritted teeth, “You're always so keen to remind me, after all.”

“It was a good pan, too,” the younger girl whispers to you, her voice just loud enough for her sister to hear.

[1/2]

>>5694379

When breakfast is over, and Cloranthy has grown tired of tormenting her sister, you start out exploring the town. Even after a relatively short walk through the ruined down, though, you can tell that Cloranthy is struggling – she never says anything, but her face has a ghastly pallor and her steps drag more than ever.

Then, as you're crossing a flat plain, she falls. Clarissa is there immediately, reaching down to help the younger girl up, but Cloranthy bats the hand away. “It's here!” she rasps, looking up at you with wide eyes, “I'm telling you, it's here!”

“What's here?” Clarissa asks, trying again to help her sister up. Wriggling free, Cloranthy starts to attack the loose soil with her bare hands. She claws at the dry, withered grass and throws aside handfuls of the dusty soil with such an intensity that Clarissa draws back in alarm. After struggling for a few seconds more, Cloranthy looks back up at you.

“There's something down here, I can FEEL it,” she insists, “Just give me a hand here, will you?”

Clarissa hesitates, then kneels down to help with digging through the dirt. You join them, attacking the lifeless soil until your fingers scrape against something more solid. You all freeze, then the girls watch as you carefully brush away the last layer of dirt. At the bottom of your newly dug hole, you see the dull grey of basalt – with a deep fissure carved into the stone.

“That's it,” Cloranthy states bluntly, reaching down and running her fingers along the curved carving, “This must be the seal. They must have buried it here, and-”

“And maybe we should leave it buried,” Clarissa interrupts, “The more I think about it, the more I feel like we just... shouldn't be here. Think about it – they never said ANYTHING about these seals, not in any of our lessons. I think they wanted these things to be forgotten. We know it's buried, we know nobody's been tampering with it, isn't that enough?”

“We DON'T know that!” Cloranthy argues, “Look, this is just barely a glimpse at the whole seal – we don't know that it hasn't been damaged, or it's wearing away, or... or any number of other things!”

These last words, shouted out in a raw, ragged voice, even seem to take Cloranthy herself by surprise. She hesitates, panting for breath, before shaking her head. “I just want to do something, you know?” she mutters, “We only just got here, only just found this, and now you want us to leave? It's not fair...”

“Maybe not,” Clarissa admits, her voice soft, “But it's safer this way. For all of us.”

Then she glances around at you, silently imploring you for support.

>Clarissa's right. You've seen enough here, you can leave
>Cloranthy's right. You should unearth the whole seal
>Perhaps you could compromise and investigate the ruined temple instead
>Other

>>5694382
>>Perhaps you could compromise and investigate the ruined temple instead

Almost forgot there was a session today

>>5694382
>Perhaps you could compromise and investigate the ruined temple instead

whoo surprise run
I was surprised at least, busy week

>>5694382
>Cloranthy's right. You should unearth the whole seal
We'll just rebury it right after.

>>5694382
>Cloranthy's right. You should unearth the whole seal
You realize that if you're right and something's wrong, we have to go back FASTER than we took coming here, right?

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>I think, for the sake of moving forwards, I'm just going to roll off to break the tied vote.
>1 = going with the ruined temple
>2 = staying to unearth the seal

“I think Cloranthy's right,” you decide, looking down at the rough hole, “We need to make sure that the seal is intact. If there really is some damage, it's best that we find out about it now. We can bury it again once this is all over, nobody needs to know about this.”

“I'm not suggesting we, you know, erect a monument here or anything,” Cloranthy agrees, “C'mon, this is just being careful. You're normally all about being careful, aren't you? You'll double check that you've packed clean underwear, but you're not going to make sure the horrible plague spirit is locked up nice and tight?”

“Okay, fine!” Clarissa relents, throwing her hands up in dismay, “If it'll get you to stop talking about my underwear, then we'll do it. But we're covering it up again as soon as possible, is that clear?”

“Clear!” the younger sister chirps, although the look on her face is less than convincing.

-

Even between the three of you, clearing the dirt away from the seal is hard work. Without tools, you need to move the soil away one handful at a time, and it's not long before the work starts to take its toll. More than once, you glance up to see Cloranthy carefully wiping her bloodied hands on her long skirt. She meets your eyes once, and gently touches a finger to her lips.

You nod, although you're fairly certain that Clarissa must have noticed already. Or maybe not – she seems oddly distracted, often pausing her work for long moments. If it was anyone else you'd simply assume that she was reluctant to work, but you can't imagine Clarissa slacking off at anything.

“I wish the big guy was here,” Cloranthy mutters as she sits back to take a break, “He'd have this hole field dug up, just like that.”

“The “big guy” has a name, you know,” you point out, “I hate to think what you've decided to call everyone else.”

“Oh, that's easy. It's the big guy, the mean girl, the new girl, and Lucas,” Cloranthy gives you a weak, tired grin, “You should feel proud of yourself, my man. You get a proper name. Do you know how hard that is?”

You can probably guess. Glancing aside, you notice that Clarissa has spaced out again. “You said you felt something, before,” you whisper, hoping not to be overheard, “Felt what, exactly?”

“I don't... Bad vibes, you know? Like you look at a bit of food and you know it's no good, but you eat it anyway because you're really hungry. Then you KNOW it's really bad. Those kind of vibes,” she explains vaguely, “It felt dark, and mean. Like I couldn't breath, almost.”

“Right,” you pause, “So you thought it felt bad, and you wanted to dig it up anyway?”

“What are you, Mister Common Sense now?” she shrugs, “I told you. I needed to be sure. It would just annoy me if I didn't know for certain. Wouldn't be able to sleep at night for thinking about it. Also, the whole “massive danger” thing, but that's not as important.”

Naturally.

[1/2]

>>5694500

“Sorry, what was that?” Clarissa says suddenly, causing you both to glance around at her. She pauses, waiting for an answer that just doesn't come before finally shaking her head. “I just thought you were saying something,” she murmurs, “Sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I suppose digging a hole isn't exactly the most exciting thing in the land.”

“Digging a hole above a sealed plague spirit,” Cloranthy reminds her, “Does that make it better?”

“It makes it... less boring,” the older sister replies carefully, her brow creasing with a sour frown, “Let's just get this over with. We can't have much left to uncover, surely?”

She's right, by the looks of it. Assuming there's nothing else hidden under the soil, you've got most of the emblem revealed. Enough, in fact, for you to have noticed an odd detail. The carving takes the shape of a radiant sun, pointed arms thrusting out from the centre, which has been carved to suggest a face. It's the inner space that you've noticed – the inside of the sun has been notched with a winding trail that almost looks like...

“Don't say it,” Clarissa warns, noticing your gaze, “Don't even think about it.”

“Oh yeah, it kinda does look like a maze,” Cloranthy says, “I wouldn't have noticed that if you hadn't said anything. Thanks sis!”

As Clarissa groans, you consider the seal once more. The seal you found in Penn's Garden had been much smaller, much simpler than this one. Why would the original creators turn the seal into a massive Dho game? A way to contact the spirit, perhaps, to cast their mind into the sealed prison for some unknowable reason.

“Can we just focus, please?” Clarissa pleads, punching you lightly on the arm, “We just need to make sure the seal is intact, then we can cover it back up again. That was the deal, remember?”

“Fine, fine...” you reply, dusting away the last few clumps of soil. As you peer down at the carved lines, Cloranthy struggles to pull herself out of the pit and lets out a long sigh. “Fetch some charcoal and paper, will you?” you tell Clarissa, “We should at least take a sketch of the seal, we can study it later. You know, once we've covered this up.”

“I should have some in my pack, I'm sure I brought some with us,” Clarissa gives you a nod, only to glance back at you before leaving, “You're not going to do anything foolish while I'm gone, are you?”

“No more foolish than normal,” you assure her, “Don't worry about it, okay?”

“You're not exactly...” she sighs, shakes her head, “Fine. I shouldn't be too long. Just sit tight.”

You and Cloranthy wait for a moment, watching as Clarissa hurries back towards the shelter. “So...” the younger girl begins, “Are we gonna, you know... play it?”

>Play the Dho game
>Do not play the Dho game
>Other

>>5694521
>Do not play the Dho game
We're at the brink of war, let's not unleash even more disasters

>>5694521
>Do not play the Dho game
Call me crazy, but I don't think we should potentially breach the veil of a plague spirit.

>>5694521
>Do not play the Dho game

>>5694521
>Play the Dho game
fuck it we ball

“Let's... not,” you tell her, “I think we've got enough problems, without potentially stirring up... whatever this thing even is.”

“Yeah, probably,” Cloranthy pauses, “It's really got me curious though.”

“Me too. But in this case, I'm perfectly happy to remain curious,” you insist, “Besides, just think what would happen if Clarissa got back and found us deep in a trace. I'd never hear the end of it, if I even woke up at all!”

Cloranthy considers this for a few moments. “I guess you're right,” she sighs, “And if I show her how responsible I am, how seriously I'm taking this, she might take me on some more investigations. I'll get to poke at even more weird stuff!”

“Er, right. I'm sure she'll keep that in mind,” you decide, turning back to the carving itself as you check for any damage, any deformities. It's oddly difficult to focus on the outer lines, with your eye constantly wandering back to the maze-like carvings in the centre. It's almost as if the seal itself WANTS you to play the game. Fighting to keep your eyes straight, you hurry through the last of the outer lines. Just as you're standing up again, a shadow falls across the pit.

“Paper and charcoal, as requested,” Clarissa announces, holding out her precious cargo, “It took me longer to find than I expected. It was actually in Cloranthy's back, hidden under the stuffed bear.”

“Hey!” Cloranthy wails, flashing you a desperate look, “That's not... I don't... I wouldn't bring...”

“It's okay, don't worry about it,” you assure her, somehow keeping a straight face, “I still think you're cool.”

“This sucks...” Cloranthy mutters, snatching the paper and charcoal before angrily sketching out the first few lines.

-

“What do you think it is, anyway?” Clarissa murmurs, sitting back as Cloranthy works, “This spirit, I mean. The books called it a Perversion of Sheol, but what does that even mean?”

“A death spirit, I presume, but a nasty one,” you think for a moment, “Some believe that Sheol marks people for death, then sends his spirits to collect their due when the time comes. For a death spirit to take victims at random, though... that would be against his plan. Against the rules.”

“Sheol's plan... Father told me about that, once. It's not exactly orthodox, but his soldiers really believe in it. I remember...” she pauses, “Well, it doesn't matter. People believe a lot of things – it doesn't mean there's any truth to it.”

The grim topic falters here, a brief silence falling over you as you watch Cloranthy putting the last touches to her sketch. “Hey,” you whisper, “Did she really bring a stuffed toy with her?”

“Yes. Father gave it to her when she was very young, but I never realised that she brought to the academy with her. I thought she'd outgrown it years ago,” Clarissa smiles slightly, although there's pain there too, “I guess I don't know her as well as I thought I did.”

[1]

>>5694550

Filling in the hole is, thankfully, a much quicker task than digging it up. Shovelling the loose dirt back into place and packing it down, you look back at the bald soil with a frown. With the grass ripped away, the disturbed ground looks about as obvious as a bright red cross. “It'll grow back,” Clarissa offers, although she doesn't sound convinced, “It looks bad now, but it'll clear up later.”

“Nobody's going to come here anyway,” you agree, “No roads, no trade routes, no reason to come this way. Not unless you knew there's something hidden here already.”

“And then you'd already be looking for it,” Cloranthy continues, not even looking up from her sketch, “I'm sure I've seen this symbol somewhere before. This EXACT symbol. A book I read somewhere, maybe, but I just can't think. Too damn tired to think.”

“You've probably read every book in those archives, so that hardly narrows the list down,” you point out, “Sleep on it, see if you can remember it any better in the morning.”

“I don't know if I'll be able to sleep, knowing that thing is under there,” Clarissa admits, “But if we set out now... no, it's better that we wait until morning. Fine. Fine.”

She almost sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

-

No fire in your dreams, this time, but something obscurely worse. You dream of the sealed spirit, of a tangled hive of serpents that coils and churns far beneath the surface. A rotting, filthy thing that had spent countless years steeping in its own corruption, growing worse and worse as time crawled on. You wake with a jolt, still feeling the filth creeping over every inch of skin. Shuddering, you notice that Clarissa's bedroll is empty and peer out from the shelter.

There, framed by the light of the moon, you spot her sitting by the disturbed earth. Hastily pocketing your revolver, you slip out of the shelter and cross over to her. She hears you approach, tensing up even if she doesn't turn around.

“Hey,” you begin as you sit beside her, your voice pitched low, “Making sure it's still buried there?”

Clarissa looks around, a humourless smile touching one corner of her mouth. “Yes, actually,” she admits, saying nothing else.

“Bad dreams?”

Another pause, before Clarissa gives a slow nod of agreement. “Just thinking about that thing turns my stomach,” she explains, “But it's not that. Not really. It's... the plan. Sheol's plan.”

“The plan that you don't believe in?”

“Just because I don't believe in it, that doesn't mean it might not be real,” she grimaces, “No, that sounds stupid. Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

>But you didn't say anything
>No, tell me. I want to know what's wrong
>Focus. You'll make mistakes if you can't keep a clear head
>Other

>>5694575
>No, tell me. I want to know what's wrong

>>5694575
>No, tell me. I want to know what's wrong

>>5694575
>But you didn't say anything
>No, tell me. I want to know what's wrong

can't not pick that first one

>>5694575
>No, tell me. I want to know what's wrong

>>5694575
>But you didn't say anything
>No, tell me. I want to know what's wrong

“But you didn't say anything,” you reply immediately, the words coming to your lips before you can think. Clarissa lets out a surprised laugh, only to cover her mouth as if embarrassed. It feels strange, hearing any kind of laughter in a place like this, but not bad. She has a nice laugh, clear and musical, even if she doesn't get to use it enough.

“That's the spirit,” you tells you, wincing slightly at her words, “No-”

“No pun intended?” you finish for her, “But seriously. Is there something wrong? Tell me – I want to know.”

Clarissa hesitates, as if unsure how sincere you really are. You nod, waiting for her to speak. “The... first time I ever saw a spirit,” she begins quietly, “It was in Ixtab. I was visiting father, and we went to the temple there with his unit. They were praying for safety. I remember kneeling there in the temple, hearing the priest drone on and on... but there was someone else there. Something else. I thought it was another priest at the time, a priest hidden in their long robes.”

“The priest... it moved through the men. Sometimes it would stop by one of them and touch their head like it was giving them a blessing. But not all of them, just some of the men at random,” Clarissa pauses, swallowing heavily as she considers her next words with care. “Afterwards, I realised that none of the men had seen the priest,” she murmurs eventually, “And that's when father realised what was going on. Not long after that, we were both sent to the academy.”

“It was only later, when father wrote to me, that I learned that some of the men I saw – some of the marked men – had been killed in action,” Clarissa says, her voice low, “Not all of them, just some. Few enough that it could all be a coincidence. Or...”

“Or it might all be part of the plan,” you murmur.

“I don't know. There's no way that I CAN know either,” she shrugs, “It's a question that won't ever have an answer, and that... bothers me.”

That's putting it lightly. The thought of living like that, with a destined death waiting for you, sends a chill down your spine. Better not to know at all, perhaps.

“Too much time around soldiers, that's my problem,” Clarissa decides suddenly, her voice firm, “They're a morbid lot, usually. They get all kinds of funny ideas and superstitions. Worse than old women, really, and it all rubbed off on me. Lucky me, huh?”

“Lucky you,” you agree, “But at least... ah.”

“You're trying to think of something nice to say,” she remarks, “Aren't you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Don't worry about it. I don't mind. Not really. At least, I can't imagine living any other way,” she shrugs again, “We don't choose our lives. You didn't choose to be born at the Forest Kingdom, and Cloranthy didn't choose to be born like... she is. But you both deal with it, so I don't have any right to complain either.”

[1]

>>5694610

Nobody talks much on the ride back to the academy. You're all eager to leave the ruined village, and what lies beneath it. Even after returning to the shelter, you hadn't slept much. Every time you did manage to drift off, the same vile dreams would jolt you awake.

“So are we going to call this a successful mission?” Cloranthy asks, after a long silence, “I think I'm going to call this a successful mission.”

“Not really a mission at all, actually,” you point out, “We didn't do much.”

“But we didn't screw anything up, either,” she counters, “Which, in my eyes, counts as a success. A triumph, even! We deserve a bonus for this, maybe a pay rise or... what do you guys get as a reward?”

“The satisfaction of a job well done, I think,” Clarissa answers, “The pride of doing your duty. Because that IS why we're doing this, isn't it? Not because of any, say, selfish desires for personal gain.”

If you were looking to make a profit, you'd be in pretty much any other line of work – not that you were ever really given a choice.

-

There's a letter waiting for Clarissa when you arrive back at the academy. Snatching it up, she hurriedly retreats into her room and slams the door shut. Good news, you hope, if there is such a thing as good news these days. Master Brehm doesn't seem to have returned from his “errand” yet, which leaves you at something of a loss. Maybe you'll just... relax for a little bit. Until the next disaster comes along, at least.

“Wasn't that what you said the last time?” you think aloud, staring into space as you try to recall.

“If you're going to talk to yourself, at least try to ask interesting questions,” Johannes says, emerging from his room, “So you're back, and with no visible injuries or obvious trauma too. Congratulations are in order.”

“What did you expect? We're all professionals here,” you reply, “...Except maybe Cloranthy. Not quite sure if she counts just yet. Still in training.”

Johannes just gives you a long, blank look. “You talk a lot of shit sometimes,” he points out, “Too much time with Persephone. That's your problem.”

Sometimes, it feels like ANY time with her is too much. But other times...

“Wipe that goofy smile off your face,” Johannes adds, slapping you lightly on the arm. Even a light slap hurts with that much muscle behind it, though. “That's it. We need to do something,” he decides, looking you up and down, “Go somewhere. Do something. No women allowed.”

“That sounds...” you pause, “Fun?”

Johannes lets out a low grunt. “That better not be sarcasm, Hearne, because I wasn't giving you a choice,” he states, “Think of something, or I'll decide for you. Consider this a threat.”

He's really serious about this, huh?

>You're not playing along. He can't make you
>You'll let him decide. He can do his worst
>You've got an idea of what to do... (Write in)
>Other

>>5694632
>You'll let him decide. He can do his worst

>>5694632
>You'll let him decide. He can do his worst
How bad could it possibly be?

>>5694632
>You've got an idea of what to do... (Write in)
Shooting range?

>>5694632
>You'll let him decide. He can do his worst

“Go ahead,” you tell him, “Do your worst.”

Johannes is silent for a long moment. “Shit,” he says eventually, “I didn't think this far ahead.”

“Too bad. You got us into this mess, so you can get us out of it,” you press, folding your arms and waiting, “It can't be that hard, can it? We can just do something that you think is fun, and I'll probably hate it by default. Then everyone wins, right?”

He thinks about this for a few seconds, trying to figure out the exact logic, then shrugs his massive shoulders. “Fine. Come on, we're going for a walk. Down to the capital,” he decides, “Saw something interesting when I was out with Maxim, but she didn't want to stop. Now I'll take you there instead.”

“This better not be a date,” you warn him.

“You wish,” he replies, letting out a snort of contempt.

-

“Been thinking, lately,” Johannes says bluntly, adjusting his backpack as you walk down the dusty road to the capital, “What kind of future do you see for us?”

“Us being... the cohort? The academy?” you ask, gesturing around you, “The whole damn land?”

“Yes. To all three,” he answers, “The more I think about it, the less I like what I see. Feels like we're all just waiting for things to go wrong, then patching up the damage. We're not defending anything, just cleaning up the messes we find along the way. Worst part of it is, I don't even see a way to change it. The system is broken and I don't know how to fix it. Don't know of anything better to replace it with either.”

Unusually introspective for a man like him. “Problems like that, they're too big for any one man to fix,” you suggest, “Even the Regent, in a way. Even if the Sun King whispers a perfect solution into his ear, he's still got to put the plan into action. It's not easy to get this nation to agree on anything, even if it's for the greater good.”

“I keep thinking of Roseclyff. Stupid, selfish people, always stabbing each other in the back for a handful of coin or... or some stupid pride,” Johannes grunts, “If the whole land was like that, I'd say let it burn.”

“But it's not all like that, is it?” you guess, “Are you thinking about-”

“No women, remember?” he interrupts.

“You mentioned Harriet.”

“I did?” Johannes pauses, thinks back, “I did. Shit.”

You're very generous, and you don't gloat about the victory. You just follow Johannes in silence, letting him guide you through the streets of the capital. Leaving the busy main streets behind, you slip into the narrow backstreets – a maze, even at the best of times. He really came HERE with Harriet?

Just as you're starting to wonder, Johannes leads you into what seems to be a dead end. Then, set deep into an alcove on the wall, you spot a small and shabby shrine. It looks like it hasn't been visited in years, let alone cared for, but here you are.

“Here we are,” Johannes says, as if sensing your thoughts.

[1]

>>5694657

As Johannes sets down his backpack, you step closer to peer down at the small shrine. It's older than you first thought, like the rest of the city had somehow formed around it. The tiny statue is of a female figure – you think – but the stone is so weathered that any other details are long-since worn away. There are the remains of some words carved into the stone arch above the shrine, but most of these are illegible too.

“Once, people cared about this place. They cared deeply about it – it meant something to them,” Johannes mutters, “Now look at it. I think the number of people who know about this place... you could count it on one hand. Including us.”

Stepping around you, Johannes starts to wipe away the dust and cobwebs with a rag. As he works, you open your senses to the spirit world. It's always a confusing thing to do in the capital, with the blinding, burning light of the Sun King blotting out nearly everything else, but you can see enough. “There's nothing here, Johannes,” you say quietly, “There's no spirit here.”

“I know,” he replies simply, scrubbing black soot from the walls, “But that doesn't mean we can't treat the place with a little bit of fucking respect. Now, are you going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to help out?”

You hesitate for a moment before picking up a spare cloth and starting to clean the other side of the shrine. Between the two of you, it's not long before the worst of the grime has been wiped away. It won't ever look as good as new – not when the stones themselves have been stained by years of smoke and smoke – but it's a definite improvement. As you work, you find yourself thinking more and more about the shrine itself.

A spirit of mercy once inhabited this place, you assume. A place where the locals would come to make offerings, to pray for sickly children and the souls of the dead. A common enough thing in the city, even if the aspect of mercy is a rather... alien thing to the academy itself.

Johannes finishes up by lighting a candle at the shrine and bringing his hands together in prayer. You join him, and just for a moment – a single fleeting second – you think you feel something responding. Or perhaps you're just imagining it, looking for something that isn't there.

“We're finished here,” Johannes decides, “We've finished our good deed for the day.”

“Really makes me feel warm inside,” you reply, finding that you actually mean it. A little bit.

“Sure,” he grunts, not entirely convinced, “But it was good of you to humour me. We could do it again some time – city's full of places like this.”

It certainly is.

>I think I'm going to take a pause here for today, to pick up again tomorrow
>Thank you for reading along today!

>>5694676
Thanks for running!

>>5694676
Thanks!

>>5694676
Damn Johannes is a Chad, easily the best waifu introduced so far

>>5694727
Agreed, Johannes is a top tier bro. If I believed /qst/. would ever vote to go gay, he'd be a solid husbando. All these characters are very well-written

File: Johannes Crane.jpg (85 KB, 646x727)

85 KB JPG

Before returning to the academy, you decide to wander the capital for a while longer. There's really no other place like it – not the towns and villages scattered throughout the land, not even the smaller cities that have grown in recent years. The capital has everything, a whole world crushed down into a single sprawling monstrosity.

The iron district is busier than normal, with a steady flow of people moving through the myriad weapon shops that line the narrow streets. Most of them are off-duty soldiers, by the looks of them, browsing the various blades and pistols on offer. You're fairly sure that personal weapons are prohibited in the lower ranks, but nobody seems to have told them that.

“I'm glad to see that business is booming,” Johannes drawls as he examines a particularly massive revolver.

“Somehow I don't think you actually mean that,” you reply, “I don't know, call me a cynic.”

“You're a cynic,” he grunts, returning the revolver to the stall. You browse through the row of pistols laid out atop the stall, but nothing really catches your eye – many of the weapons look cheap, crudely made from iron or bad steel. The best pieces, you expect, have already been bought up by canny soldiers, leaving these for the luckless or the truly desperate.

Leaving the weapon shops behind, you start the slow trek back to the academy. As you're walking, though, a thought occurs. “So,” you ask, “How was the ivy district?”

Johannes lets out a low growl of irritation. “I could eat for a whole day on what they charged for a single glass of wine. Don't even ask what they were demanding for a whole bottle,” he mutters, “Not that it mattered to Maxim, mind you.”

“But was it GOOD wine?”

“Shit, I don't know. Do I look like a wine expert?” he shrugs, “It wasn't disgusting. She seemed to like it. That's about it – if you ask me for tasting notes, I'll hit you.”

You know him well enough to take that threat seriously. “I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that Harriet gets very loud when she drinks, and she probably laughs a lot,” you muse, “But I really can't imagine you getting drunk.”

“You assume correctly. She talks a lot, but doesn't make much sense,” he pauses, thinks for a moment then corrects himself, “More so than usual, I mean. She talked a lot about a clock, and her father, and... and the damn family business. I heard more about the silk trade than I ever wanted to know. I couldn't get in a single word, which is fortunate because I had literally nothing to say.”

“I see,” you consider this for a second, “So what you're saying is, you had fun?”

“What I'm saying is, this should never happen again,” he growls, “But if it does, you can be the one to babysit her.”

He had fun. He's just too embarrassed to admit it. Maybe.

[1/2]

>>5695290

Back at the academy, you find Clarissa sitting at the dining table with a vacant look on her face and a folded sheet of paper laid out before her. She doesn't notice you at first, only jolting around when Johannes bangs the door closed. “I didn't realise you were back,” she says quickly, “Were you doing anything... fun?”

“Went out to look at guns,” Johannes answers, cutting you off before you can say anything, “You would have loved it.”

“That's right, I would have loved it,” she agrees, giving you both a slight frown. You just hope she doesn't ask why she wasn't invited – if she does, Johannes can be the one to explain.

But she doesn't ask. She doesn't say anything, in fact, sitting in silence as Johannes returns to his room. Once it's just the two of you again, you nod down to the paper. “News from the front?” you ask quietly, “Good news, I hope.”

“Mm, well, maybe. Not much news at all,” she replies, gesturing for you to sit before leaning forwards, “They're saying... ah, I don't know. This might be confidential information.”

Maybe. But the tiny hint of a smile on her face says otherwise. “Right,” you counter, “So confidential that your father wrote it down in a letter to his daughter.”

“There seems to be some heavy diplomatic manoeuvring going on, all very hush hush,” Clarissa whispers, accepting your point with a slight nod, “We don't know exactly what, but it seems to be stalling the Reivians. Father doesn't say, but there's something going on in Ixtab. Something big. They're trying to buy as much time as possible.”

It's easy to imagine something going on in Ixtab – the city is truly ancient, built atop a vast network of catacombs that burrow deep into the earth. It's not uncommon for new areas to be uncovered, new tunnels to be unearthed. “What do you think it is?” you ask, but Clarissa just shakes her head.

“All I can do is wait for the next letter,” she admits, “I'll let you know if I hear anything more.”

“I'd like that,” you reply, “But... you weren't waiting just to tell me about the letter, were you?”

She considers denying it for a second before shrugging. “There was something else, just in case anyone asks for me. Tomorrow, I'm going up the mountain. I've been... hearing things,” she explains, “Ever since we went to that cursed town. Maybe before then, even, but... I don't know. But the monks can instruct me, I'm sure of it.”

A guardian spirit, so soon after visiting that town and the sealed spirit beneath it... it feels like trouble, more than anything else. The worst kind of trouble.

“I would have liked Cloranthy to come with me, but with the journey up the mountain... it's just not possible,” Clarissa shrugs, “It's fine, though. I'll be fine. So if anyone asks...”

>I'll let them know. Good luck with the monks
>I'll go with you. You shouldn't do this alone
>I don't think you should go. It feels dangerous
>Other

>>5695291
>I’ll go with you

>>5695291
>>I'll go with you. You shouldn't do this alone

“I'll go with you,” you tell her quickly, “You shouldn't do this alone.”

Clarissa considers this, looking down and carefully folding up her letter. She slips the letter into her pocket, then finally looks back up and meets your gaze. “If you insist,” she says quietly, “But if you're just saying that because you think you owe me one...”

“No, it's not that. I'd want to help you out regardless. I just hope... you're sure that you want to do this?” you ask carefully, “Are you really sure that it's a good idea?”

“I have to do this, Lucas. I have to. I've been thinking about this ever since I first heard that voice in my dreams, debating with myself about what to do. But I've made up my mind – I know what I have to do,” Clarissa insists, nodding firmly, “And I'll be glad to have you by my side. You've already seen the worst of me, after all. I'm sure this'll be no trouble at all!”

You don't believe that, but neither does she. Not really. But you just nod your agreement and let the matter rest. “Tomorrow morning, then,” you decide, “Bright and early.”

“I can't wait.”

-

For once, it does turn out to be bright and early – but only because Clarissa wakes you up with a firm knock at your bedroom door. Her expression is strange, a mask of grim excitement pulled taut over strained nerves. You wonder if you looked the same what, when it was your turn to ascend to the monastery. Not really, but you hadn't known what to expect. If you had...

“Come now, hurry up,” Clarissa urges as you're tying up your boots, “And brush your hair, you look like you just got out of bed!”

“Because I did just get out of bed,” you argue, waving her away before she can do the job for you, “And I don't think the monks are going to care whether I've brushed my hair or not. Most of them don't have any hair, for one thing. They've probably forgotten what it looks like!”

“Yes, but I haven't. You'll embarrass me!” she scolds, “Oh, never mind – I know an unwinnable battle when I see one. Let's just head out. You're sure that you want to come with me?”

“I'm sure,” you assure her, “I had a few things I wanted to discuss with the monks anyway. So, you know, I've got my own selfish reasons for doing this.”

“Oh good, so I don't have to feel guilty about dragging you all the way up the mountain for my sakes,” Clarissa allows herself a laugh, “That's a relief! What were you looking to discuss, anyway?”

“Something about a case,” you reply vaguely, “It's a long story. Too long, really, and it's kind of a mess.

“We'll have plenty of time to talk on the hike up,” she points out, but you just wave her question away. Giving up, at least for now, Clarissa just shrugs and starts to leave. You follow, silently considering the matter of Harriet's strange meditation – the monks might know more about such things than you do, even if they can just point you in the right direction.

[1]

>>5695301

The hike doesn't seem nearly as long this time around, perhaps because of the ruthless pace Clarissa is setting. You're able to tackle the stairs much quicker than before without Master Brehm around, although you feel a little guilty for it. Neither of you says much, saving your breath for curt warnings about the terrain ahead. You only stop once, when you notice some markings carved into the cliff face – ancient letters in the crude Aklo script.

“Our faith is a mountain,” you read aloud, translating the ancient letters, “Good for them, I guess. Don't know why they wanted to tell us, mind you.”

“I suppose you have to amuse yourself somehow up here,” Clarissa replies, hugging herself against the cold wind, “Come on, we don't have much farther to go.”

You nod, leaving the unfathomably ancient words behind you.

-

The monastery door is ajar when you arrive at the summit, not quite thrown open to invite you in or closed shut to warn you away. The equivalent of a non-committal shrug, in a way. With a shrug of your own, you creep through the open door and look around for any sign of life. Nobody comes to meet you, and you don't see any way to summon them – no bell to ring, no gong to strike, nothing. You could just shout, of course, but the stillness here is so great, so perfect, that you feel oddly reluctant to raise your voice.

“Creepy, isn't it?” Clarissa whispers, apparently sharing your concerns, “Let's see... I think we went this way, before. Yes, I remember now – this way.”

She leads you down a long hallway into a familiar chamber looking out over the mountains. You remember the floors here, all carved with their own intricate Dho games, and the impressive view from the tall windows. You remember the cold wind too, and that certainly hasn't changed. Without thinking, you drift across to the windows and peer out at the mountain range's savage beauty.

“There are some perks to living up here,” Clarissa says as she joins you by the window, “Not many, but some. Just enough to make it tolerable.”

“Thinking of a career change?” you joke, “Plenty of peace and quiet up here, if you want.”

“You would be most welcome here, Young Mistress Lowe,” a whispered voice announces, reaching you all the way from the other side of the chamber. Turning, you see Roerich standing in the doorway. He slowly shuffles into the chamber, and you hasten to meet him. “I see that you have joined us once more,” the monk continues, “Naturally, we will assist you how we can.”

“We have need of your skills,” Clarissa begins, “I believe... I believe I have a guardian spirit trying to contact me, but I need your help. Will you do this for us?”

Roerich considers this in silence, the yellow silk of his robes rustling with every tiny movement he makes. The bold request seems to have taken him by surprise, and you wince at the thought of Clarissa breaking some unspoken taboo by speaking so plainly.

[2]

>>5695313

“I wonder,” the monk whispers eventually, his papery lips barely moving as he pronounces the word, “A guardian spirit can be many things, to many different people. There are times, I have been told, that it is no blessing at all. You may be binding yourself to forces far greater than any man, to a purpose that is not your own. I wonder if you could accept that.”

“I could,” Clarissa answers promptly, “I've thought about this. I've thought long and hard about this.”

Again, the monk falls silent as he considers this. “And you, Young Master Hearne,” he murmurs, “Your own guardian burns brightly within you. I see it, even now with my eyes closed tight. I wonder – what is your guardian spirit to you?”

The question takes you by surprise. Your guardian spirit is... what, exactly? What does it mean to you?


>It's a part of me that I've always been searching for
>It's a weapon that only I can wield
>It's a mystery that I have not yet solved
>My guardian spirit is... (Write in)
>Other

>>5695315
>It's a part of me that I've always been searching for

>>5695315
>A mystery I have yet to solve

>>5695315
>It's a part of me that I've always been searching for

“My guardian spirit?” you repeat, “I suppose... I suppose it's a part of me that I've always been searching for. I don't think I can explain it any better than that, because I still don't fully understand it myself.”

Roerich nods, with what seems like a hint of sadness. “Do you see, Young Mistress Lowe?” he muses, “Even those who have united with their guardian spirit are still left with questions. With doubts, with uncertainties... These are things that we must all live with.”

“I know. I'm not looking for enlightenment, or to have all the answers,” Clarissa insists, her brow furrowing with the first hints of a frown, “I'm not asking you to tell me the meaning of life.”

“Then, perhaps you could tell us what you ARE looking for,” the monk asks softly, placing a wizened hand on her shoulder, “You know it, as do I. But I wish to hear you say it aloud.”

Clarissa hesitates for a second, her eyes flicking away as if fleeing from the monk. Just for a moment, you sense her wavering. Then her eyes meet yours, and her resolve hardens. “I'm looking for strength,” she announces, looking the old monk straight in the eye, “Strength to face the challenges ahead of us. I know they're not your concern, but I have to fight and I... I'm not strong enough. Not yet.”

The monk considers this for a long moment. “Many of my brothers would refuse this request. They would send you away, and ask that you never return. They would do this because they are wise, far wiser than I,” he whispers at last, turning and starting to shuffle away, “Come. You too, Young Master Hearne, if you wish to be a part of this too. I will perform the rites myself.”

-

With slow, pained steps, Roerich leads you both up to the highest level of the monastery, and the ritual chamber found there. Clarissa's face is set firm, although her fingers twitch in a near constant rhythm until, out of desperation, you reach out and grab her hand to still her unsettled motions. She looks around in surprise, then manages a small smile.

Inside, the ritual chamber is just as you remember it – small, almost cramped, and filled with a dense mist. Peering through the glowing vapours, you see constant images flickering and flashing at the edges of your vision. Distorted reflections, in a way, just not reflections of anything in the real world. Without another word, Roerich backs out of the chamber and heaves the heavy door closed. Still holding onto your hand, Clarissa leads you deeper into the mist and gently pushes you to the ground.

Sitting, locking eyes with her, you find yourself searching for something to say – some glib comment, something that might allow you a few extra seconds of reality. But you can't think of anything, and Clarissa reaches out to softly close your eyes. Then, acting from a will that is not your own, your inner eye opens wide.

[1]

>>5695345

“...For all souls return to him in time, to serve in his great machine. Yes, my friends, this too is a service,” the voice drones, echoing out around you, “And when your service ends, you will be returned to the womb of the earth with all sins cleansed. So go forth, my friends, and do your duty with no fear, no doubt or hesitation. Serve, my friends, with joy in your hearts.”

You open your eyes, only to be greeted by an impenetrable wall of fog. Silhouettes surround you, dark shapes of kneeling men, while the voice seems to come from every direction at once. Slowly, terribly slowly, the mist starts to thin – enough that you can make out some details on the distorted figures surrounding you. The men are soldiers, you realise, with uniforms and swords, although their faces remain indistinct. All except one.

He's a large man, with broad shoulders and a blunt, shaven head. You've seen him before, a portrait in the Lowe manor.

“Oh no,” Clarissa breathes, her voice drifting to you through the mist, “Oh no no no. Not this. Not like this.”

You turn, feeling your whole body move in slow motion, as you look for Clarissa. You can't see her anywhere, not with the mist still close around you. But you can see some signs of movement – a single figure slowly moving through the ranks of kneeling figures. Occasionally, the figure stops and places a hand upon one of the kneeling men before moving on. It's all just as Clarissa said, which means...

Which means these men, the men chosen by this shadowy priest, have been marked, perhaps, for death. Marked out as a part of Sheol's plan.

Slowly, the shadowy priest drifts through the temple as the sermon drones on and on. Finally, as the fog things, you spo Clarissa at the very back of the hall. Her eyes are wide with horror, her face twisted into a hideous grimace. Turning back, you realise what she's so afraid of. The priest has turned to her father, reaching out to touch his bowed head. Reaching out to mark the man for death.

“No!” Clarissa screams, her cry seeming to come from a great distance. Fighting against the torpor clawing at her limbs, she starts to run at the phantom priest, to stop it before it can mark her father. You watch in numb disbelief, feeling a terrible dread welling up in you. All it would take is a single motion, a single movement of your arm, and you could catch her before she reaches the deathly spirit.

>Stop Clarissa before she can touch the spirit
>Do nothing, let Clarissa contact the spirit

>>5695373
>Stop Clarissa before she can touch the spirit
I don't think anyone should touch that thing considering what it putting a hand on someone implies. Maybe we can shoot it before it touches her dad?

>>5695373
>Do nothing, let Clarissa contact the spirit

>>5695373
>Stop Clarissa before she can touch the spirit
I don't think that's the kind of strength she wants. Veil aside, death curse in a can is not going to help.

>>5695373
>Stop Clarissa before she can touch the spirit
Bondibg with a death spirit may well doom Clarissa, in soul or in body.

>>5695373
>Stop Clarissa before she can touch the spirit
I feel like our experience with losing our other friend would want us to protect her from spooky stuff

Time seems to have become distorted, moving so slowly and yet terribly fast all at once. You can't make sense of it, but one thought burns clear and bright in your mind – you can't let her touch that spirit, and the certain death that it embodies. She might be seeking strength, but this isn't the way to go about it. You won't... you won't lose anyone else!

Fighting against the weight of the fog, you bring your arm around and catch Clarissa's arm as she passes by. She struggles, fights against you, but she can't stop you from dragging her to the ground. Numb as you are, you barely feel a thing as you hit the floor, or as she claws wildly at you. All you can do is hold her tight, holding her down as a terrible heat builds up in your chest.

“Don't touch him! Don't you touch him!” Clarissa cries, her voice raw with rage. Wriggling partly free from your grasp, she reaches out one hand towards the spirit, but the distance is too great. The last wisps of fog are burned away as the spirit reaches for her father, the mist replaced by a blazing white light that builds and builds and builds until-

-

Pain rips through you as Clarissa's nails claw at your face, the sudden jolt of feeling causing you to lurch away from her. She continues to thrash and fight for a moment more, even after you've let go of her, but her motions finally grow still. Silence descends, stillness coming with it. You think, replaying those final moments over and over again in your head. The spirit. Did it actually touch her father, or...

But you don't know. The blinding light had burned the scene away before you could make any sense of it. It's another question that you might never see answered.

“...I don't hear anything,” Clarissa rasps, her voice low and defeated, “I don't hear it. I don't hear anything.”

She keeps muttering to herself, even as the door grinds slowly open. Blinking against the light through the doorway, you peer out at Roerich's silhouette. Without a word, he turns and shuffles back into the monastery, leaving you to slowly pull yourself upright. Every muscle in your body aches, to say nothing of the bloody that mark your cheek, but you push aside the pain. Instead, you reach down to offer Clarissa your hand.

She ignores it, rolling over and struggling to her feet by herself. Without even looking at you, she skulks from the ritual chamber. In the time it takes for you to snap back into motion, she's already vanished down the stairwell with Roerich. Alone once more, you start to trudge down one step at a time. You did... the right thing, didn't you? Nothing good could come from a spirit like that – you've felt that from the very first moment. You did the right thing.

Didn't you?

[1]

>>5695405
I mean the other option was turning on the fire and blasting the death spirit, but killing illusion dad in the collateral would probably be bad

>>5695405
Also wanna make sure that we ask Roerich about Harriet's meditation stuff. There's still a lot to look into - whatever Brehm is doing, cult/broken seal activity, Ixtab happenings and the war, probably also growing our understanding of this world's theology/mysticism in general.

Now that we're a pro, do we have to go on jobs as well (similar to our boy in Northern Beasts), or how else do we get paid?

>>5695425
>Now that we're a pro, do we have to go on jobs as well (similar to our boy in Northern Beasts), or how else do we get paid?

>Qualified Exorcists do get assignments, when the need arises, but they're otherwise free to continue their own research or investigtions. So we still need to earn our keep, but otherwise we've got freedom to operate

>>5695405

Roerich is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, his lifeless face utterly unreadable. He studies you for a moment before producing a clean white cloth from one cavernous sleeve. You take it gratefully, wiping blood from your face and giving him a weak nod of thanks. “Come,” the monk whispers, when he's satisfied that you're presentable. You let him guide you into an empty cell, sinking down to sit on the cold stone floor.

“I don't know what happened,” you begin, speaking without thinking, “I think I... ruined it for her. The spirit-”

“Yes. I suspect that the link between Young Mistress Lowe and the spirit has been severed,” Roerich answers, sitting down opposite you, “It is likely that she will never have a chance to bear a guardian spirit such as yours.”

“But that spirit was... bad. I could feel it. I could feel how awful it really was,” you insist, “Joining with a spirit like that... it would have been dangerous for her, wouldn't it? We could have lost her completely, even.”

A long pause. “Perhaps,” the monk suggests, “A spirit of death such as that does not concern itself with the morality of men. Good and bad, as we understand them, do not matter to such a spirit. They simply follow the natural order of things – death follows life, for the wicked and the virtuous alike. There is great strength to be found in such laws, but they are pitiless. Cruel, even, to the eyes of men. Is that the kind of strength that she would have wanted?”

“...I don't know,” you admit, “Maybe. If it meant... I don't know. I should talk to her, I need to-”

You start to rise here, only for the monk to place his wizened hands on your shoulders to stop you. “Sit. Rest. I will watch over your friend,” he urges, pushing you back down with a surprising strength, “Your mind, your soul, has been through an ordeal. You must recover your strength, as must she. Haste will achieve little.”

As much as you hate to admit it, he's right – you barely have the strength to rise. Nodding wearily, you slump down to your side and lie on the stone floor. You've still got a lot that you mean to discuss with Roerich, but that can wait. Later, when you've got the strength to say a coherent sentence, you can ask your questions.

Lying there with your eyes closed, you see a fire burning in the darkness. It swells before your closed eyes, burning brighter until it threatens to run out of control. You imagine what might happen if it did, and then you imagine if it was the essence of death itself that was running rampant instead of fire. That would be the real perversion of Sheol, worse than any simple spirit. But you stopped it. You put an end to it. And if there's a cost to it... so be it.

You rest, but you don't sleep. You're glad of that, in a way. You don't want to dream.

[2/3]

>>5695442

After a long while, Roerich returns with a cup of weak herbal tea. The faint smell both awakens your appetite and fills your stomach with a restless sickly feeling. As hungry as you are, you couldn't eat a thing right now. Accepting the tea with a nod, you take a few careful sips to dampen your throat as Roerich sits opposite you once more.

“Young Mistress Lowe is resting,” he announces simply, “I feel it would be best if she is not disturbed for now. We shall talk, instead. Ask your questions, Young Master Hearne.”

“You knew that I had... Oh, it doesn't matter,” you sigh, shaking your head, “Yes, I had questions. I wanted to know about meditation – I heard about a strange technique, something I had never heard of before. The individual would... they'd imagine themselves as a bird, flying through the air. They'd leave their body behind and fly until they could see into the spirit world. Do you know of such a technique?”

“I do,” Roerich nods slowly, “An old form of meditation, once practised in the west.”

“The west?” you repeat, “The Reivian Empire?”

“Lands that have since been swallowed up by the Reivian Empire, but yes,” the monk nods again, “A dangerous form of meditation, offering far less control than our Dho games. It leaves the user at the mercy of the spirits they encounter, as the bird at flight is at mercy of the tempest winds. An unprepared user could disturb the spirit world or, at worst, open themselves up to possession. The practice is seldom used these days, of course.”

Not as rare as he might think, you suspect. If this is how the Reivians are contacting their spirits, and how Harriet was taught...

But that strange cloud of darkness surrounding her, that's not possession. Not a guardian spirit either, you're sure. Hesitantly, you describe the vision to Roerich, who listens with obvious interest. It's strange, and somehow horrible, to see traces of life and emotion creeping back into his pallid face.

“Fascinating...” he murmurs, “It is said that when the spirits of the dead are disturbed, dragged back to this mortal realm, they first appear as a cloud of unformed darkness, only later to take on their former image. Yet you say this cloud remains unformed?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, “Could this be a result of this western meditation too?”

“If a possession was foiled partway through... no, but then the spirit would return past the Veil. Curious,” Roerich taps a thin finger against his chin as he thinks, “Such a thing should not be, yet I have no reason to disbelieve you. How curious!”

Something even the monks don't recognise. Because nothing can ever be simple, can it?

>Maybe it's time you faced Clarissa
>You've got other questions first... (Write in)
>Other

>>5695455
>You've got other questions first... (Write in)
They use Dho boards up here right? Ask about the Plague Spirit's seal

>>5695455
>>5695457 +1

>>5695455
>>5695457
+2

“I saw a strange thing lately,” you begin, only to pause and rethink your question. With everything else that's happened, you really need to be more specific. “A strange stone carving, like a Dho game of sorts,” you continue, “It was carved as part of an image of the Sun King, and image placed atop... ah, a site where a dangerous spirit once roamed.”

A knowing light enters the monk's eyes. “A spirit that has been sealed away,” he remarks, “Cast out from this world, but not allowed to return to the spirit realm.”

“You know of it,” you reply weakly. You probably should have expected that. If anyone knew about this strange, half-forgotten lore, it would be the monks.

“But I have never looked upon one of these seals with my own eyes. A Dho game incorporated into the seal itself? I would think, perhaps, it would serve to allow contact with the spirit itself, without releasing it from the prison. Yet, it would be a terrible risk to anyone attempting contact – contamination would be inevitable for all but the strongest mind,” Roerich murmurs, “You didn't-”

“No, no we didn't use it,” you assure him, “I assumed it would be something like that. Something... dangerous. I feel like everything seems very dangerous lately.”

The monk smiles slightly, his papery lips quivering. “Death is not a force to approach lightly,” he warns, “If it seems dangerous, that means you are learning. I will give you this one warning, and perhaps it will not be needed. Perhaps you have realised this already, but these seals were forgotten for a reason. I would hope that they remain so.”

“Let them stay buried,” you murmur, nodding to yourself as you decide your next move. You've been putting it off long enough – it's time to check on Clarissa.

-

Roerich takes you through the monastery to another cell, identical to your resting place. He gestures towards the door, then silently steps back away from earshot. Waiting a second more, just to make sure that the monk won't be listening in, you brush the curtain aside and enter the cell.

Clarissa sits with her back against the wall, staring into space with a vacant, hopeless expression. She doesn't move when you enter the cell, although her eyes briefly shift towards the sound of your entrance before darting away. She does her best to pretend that you don't exist, although it becomes near enough impossible when you sit directly opposite her. She doesn't push you away or retreat back to the other end of the cell, she just sits there and waits for you to go away, to stop existing in general.

“Can we talk?” you say at last, her relentless silence finally getting the better of you.

“There is nothing for us to talk about,” she replies eventually, resenting even those few words. Then she turns her head, staring over your shoulder to glare at the bare stone behind you.

[1]

>>5695472

“Look at me. Clarissa, can you please just look at me?” you ask, hating the desperation that you can hear creeping into your voice, “Fine. Fine. If you won't look at me, at least listen to me. What I did, I-”

“What you DID?” Clarissa repeats, her eyes narrowing into dark slits, “Do you even know what you've done?”

This time, you're the one is silent. “I was protecting you,” you answer eventually, “That spirit was dangerous, just as dangerous as that buried monster. Couldn't you see that?”

Slowly she turns back to meet your gaze, and then you find yourself wishing she would look away. “Of course I saw that. I knew exactly how vile that thing was, how loathsome and dangerous it was. But I didn't get to choose it – it was just a part of me, after all. But I could have made use of it, wielded it like a weapon if necessary.”

“And that's why I couldn't let you-”

“So I didn't get any say in the matter?” she snaps, anger flaring in her eyes, “I couldn't even decide this one thing for myself, is that it? You've taken this from me, Lucas. I won't ever get another chance like this, to get the same power that YOU have. Is that what you wanted all along?”

The accusation hits you like a slap in the face. “Of course not!” you insist, “Come on, you know that's not-”

She stands abruptly, swaying from exhaustion before bracing herself against the wall and glaring away your offer of a helping hand. “I'm going to finish resting, and then I'm going back to the academy. There's nothing left for me here,” she whispers, “Follow me or don't. I don't much care either way. But right now, I think I'd rather be alone.”

>It's best that you leave her alone, as requested
>You've got more to say... (Write in)
>Other

>>5695486
>It's best that you leave her alone, as requested

>>5695486
>You've got more to say... (Write in)
"I'm sorry for robbing you of the right to choose for yourself"

(But not sorry for not letting you touch that thing.)

>>5695486
>It's best that you leave her alone, as requested

You might have been tempted to stay and argue for a while longer, if not for the tone of her voice – not the anger, but the simple weariness in it. She looks tired and hopeless, utterly defeated by what you've done here. The tiredness might go away, but what good will a night's sleep do for all the rest?

The solitude, at least, might give her time to think. For good or for ill.

“I'm sorry that I took the choice away from you,” you tell her simply, just as you're leaving the cell, “But I'm not sorry for what I did. Some day, I hope you'll be able to see that.”

Her eyes widen a little at this, your words cutting through the jaded exterior, but she turns her face away before she had let any more feeling show. Leaving her to the solitude she so dearly desires, you turn and flee the cell.

-

You do the same thing that you've always done in troubled times – you seek solace in books, helping yourself to the monastery's archives. Browsing the bookshelves at random, you pull down any book that catches your eye and carelessly open them, reading whatever you find within. It becomes a kind of frenzy, a desperate energy that pushes you forwards even as your body cries out for rest. Tearing through one book after another in search of the perfect distraction, you stumble across an image that hits you like a closed fist.

The image depicts a man silhouetted against a blazing sun, almost swallowed up by the roiling fire behind him yet somehow standing tall. An image of the Sun King, you realise after reading the next page, but drawn in a much more ancient style. Later depictions would omit the man, focusing entirely on the unconquerable sun itself. But something about the ancient image cries out to you, demanding your attention.

It's how familiar it is. Like you're looking in a mirror.

>I think I'm going to take a pause here for today. I'll be aiming to pick this up again tomorrow, same usual time
>Thank you for reading along today!

>>5695525
Thanks for running!

>>5695525
Thanks for running and giving timing on the next one

>>5695525
Oh god, our guardian spirit is the Sun King, isn't ut? The regent is a pretender.

>>5695602
Seems like it. I hope we can publicize this without getting a knife in the back.

>>5695602
If so does the regent even know or is he being used as a puppet?

>>5695810
He could be barely keeping the kingdom together as they try to look for a solution to losing Divine Mandate.

File: Persephone Cross.jpg (900 KB, 1650x2068)

900 KB JPG

The trek back down to the academy feels very long, and very bleak. Although you and Clarissa leave the monastery at the same time, you might as well be going on two separate journeys – she doesn't even look at you, let alone make conversation. You're left to march grimly ahead, snow blowing in your face with every step you take.

Suffice to say, you've burned a lot of bridges today. It'll be a long time before Clarissa can look you in the eye again, if ever, If it means that she survives, though, it might just be worth the sacrifice.

You go your separate ways once you return to the academy, Clarissa heading towards the archives while you go straight for the dormitory. All is quiet when you arrive, which is a little odd for the late afternoon, with a perfect stillness hanging over the entire room. You make tea, purely for something to fill the silence, then sit and think. “There's no point in moping about it,” you decide after a long while, “What's done is done. Can't change the past now.”

Which is easy to say, but much harder to believe. You lapse back into thought for a few moments more before the touch of a hand on your shoulder rouses you back to reality.

“My, it seems that a handsome stranger has come to visit us,” a voice purrs into your ear, “Would you be so kind as to tell me your name, sir?”

“I know, I know. I've not been around much, lately,” you sigh, without even looking around at Persephone, “But that's a little much, don't you think?”

“What a curious name!” Persephone replies with a little gasp of pleasure, flouncing around to the other side of the table, “It must be a strange land that you come from, if you all have names like that!”

“Fine then, if you're not going to take this seriously...” you mutter, “I come from a strange land called... called “Go Away”. Yes, that's it. It's a very short name – I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you.”

She laughs with delight, clearly pleased to be getting under your skin. But then, apparently tired of her game as soon as you decide to play along, she changes the subject. “Old Brehm is back, by the way, and about as grumpy as you can imagine. He wants us all to report to his office tomorrow morning. At six, nice and sharp. No snoozing allowed!”

You slump a little lower in your chair, letting out a grim sigh at the news. You're sure that it must be something important, to gather you all up for a meeting, but does it really have to be so early?

“I know, you must be thrilled. But... ah, that's not the only thing that's weighing on your mind, is it?” Persephone muses, studying you closely, “Go on, you can tell me. Don't you know how sensitive and caring I can be?”

Now that's the real joke. “Not now, okay?” you tell her, shaking your head, “It's too much of a mess right now.”

She considers this before, to your surprise, nodding. “Very well then,” she agrees simply, “As you please.”

[1/2]

>>5695971

Just as you're allowing yourself a tiny sigh of relief, Persephone hits you with a wicked grin. “Of course, if I'm going to be so generous with my discretion, don't you think it's fair that I get something in return?” she remarks, “And it just so happens that I've got something you could help me with, so this all works out splendidly!”

“Hang on, I don't remember agreeing to this,” you warn, “I don't remember signing anything.”

“Now, I have this... well, I won't call her a friend. An associate, a professional contact if you will, in another cohort. She was looking to organise a fun little day out for her team, as a way to celebrate getting their fake promotions,” she continues, completely ignoring your objections, “The problem is, she's simply clueless when it comes to things like this, and asked me for help. One idea she had was to visit the great temple of Sheol, and-”

“Wait,” you interrupt, “That was her idea of a FUN day out?”

“I said she was clueless, didn't I?” Persephone shrugs, “And some people get off on that whole “religious awe” thing for some reason. I suggested something a little more classy – there's an art gallery in town that comes rather highly recommended, so-”

“And that's YOUR idea of a fun day out?” you remark with a laugh.

“Well excuse me for having some semblance of taste!” she shoots back, pouting enormously at you, “Okay then, wise guy. What would YOU do?”

Shit. You hadn't thought that far ahead. “Johannes and Harriet seemed to like visiting the ivy district,” you suggest after a pause, “It sounds classy. As classy as you can get while drinking overpriced wine, at least.”

“Hmm, maybe. It definitely has potential,” Persephone admits, “And it would be rather amusing to hear what kind of disasters they get up to with a little wine in them...”

“There you go then, something for everyone,” you decide, “So was that it, you just wanted some ideas?”

“Oh no, that's not even half of what I need you for. We can't just give her some untested ideas and hope for the best, now can we?” she shakes her head, “I can't recommend anything until I've had a chance to try it out for myself – and since this is a group activity, I can't very well go alone, can I?”

So that's what this is all about. After the miserable day you've had, you're not really sure if you've got the energy to be fooling around like this. Especially with a criminally early start tomorrow. You try and think of a few excuses, all while Persephone waits expectantly on your answer.

>I'm not in the mood right now. I can't help
>We should try the temple. We can see if there's anything fun there
>We could visit this art gallery of yours
>I still think the ivy district is the best place to start
>I've got another idea... (Write in)
>Other

>>5695973
>Not sure how much help I’ll be after today, but I can try.
>I still think the ivy district is the best place to start

>>5695973
>We could visit this art gallery of yours
The only thing that tends to happen in art galleries is massive revelations.

if we see scenes of a lady with blue hair, we really need to run.

A thought occurs. You said that you weren't going to mope around, to sulk about things, and now here's a chance to get off your ass and do something. It might not be something tremendously productive, but it doesn't need to be. So long as it's a distraction, it'll do the job. So, meeting Persephone's eyes, you nod. “I don't know how much of a help I might be after today,” you tell her, “But I'm in.”

“Ah, teasing me again with this mysterious burden of yours?” Persephone replies, her eyes twinkling, “You're too cruel, leaving me in suspense like this. I'll get it out of you eventually, just you wait!”

You're going to pretend you didn't hear that. “So, you've narrowed the options down to the capital. That makes things simple,” you decide, “That way, we can always have a backup plan if our first idea works out. We could start with this art gallery of yours, then stop off at the ivy district if there's enough time later. Make a proper day of it.”

“I'm glad to hear that you're taking this seriously,” she replies with a coy smile, “If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you might have an ulterior motive.”

There's a word for that, you think to yourself. Projection.

-

The Marlow Gallery, so named after some long-dead patron, is not large, and tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. Without knowing what to look for, you're certain that you'd never be able to find it for yourself. Judging by the way Persephone leads you there without hesitation, though, you'd say that she's a frequent visitor – which is odd, considering that she's only recently been granted authorisation to leave the academy as she pleases.

Entering into the cool darkness of the gallery is a massive relief, compared with the hot afternoon sun outside, even if it does leave you stumbling around in blackness before your eyes finally adjust. The first thing you see upon entering is a tall, grandiose statue of the First Regent, carved entirely from white marble. You've seen paintings and sketches of the First Regent before, but none of them ever really looked very similar. Approximations of a figure from history, tales told second-hand. The statue, though... it might actually be an original.

To think, that such a thing could be resting in a quiet, half-forgotten art gallery!

“You know, if I was the Regent and I was paying for a statue like this...” Persephone muses, looking it up and down, “I'd tell the sculptor to be a little more generous.”

You look down, following her gaze, then hurriedly look away. “I think it's a stylistic choice,” you suggest, “Either that, or the artist didn't want to spend long on sculpting a-”

“Never mind that silly old prick, you've got to see this!” she interrupts, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you into the main room at the centre of the gallery. There, taking up almost the entire wall, is the most beautiful mural you've ever seen.

[1]

>>5695996

The mural is a landscape, depicting a vast city of pale stone rising up from the tundra. At times, it's hard to tell where the snow ends and the stone begins, making it seem almost organic. Each tower and spire has been painted with astonishing detail, down to the individual window and flame. Above the city, a great canopy of stars stretches out through the night sky – centre of it all is the Silver Chariot, the constellation recreated in perfect detail.

It's an impossible miracle, too grand to be painted from mere imagination and yet too perfect to be real. Such a thing could never be, yet the sight invokes a terrible longing in you – a yearning to see the city with your own eyes.

“The forbidden city of Shang-Han,” Persephone breathes, staring at the mural with rapt eyes, “You know the history, don't you?”

“I know the legends,” you correct her.

“If you prefer it that way,” she concedes, tilting her head in a sly nod, “A city so great, so grand, that the spirits coveted it for themselves and plucked it from our world. Or so they say. I always heard the stories when I was growing up – my village wasn't all that far from where it used to stand.”

“But there's no proof that it ever actually existed,” you point out, “There are ruins in the north, signs of previous life, but nothing on this scale. Nothing like this.”

“Of course not. Because the spirits took it all for themselves. Of course, that was before the Accord,” she dismisses your scepticism with a casual wave of her hand, “But it still exists, you know, on their side of the Veil.”

You never imagined that she would be such an ardent believer in a children's story, but you won't judge. Not much, at least. You stand before the mural for a long while before reluctantly pulling away to take a look through the rest of the gallery, but you can tell that her heart isn't in it. She's seen everything she wanted to see.

“So?” you ask as you're getting ready to leave, “What do you think?”

“No, it's not right,” Persephone decides, “It would be wasted on them. I want to keep this place special, just my little secret. We'll try the ivy district, shall we?”

You nod, casting one last look at the mural before you go. As you do, a sudden thought strikes you. The necromancer cult in Greyridge – their cave paintings had shown the Silver Chariot too.

-

You're starting to lose the daylight when you arrive at the ivy district, but that just makes it all the better. The roof gardens are lit with elegant paper lanterns, countless tiny flames casting a warm glow over the whole area. The buildings themselves are beautiful too, decorated with intricate ironwork that has grown thick with the ivy that gives the district its name.

There's already a hushed murmur of conversation in the air as the gardens start to fill up, along with a gentle music from somewhere. It all feels very... expensive.

[2/3]

>>5696004

Picking one of the rooftop gardens at random, you ordering some wine with the same perfect care and hand across a few coins. You've been getting a stipend since you started your training, but you've had few chances to really spend any of it since then. Just this once, you think you can indulge a little. Taking the bottle of wine to a table in the shade, you pour out two glasses and hand one across.

“So,” you begin, “This friend of yours. Sorry, this “professional contact” of yours, I mean. Anyone I know?”

“I doubt it. You're not exactly a social butterfly, are you?” Persephone teases, “No, she came to be a while ago with some silly little questions about a guardian spirit. Since I happen to be something of an expert in the subject, I was gracious enough to answer some of them. Some of my answers, in fact, may even have been truthful.”

“How gracious.”

“I know!” she remarks with glee, “Really, I should be getting a medal for all the good deeds I do around here. But I'm far too modest for something like that anyway. I do it for the pride of a job well done.”

It takes a special kind of person to consider a mix of lies and half-truths to be a job well done, but that's exactly the kind of person she is.

“So,” Persephone continues, taking a sip of her wine, “Are you ready to tell me about this miserable day of yours yet?”

You're not sure if you'll ever be ready for a thing like that. It seems like a very private thing to talk about, especially behind Clarissa's back like this. Not the sort of thing that you should treat like idle gossip. But then, with all the cold hostility that Clarissa's been showing you since then...

>Tell Persephone about the incident with the guardian spirit
>Don't tell Persephone about the incident with the guardian spirit
>Other

>>5696009
>I would tell you to get the story from Clarissa, but that might do more harm than good.
>What do you know about spirits of death as guardian spirits?

>>5696009
>Don't tell Persephone about the incident with the guardian spirit

Let her know that we'll tell her if it starts to cause issues, but it isn't really on us to explain.

>>5696009
>Other
Forgive me for leaving out a lot of details but its a bit of a private thing. Long story very short, I hurt Clarissa's trust in me by stopping her from doing something I thought would hurt her.

>>5696009
>Tell Persephone about the incident with the guardian spirit

Buying yourself a little more time to think, you take a sip of your wine and then pretend to study the bottle. When it becomes clear that Persephone isn't going to just magically forget about the conversation, you set the bottle down with a sigh. “It's... difficult,” you begin, “It's not really my place to tell you about it. I'd tell you to ask Clarissa herself, but... that might cause more harm than good.”

“Is that so?” Persephone toys with her glass, running one finger around the rim before taking another drink, “The two of you, all alone up in that dreary monastery...”

“Don't start, okay? It's nothing like that,” you warn, shaking your head, “She was going to do something dangerous, something I thought might hurt her, and I stopped her. But it really broke her trust in me. That's all I'm saying. You'll forgive me for leaving out the fine details, but it's a private matter – and still a sensitive one.”

She considers this for a moment, listening carefully as the first few notes of a new song are played. The song is light, jaunty, and you see more than a few people getting up to dance along. Reaching some decision, Persephone grabs your hand and drags you to your feet. “Come on, let's join in!” she urges, laughing as you struggling against her grip, “You're not afraid of having a little fun, are you?”

“I'm not much of a dancer,” you protest, although you find yourself allowing her to pull you along. Dancing might not be your best skill, but it's better than a difficult conversation. It doesn't seem that hard anyway, most of the other couples are just twirling around at random. The music picks up the pace as you follow along with the other couples, feeling Persephone press herself close up against you as you spin around.

The song doesn't last long, but it quickly builds to a furious pace before the last notes are struck out. Persephone laughs again, twirling away from you even after the music stops. “I love dancing!” she cries out, a simple joy in her voice. Eventually, you manage to coax her back to your table and get her to sit. “I always used to dance at home,” she explains, “It was a tradition we had, you know. Ritual dances to please the spirits – although I didn't care about any of that then. I just loved to play around in the snow. I'd dance until I could barely stand.

“Sounds cute,” you reply, picturing a tiny version of Persephone spinning around until she falls over, “Shame about the way you turned out.”

“You're so mean!” Persephone gasps, her eyes wide with mock horror. “But, you know, there must have been some truth to it,” she adds in a lower voice, “That's when I saw my first spirit, when I was dancing. Since that day, I've been...”

But her voice trails off here. “Been what?” you prompt.

“Dancing to someone else's tune,” she finishes, giving you a strangely humourless smile.

[1]

>>5696023

You stay until the last of the wine is finished, although Persephone never tries to get you dancing again. Once seems to have been enough for her. Instead you spend the evening in an easy silence, broken only by the occasional comment passed between you. It's only when you're pouring the last of the wine into your glass that you think to ask. “Maybe you can give me the benefits of that vast wisdom of yours,” you begin, “A spirit of Death as a guardian. What do you know about that?”

“It sounds terribly unlucky, if you ask me. Maybe not for the person themselves, but everyone around them. Would YOU like to be living with someone who has a cloud of death hanging over their head all the time?” Persephone shrugs, “It's awfully rare, from what I've gathered. Most people – most civilised people – are joined with spirits of Essence, like ours. Joining together a living being and a spirit of Death like that? Asking for trouble, if you ask me. And you DID ask me.”

“And you answered me,” you agree, “How gracious.”

“Some of it might have been true,” she adds with a coy wink.

-

Persephone links arms with you as you walk back to the academy, taking great care to keep her steps measured and precise. You're both a little worse for wear, but it's nothing serious – you only shared a single bottle of wine, after all. Still, she's taking advantage of the situation while she can. “Well then,” you murmur as you arrive back at the dorm, “That friend of yours. What do you think?”

“Oh. I don't actually care,” Persephone shrugs, “I didn't really want to help her that much. But you looked so miserable, when you came in, that I thought you might appreciate a chance to do something fun. I know I certainly did.”

“Ah. Well... thanks?” you reply, “It was nice to get out and see the city, I suppose. You could've just said that to begin with, though.”

“Being honest?” she lets out a small gasp of horror, “Where would be the fun in that?”

-

Master Brehm's office isn't large, and it feels unbelievably cramped with all six of you crammed in together. Standing in a line in front of the seated man, you occasionally glance across to Clarissa at the opposite end of the room. She doesn't move a muscle, her jaw set in a hard line. Persephone stands next to her, and that alone leaves you feeling on the verge of disaster.

“Well then!” Master Brehm announces suddenly, causing you all to jump in surprise, “It's nice to get an early start sometimes, don't you think?”

Was that aimed at you? You're fairly sure that was aimed at you.

“I'll save the pleasantries for later, just to keep this brief,” the old man continues, his voice growing serious, “I've recently uncovered some information, some potential leads that need to be followed up. Now that you're all... now that most of you are qualified, we can cover a lot more ground. I hope you're all ready for some hard work!”

[2/3]

>>5696028

“First of all, we've uncovered a potential lead on a group of unlawful occultists. I think you all know what that means,” Master Brehm continues, “I want to send a team to investigate. This is purely a scouting mission at this stage – rooting the bastards out can come later, once we know exactly what we're dealing with. Even so, it may be-”

“I'll do it,” Clarissa interrupts.

Master Brehm pauses, a little irked by the disturbance. “Very well. I'll give you the details later,” he tells her, “And I'll leave the choice of a partner up to you.”

“There's no need for that,” she replies, with a slight shake of her head, “I'll go alone. I don't need anyone else.”

A long silence follows this, Master Brehm's hard gaze fixed on her. “We'll talk about this later,” he says eventually, “As for the rest of you. We've been in discussions with a private scholar in order to get access to a certain rare book. He's agreed for a group to visit his manor and study the book in person, in return for certain... favours. Head office are still discussing the offer but, assuming we get the clearance, I'd like to bring the whole cohort. Our very first joint operation, doesn't that sound grand?”

“Sounds like trouble,” Johannes mutters, loud enough for you all to hear.

“You'll be the first ones to know when everything is organised. Until then, just keep doing what you're doing,” Master Brehm concludes, “That'll be all for now, you can go. Oh, and Lucas? If you could stay a little more, I need to talk with you.”

You wait patiently, and a little bit nervously, as the others leave. When it's just the two of you, Master Brehm sighs and takes a slip of paper from his desk. “We've got a lot to discuss,” he begins, “But first, before I forget, there's an assignment here for you. Very important people seem to think you're the perfect man for the job.”

“I see,” you pause, “What's the job?”

“We don't know!” the old man says with a hearty laugh, “We've got word from the south – something washed up there, and there's been trouble with the Forest Kingdom ever since. Well, “trouble” might be stretching it – mostly just Kingdom men spotted loitering around outside the town, scaring the locals. But they want to know why, and thought we'd be able to help. It's not exactly our job – it sounds like they're dealing with a body of some kind, not a spirit – but nobody else knows what to do either. So we're stuck with it, and that means YOU'RE stuck with it.”

How perfectly delightful. “I'll... see what I can do,” you reply weakly.

“Grand. Do be on your best behaviour – very important people and all that,” Master Brehm nods, “Now. Your partner – I'll leave that one to you. I trust that you're not going to go lone wolf on me too, are you?”

Your partner, you decide, should be...

>Johannes
>Persephone
>Harriet
>You'll go alone

>>5696037
>Persephone

>>5696037
>Johannes

>>5696037
>Harriet
take the black cloud for a spin

>>5696037
>Persephone

>>5696037
>Persephone

“I'll bring Persephone,” you decide after a moment's thought, “So what else can you tell me about this mission?”

“Very little, actually. There hasn't been any indication that the Veil is damaged, or the local spirits are unsettled. Their letter didn't describe the remains themselves, which seems like a rather important thing to include but what do I know?” Master Brehm shrugs, “In all honesty, there's not much that we can do either. Just take a look, tell them not to panic, and move on. I think the Forest Kingdom involvement is what really bothers them.”

“And that's why I was picked,” you sigh, “Of course it was. I keep telling people, I'm not-”

“Not actually from the Forest Kingdom, I know,” Master Brehm gives you a weary nod, “These people are very important, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're intelligent. Humour them, will you?”

That's easy for him to say.

“There were a number of things I wanted to talk to you about. Sit down, my boy, you're making me tired just watching you stand there!” he urges, waving a hand at the single empty chair. It's only after you've sat down that he continues. “Your tower at Penn's Garden,” the old man says, “I'll admit that it was a little more of an adventure than I had been expecting, but we got the results we wanted.”

“We lit the beacon and waited in ambush, but we weren't able to take any of the cultists alive. Mostly because of their leader – the bastard had a guardian spirit, turned it on us and his own men once he realised how dire his situation was,” Master Brehm says with a humourless laugh, “Unfortunately for him, the spirit couldn't do much to stop a bullet in the chest. It was our burned friend.”

“...One of the cultists from Ravensheugh?” you recall, gesturing to your face and ear, “Him?”

“Unless there's an awful lot of these deformed freaks, yes,” he nods, “Before the fighting started, they mentioned having friends in a nearby town – but that's Clarissa's job now. Once we know what we're dealing with, we can send in the troops.”

You grimace. “Are you really going to let Clarissa go alone?” you ask quietly, “Even if she doesn't engage directly...”

“I'll talk to her. See if I can't talk her out of it,” Master Brehm assures you, “Damn fool idea of hers, running off on her own as if she's got something to prove. I'll get her to see sense. Leave that with me – there was something else, since we're talking about Ravensheugh. Do you remember the priest there?”

“He died, but he was never replaced,” you remember, nodding to yourself, “The locals petitioned for a new priest, but there wasn't anyone sent out.”

“I've reached out to a contact in the bureaucracy, to see exactly what happened there. The request was received, but it was somehow... overlooked,” the old man raised an eyebrow, “A minor clerical error, they told me.”

Really now.

[1]

>>5696067
I don't know if Brehm read the report yet but Nicholas' village also needs a new priest

>>5696067

“I won't tell you how hard it was just getting them to admit that. Officially, as you know, the bureaucracy does not make mistakes,” Master Brehm lets out a snort of bitter laugher, “Lucas, my boy, I can't tell you how much I envy you sometimes – you're too young to worry about politics. Me, on the other hand... I feel like I'm spending more time on playing the game than I do serving the academy.”

“Is it possible that this... error was a deliberate act?” you ask quietly, “If someone within the bureaucracy wanted Ravensheugh to be without a priest...”

“Oh yes, they'd be in the perfect position to make sure the request went unanswered. I tried to dig a little deeper, but I ran up against a solid wall,” he scowls, “It seems that my name carries rather less weight than it used to. Ah, but you don't want to hear the complaints of an old man like me – I'm sure you're just dying to let Persephone know the good news.”

“I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear what we'll be dealing with,” you agree with a nod. Just as you're starting to leave, though, Master Brehm raises a hand to stop you.

“There's one other thing. It may just be a coincidence, but I don't like leaving these things to chance. Given our investigations, I think it's worth mentioning – some of the men we ambushed were from the Forest Kingdom as well. I'm sure of it,” he tells you, “If the Forest Kingdom are sheltering necromancers, that's going to complicate things for all of us. More politics to give us all a headache!”

The Forest Kingdom is allowed to operate with near-total independence, despite being within Marusia's borders. Yet, that comes with a responsibility to maintain some standard of law and order – at least where the Accord is concerned. If they were found to be breaching their agreement, it would give the Regent a whole other problem to consider.

“Oh, and I've had a chance to read your last two reports. No complaints from me, although it's a shame about Falkenrath. He had friends in the academy – some of those very important people we were talking about. That's it from me. You're dismissed,” Master Brehm concludes, looking up at you as if surprised that you're still here, “Or was there something else?”

>No, nothing else. I'll go
>There was something... (Write in)
>Other

>>5696087
>There was something... (Write in)
The Silver Chariot connection between the cultists and Shang-Han. Might be nothing, could be something.

>>5696087
>>5696090 +1

>>5696087
>>5696090
this.

Also of the Sun seals and the monks not knowing anything about harriet's psuedo-spirit.

>>5696087
>>5696090
worth a mention

“There was something, actually,” you add, a slight smile finding its way onto your face, “It may just be a coincidence, but I don't like leaving these things to chance.”

“Oh yes, very funny,” Master Brehm groans, “Out with it, then.”

“Back in Greyridge, I saw a cave painting of some stars. The Silver Chariot. Just recently, I saw a mural with the same constellation,” you explain quickly, “It showed the stars high above Shang-Han. I don't know if there's a connection there, but it seems... possible.”

Master Brehm considers this for a moment before giving you a bitter smile. “You're ahead of the curve, my boy. Most people are in the job for a lot longer than this before they start seeing patterns. It'll drive you mad, if you let it,” he warns, “The Silver Chariot... hm. A strange thing for necromancers to fixate on. If I remember my legends, the Silver Chariot was supposed to bring travellers from OUR world into the spirit world – but not the other way around. It was a one way trip. But these bastards, they want to drag something back across the Veil.”

“That's what we're assuming,” you suggest, “Unless the necromancy itself is just a means to some greater end. Something... worse.”

Something far worse. Bad enough, perhaps, to warrant an eternal punishment within Sheol's machine.

“Lucas, my boy, you're always so bright and cheerful!” the old man laughs, “What do you mean, something worse?”

“There's some research I've been working on. I'll write up a full report, of course, but I... we found reference to some odd spirits. Dangerous spirits, I mean, that were somehow imprisoned – sealed away so that they couldn't harm people or escape into the spirit world,” you tell him, “The Stonecutter was one such spirit, but someone had damaged the seal. It was free, and it had been damaging the Veil. What if it's more than just the Stonecutter?”

Master Brehm's lips draw tight. “And to what end?” he asks quietly, all humour gone now, “To collapse the Veil entirely?”

“Maybe. I don't know. If we can get one of these cultists and make them talk, we might finally get some answers,” you shake your head, “But in the meantime, I wanted to talk to you about Harriet. At the monastery, Roerich mentioned something – he hadn't heard of anyone else like her, with an aura like that. He couldn't explain it.”

Slowly, he nods. “Keep close to her,” the old man orders, “She trust you, Lucas. Make sure it stays that way. You're not the only one asking questions about her.”

“Those very important people?”

He nods again, his expression growing grim, but he doesn't say anything more on the subject. Taking the sheet of paper from his desk, he passes it across to you. “Your new assignment,” he explains, “The details are all there. Do have fun – I hear that the south is lovely at this time of year.”

[1]

>>5696118
Hm. Maybe we should have brought Harriet after all... But Persephone did us a solid and clearly wants to spend time together, so either way.

if Cloranthy had the authorization, she'd have loved to attend to a Forest Kingdom-related task

>>5696137
Might be worth pulling aside Johannes and giving him what little we know about Harriet's spirit friend if he is going to be partnered up with her.

>>5696140
Good thinking!

>>5696118

“So let me just make sure I understand,” Persephone begins, “We're expected to travel down south to investigate some vile, decaying remains, all the while dealing with a gang of rowdy locals. Is that about correct?”

“It hits all the major points, yes,” you agree, “And you're the first person that came to mind.”

“That, I assume, was intended as some kind of peculiar compliment,” she pauses, “In which case, thank you. But also, you're a lunatic.”

That, you assume, was meant as some kind of peculiar compliment. “Anyway, you'd best pack some extra supplies. We'll probably be on the road for a day or so, and that's just the journey down south. The road curves right around the border of the Forest Kingdom, but that's going to add to our travel time. Certainly better than cutting straight through, at least,” you admit with a faint shudder, “Safer, at least.”

“Oh, does that mean we might pass your home town? How charming!” the pale girl muses, the idea bringing a grin to her face, “We could stop and pay a visit!”

“Absolutely not. We're travelling for business, remember? That means we can't just stop anywhere we like,” you scold, hastily adding, “And anyway, my home town was... the other side of the Forest Kingdom. Totally different part of the world.”

There's absolutely no chance that she believes your lame attempt at a lie, but she feigns understanding anyway. Somehow, that just makes it all the worse. With one last secretive smile – the kind of smile that someone might give a co-conspirator – Persephone vanishes into her room to start packing. You turn towards your door, only to spot Johannes waiting for you.

“Don't worry,” he mutters, “I'll keep an eye on her while you're gone. Try and keep her out of trouble.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” you reply, pausing before adding, “...Keep WHO out of trouble?”

“Clarissa,” he grunts, “How many troublesome girls do you have in your life right now?”

“My life is nothing BUT troublesome girls right now.”

“Living the dream,” he drawls, starting to turn away before you call his name. Turning back, he gives you an impatient gesture.

“If you're going to be here with Harriet, or maybe even partnering up with her, there's something you should know,” you tell him, lowering your voice, “She's got some kind of... spirit. Not a guardian spirit, but not a case of possession either. It doesn't seem to cause her any problems, and I'm not even sure if she's aware of it, but... it's a puzzle. Nobody seems to know what it really is. So, you know, watch out.”

Johannes just stares at you for a long moment. “This is why I said no women, before,” he mutters eventually, “Keeps things simple, that way.”

[2/3]

>>5696159

Later, as you're reading over the notes Master Brehm gave you, you find your thoughts wandering back to the Forest Kingdom. Your destination, the town of Usan, isn't exactly on the border of the Kingdom as your home town was, but it's close. Close enough that the people of the Kingdom can roam as they please, causing no end of concern to the townsfolk.

Of all the reasons to leave the forest, why this? Why would they be drawn by rumours of something being washed ashore in a nearby town? You know that there's no point in obsessing over the questions now, but they keep running through your mind on an endless loop. You need to focus on something practical, something productive. The town itself, perhaps.

If not for this strange arrival, Usan would be indistinguishable from any number of small fishing towns scattered up and down the coastline. A small, peaceful population watched over by an old and well-regarded guardian spirit – named in the notes as Alyth. Nothing to suggest any reason, aside from simple chance, for something to be washed ashore there. The local priest, a man named Brodie, was the one to send a request for aid. He's out of his depth, you can tell that without even setting eye on the town.

It feels like you've spent years running from this damn forest. Now, you're going back.

-

“You've got everything you need for the trip? You've not forgotten anything?” Harriet asks, looking you up and down, “I always forget something when I'm going anywhere. Even if I just needed to pack two different things, I'd forget one of them. That's how bad I am.”

“Calm down,” Johannes scolds, “The way you're carrying on, you'd think he was going to the colonies. Back within a week at the most, probably not even that.”

“I know that!” she protests, “But STILL.” Giving you one last look over, and apparently satisfied with what she sees, Harriet pulls you into a quick hug – you wouldn't mind, but all you can imagine is the cloud of darkness surrounding you, choking you. Perhaps she senses something, because Harriet pulls hurriedly away. “Sorry. I'm just holding you up here,” she blurts out, “Oh gosh, just ignore me. Go on, go!”

“I'll be back,” you assure her, the sudden outburst of emotion leaving you lost for words, “Week at the most, not even that.”

You hope.

>I'm going to take a pause here. I'm planning to continue tomorrow as well, starting at the same kind of time as today
>Thank you for reading along today!

>>5696182
Thanks for running. See you for the extra session tomorrow.

>>5696182
Thanks for running!

“Having given significant thought to the matter, I've come to one simple conclusion,” Persephone muses, looking around the dismal room, “The simple life is vastly overrated.”

“What, you don't like this? I thought you'd relish a chance to get away from the capital,” you joke, examining a rather unsavoury looking stain on the bedsheets, “Get away from the... how did you put it, the “common herd”, I believe?”

“The common masses, I said. And while I do appreciate that aspect of it, I offer one counter argument,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “Proper sanitation.”

Well, you can't exactly argue with that. You've been on the road for a full day now, with most of your journey to Usan now behind you, but nightfall put an end to your travels for the day. You sought refuge in one of the numerous waystations sited along the great southern road, but the conditions are turning out to be... less than you might otherwise desire. It is, technically, a roof over your head and a bed to rest in, but not much more than that.

You're close to the Forest Kingdom here, close enough that you can feel its oppressive weight pressing on your thoughts. On the last stretch of your ride, you were so close to the border that you could see, on occasion, shadowy figures moving within the treeline. Some of the trees had been marked out with lengths of white rope, drawing a very literal border between your world and theirs. Beyond that white line, the Sun King's authority would mean nothing at all.

“Life must seem very simple here,” Persephone says suddenly, “All this way from the capital, and all the schemes festering there. Out here, you could just live your life one day at a time – no great ideas, no taxing ambitions, none of it.”

But the way she says it, she makes it sound like a terrible thing – a fate worse than death, almost.

“Growing up, I always knew that there were greater things waiting out there. That there was more to life than just making it through the day. We were all like that, in a way. Looking for something more, something TRUE. Do you know what I saw, when I first came to the capital?” she interrupts, finally sitting down on her bed with a faint grimace of distaste, “I saw a puzzle just waiting to be solved, a game just waiting to be won... but that's all. Nothing true, nothing REAL.”

You realise, then, that she's just done the rarest of things – she's said something completely honest, completely sincere. Faced with such a thing, you're left searching for something to say. “Nothing real?” you repeat, inwardly wincing at how banal your words must seem, “Really?”

“Well, that was then. This is now,” she replies vaguely, her fickle nature returning in an instant, “Things have changed since then. I've seen a lot of things, met a lot of people... and some of them might actually mean something. Just not many.”

[1/2]

>>5696638

“Do you ever think about the future?” Persephone asks then, the change in subject coming so fast that it leaves your head spinning.

“I... try not to,” you admit, “Less stressful that way.”

She laughs at this, clearly pleased with herself. “I mean, we're not going to be with the academy forever. At least, I certainly don't intend to be. This is all just a means to an end, a chance to make names for ourselves,” she explains, “It's what happens after that that really matters. Putting all that leverage to good use. So? What would you do?”

You consider this for a moment before shaking your head and saying, “You first.”

“Isn't it obvious?” she replies, “I'm going to worm my way into the palace and scheme to my heart's content. Playing the game for power and influence, working my way to the top... I'm finally going to solve that puzzle I saw when I first came to the capital.”

“Even though it's not... real?”

“Of course. Why should that matter? Nothing else means anything, so why shouldn't I do what amuses me most?” she laughs, shrugging away your doubts, “Your turn now, and you'd better not disappoint me!”

Turning away, you cast your thoughts ahead and try to imagine the sort of future that might await you. It's hard enough to guess what MIGHT happen, let alone what you WANT to happen. Contrary to what Persephone says, you largely imagined yourself staying at the academy for as long you were needed. But is that really what you want, or because it's the path of least resistance? Most Exorcists end up as priests or instructors, assuming they don't get drawn into the poisonous game of palace politics. Are any of those what you really want, though?

>I'm not making any plans. I'll just take things as they come
>I could see myself as an instructor, passing down my knowledge to the next generation
>I might end up as a priest, provided I can find a suitable spirit to serve
>I can see the appeal of entering the palace too, actually
>Other

>>5696639
>Burning the FUCK out of the Forest Kingdom.
>I'm kidding. Maybe.
>I wouldn't mind touring the kingdom for all the Sun Seals. Sounds like a great tour guide of all the awful places to die.

>>5696639
>might end up as a priest

>>5696639
>Other
The next Regent. (Just kidding) (Unless...)

>I'm not making any plans. I'll just take things as they come
Playing it by ear. World might be a different place very quickly with how things are going

>>5696639
>>I'm not making any plans. I'll just take things as they come

“Long term plans?” you think aloud, “That's a tough one. I was thinking of becoming the next Regent. That shouldn't be too hard, right?”

“Ah, is that so?” Persephone's eyes widen with excitement, “Then you might have me to contend with. I've got my eyes on the top job too, you know!”

“Bullshit. We've never had a female Regent before, for one thing. The people just wouldn't stand for it,” you argue, “Besides, you'd probably hate it – it's too much like hard work.”

“Hm, maybe. I'll tell you what – you can be Regent, and handle all that hard work, while I rule in secret. As far as the public needs to know, I would simply be your trustworthy advisor. It's the perfect plan,” she explains, giving you a sly smile, “Just try and find a flaw. One single flaw, I dare you.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “I can think of one. One tiny little flaw,” you say slowly, “I don't ACTUALLY want to be Regent.”

“Foiled again!” Persephone laughs, slapping her fist into the palm of her hand in a fit of mock anger.

“But seriously? I don't see much point in making plans just yet. I'll probably just take things as they come,” you tell her slowly, your voice growing a little more serious, “I might travel a bit more. There's a lot of this land that I'd like to see – holy sites, places of power, that kind of thing. Go on a tour of all the sun seals, just to make a list of all the horrible ways to die.”

“Sounds perfectly delightful,” she drawls, “Sun seals?”

Oh right.

“It's a long story. I'll explain tomorrow,” you tell her, holding back a sudden yawn, “It'll give us something to talk about on the ride, means I don't need to keep thinking about that damn forest. Oh, how's this for a life goal – I could burn the whole thing to the ground. That way, I'd never have to think about it ever again.”

“...That was a joke, by the way,” you add hastily, just as you see an excited light flash across Persephone's eyes. She pouts, flopping down on her stained bed and turning to face the opposite wall. With all interest in the conversation having faded, you lie down on your own bed and wait for sleep – and whatever dreams might come with it.

-

Leaving with an early sunrise, you start out along the last leg of your journey. Assuming no disasters, you should arrive at Usan by noon or thereabouts. Enough time for you to make a good start with your investigation before nightfall, you hope. You explain the Sun King's seals to Persephone as you ride, although sometimes you wonder if she's really interested.

Later, as you draw close to Usan, you spot a cluster of crude hide tents up ahead. Slowing your horse as you pass them by, you spot a single man standing guard. He has the facial tattoos of a deep forest native, although he carries a modern army rifle in a familiar grip – a strange contradiction to see here. The guard watches you closely as you ride by, but makes no move to stop you.

[1]

>>5696657

They're certainly taking things seriously in Usan, even if they don't exactly have much to work with – the outer edge of town has been fortified with some crude wooden fences, sharpened stakes thrust into the ground at points. The makeshift barricades are guarded – after a fashion – by a few loitering locals. You're not sure what they'd achieve if there was some kind of attack, aside from perhaps slowing the invaders down for a moment.

But if it makes them feel better...

Before you've made it very far into the town, you see what must be Brodie, the priest, rushing out to meet you. He's younger than you expected, although he's clearly made an attempt to grow a suitably authoritative beard. “Hello, hello. You're from the academy?” he begins, offering you a hand as you dismount, “I'm glad they sent someone. I wasn't sure if they would, considering the... nature of our problem.”

“I gather that nobody really knows what to do about it,” you agree, “So we're here to try and figure it out. You've been having trouble with the Forest Kingdom too, yes?”

“Trouble, yes. That's one way to put it. I don't know how they learned about it, but they showed up the day after that... thing washed up here. They just said that they wanted to take a look at it first, but we turned them away. They haven't left us alone since then,” Brodie explains, waving for you to follow as he leads you into the small, modest temple, “Now, they're demanding the remains – not just to see them, but to take them away.”

“Why not just let them?” Persephone asks, “Then you can officially say that it's their problem.”

“They have no authority to be making demands of us!” Brodie argues, an unconvincing anger spiking in his voice, “Not here. Not outside the forest. Until I understand what we're dealing with, I'm loathe to simply had the remains over. Especially when I don't know what kind of... unholy dealings they must want them for.”

He probably should have just asked them in the first place, and saved everyone a lot of trouble. “I assume that you're aware of the camp outside town,” you add, “Is that them?”

“Aye. And the blasted woman leading them,” Brodie grimaces, “In all honesty, I'd sooner just burn the remains and be done with it. It might yet come to that. But there's a doctor in town, Ossler, who's been arguing for a dissection. He's been examining the remains, but he hasn't made much progress yet. He'll be down at the beach, if you're looking for him, with the remains themselves. But, ah, I'll let you get to work. You're the experts here, after all.”

As much as anyone can be in expect in something like this. Now, where to start?

>Head down to the beach to examine the remains themselves
>Visit the forester encampment to hear their side of the story
>Focus on the town itself, check for any abnormal spiritual activity
>Ask a few more questions here... (Write in)
>Other

>>5696665
>Head down to the beach to examine the remains themselves
>Have Persephone focus on the town itself, check for any abnormal spiritual activity
Divide and conquer

>>5696665

seconding >>5696666
Let her cause whatever trouble she wants, she should be smart enough not to get shot.

>>5696665
>>5696666+1

“Just sit tight here, and we'll see what we can do,” you tell the young priest, guiding Persephone a few paces away, “I'm going down to the beach to take a look at these remains, but I'd like you to check out the rest of the town. I want to rule out any kind of spiritual anomaly – if there's anything like that around here, I know you'll be able to sniff it out.”

“Oh dear, you mean I won't get to play around with the decaying remains?” Persephone laments, “How will I ever cope with this tragedy?”

“I'll save some for you later,” you promise, “Just don't cause too much trouble, okay? I might need some time to think, and I don't want any gunfights to disturb me.”

Persephone just gives you a wink, turning away with a swagger to start on her side of the investigation.

-

There's a strong smell of fish in the air down by the shore, along with a stronger, stranger odour. Not the smell of rot or decay, you notice, or at least not rotting flesh. If anything, it's an oddly mossy smell like decaying vegetation. Either way, the smell is strong enough to have chased away all but the hardiest of fishermen – and the doctor, by the looks of things. But you barely pay any attention to him, with your eye drawn straight to the remains themselves.

They're... big. Bigger than you had been expecting. More than twice the length of a tall man, you'd guess, and curiously shapeless. The remains have an oily sheen to them, the bleached white flesh glistening wetly despite the long hours spent out in the sun. Covering your nose and mouth with one hand, you creep a little closer for a better look. The fleshy substance is smooth, featureless, with no indication of which end is the head – if it even has such a thing.

“Strangest thing I've ever seen,” Doctor Ossler remarks as you draw close, “Not even close. Strangest thing that anyone here has seen, I'd guess.”

Here, you think to yourself, could mean a lot of things in this case – the village, the region, the whole damn nation even.

“Brodie said that you wanted to perform a dissection,” you begin, reluctantly kneeling down beside the remains. You reach out to touch them, hesitating until the doctor gives you a nod. The flesh is soft, pliable, and sticky to the touch. You stare at the colourless slime on your fingertips for a long moment before wiping it off on your breeches.

“Aye. We won't know much else until we get it open,” Ossler explains, “This layer here, I think it's something like a cocoon. An outer skin. The real creature is inside. See, feel here."

With tremendous reluctance, you reach out and touch where Ossler indicates. Pressing down on the pliable skin, you feel something firmer underneath it. What you're actually touching, though... you couldn't even begin to guess.

[1]

>>5696682

As you're wiping your hands clean again, you hear the soft sound of Ossler drawing a blade. You shoot him a look of warning, but he waves your glare away. "Just a little incision in the outer layer," he promises, "Just enough that we can see what we're dealing with. Unless Brodie has agreed to the full dissection?"

"Not yet," you tell him, hesitating for a second before nodding, "Just the outer layer. Just a small cut."

With a faintly unsavoury grin, Ossler sinks his knife into the pale flesh and carves a long slit open. More of the colourless fluid seeps out, and the peculiar smell grows more intense. Swallowing back a wave of nausea, you peel back the flap of flesh and peer inside. The body inside definitely has more of a defined shape to it, but even that isn't saying much. There's a ridge much like a shoulder, leading down into something that could be an upper arm, but the limb still seems partly fused with the long torso. The body seems to narrow towards a nub of a head, but you wouldn't be able to see much more without cutting away more of the outer membrane.

Drawing back, you sit in silence for a few seconds and think. "I have no idea what this is," you admit eventually.

"Aye," Ossler agrees with a nod, "I'm starting to see Brodie's point. Burn the damn thing and be done with it."

"The Forest Kingdom seems interested in it. Have they ever caused any trouble in town before?" you ask, taking a few steps away from the foul smelling body, "Anything at all?"

"Until now, they've mostly left us alone. The occasional bit of trade, but that's always been rare. Nothing to suggest they had any interest in the town at all, until this," Ossler strokes his moustache as he thinks, "I'm no expert, but I've heard a few of their stories. Nothing that ever mentioned anything like this, mind you. I'd go out there and ask them myself, if I didn't think they'd slit my throat in a blink."

"Have they actually threatened anyone?"

"Well... not that I know of. Not directly," the doctor shrugs, "But bringing weapons and setting up camp just outside of town... how else are we supposed to interpret it? Now they're demanding to take the remains for themselves, Sun alone knows why. Maybe they're hungry?"

The doctor laughs at his own joke, an unpleasant hoarse laugh that you could happily never hear again. If the foresters really are demanding the remains, there's no way of knowing how they might react if you destroyed or dissected them. Yet simply handing the remains over hardly seems much better – the idea seems vaguely dreadful, although you can't explain exactly why.

>You should just burn the remains and put an end to this
>You should see what the foresters have to say about this
>You should go ahead with the dissection next
>Other

>>5696697
>You should see what the foresters have to say about this
Do they have any claim on it?

>>5696697
>You should see what the foresters have to say about this

>>5696697
>You should see what the foresters have to say about this
I'm guessing we can already tell from spirit sight that there's nothing still alive inside, right?

>>5696710
Seconding this check. Also: ask Persephone what she's found, if anything. Then...

>>5696697
>You should see what the foresters have to say about this

"I'm going to see what the foresters have to say about this. I'd like to hear their side of the story," you decide, walking back to kneel by the remains, "No more cutting until I get back, is that clear?"

"Understood," Ossler says with a sullen sigh.

Before you leave, you take a moment to study the remains one more time. This time, you take a moment to focus and open your inner eye. Looking over the remains, you feel a fleeting sense of darkness and rushing waters, but nothing more. As far as your sight shows, the remains are nothing more than an empty vessel. Just meat.

-

Persephone catches up with you as you're heading for the edge of town. "Nothing to report," she whispers to you, "Although one of the locals treated me to some especially delicious grilled fish. I'll have to see if I can get the recipe before we leave..."

"And the local spirits?" you press, "Nothing there, too?"

"Nothing there, nothing at all. Angry natives aside, this is probably the nicest place we'll ever visit," she confirms, "I do hope you haven't done anything to put that at risk."

"Not yet," you assure her, watching as the forester guard raises his rifle in a warning gesture. You raise your hands, trying to make yourself look as harmless as possible as more of the forest natives emerge from their tents. Every single one of them is armed, either with a rifle or some kind of wicked looking blade. Feeling the weight of their glares, you slowly approach the encampment. Then, finally, their leader emerges.

When you heard that their leader was a woman, you had been expecting some crone – the kind of witch that you heard stories about as a child. But the woman who appears would hardly look out of place in the ranks of noble society, save perhaps for her abnormal height. She studies you both for a moment before a smile forms on her blood-red lips and she gestures for her warriors to lower their weapons.

"A son of the forest, and a daughter of the moon," she begins, her voice a husky murmur, "You would speak on behalf of these cowering sheep?"

Persephone tenses up slightly, her hand slipping down towards the dagger sheathed at her hip, but you gesture for her to stay calm. "We're just here to figure out what's going on," you answer, "We're not here to cause any trouble. I understand that you have some claim on the... remains here. Is that correct?"

She beckons you forwards with a finger, leading you back to her tent and slipping inside. Before you can follow her in, Persephone grabs your arm. "Guardian spirit," she whispers, her lips barely moving for how quiet her voice is, "It's hiding in her shadow. Don't let your guard down."

[1]

>>5696732

You nod carefully, then creep into the tent. A single lantern glows softly, casting a warm light about the dim surroundings. The woman is already seated, her eyes closed and her lips formed into a subtle smile. "Yes. I too have a guardian spirit," she says softly, "But I have no intention of using it against you."

She opens her eyes, and you see by their lack of focus that she's peering into both worlds. Unnerved, feeling oddly naked under that unfocused gaze, you fumble for something to say and settle for something simple. "I'm glad to hear it," you mutter, "May I ask your name?"

"I am Lady Sil Ellenghast, servant of the Great Mother and High Priestess of the Forest Kingdom," she purrs, "And you, sir. May I ask yours?"

"Lucas. Lucas Hearne," you reply immediately, "...And this is Persephone Cross."

It doesn't escape your notice that Lady Ellenghast didn't actually ask, but you thought it was safer to introduce Persephone. You could sense her seething from beside you – and you still can, really, with her rage only slightly subsided. "Lady Ellenghast," you continue, hoping to change the subject before disaster can truly strike, "My question still stands. These remains-"

"A child of the forest, hardly different to yourself. Yes, we would claim them as our own," Lady Ellenghast replies, "We simply wish to give them the respect they deserve. Nothing more than that."

"I feel the need to point out that it didn't come from the forest," Persephone says, her voice almost a snarl, "It came from the ocean. From the SEA. Your reach doesn't extend that far, does it?"

Although you're fairly sure that Persephone would be all too glad to throw Lady Ellenghast into the ocean.

Lady Ellenghast shrugs her shoulders, the lantern light glowing softly on the bare flesh. "The veins of the earth lead to many strange places, child, and rushing water can carry one far. But this is why I seek to return the child to its rightful home," she explains, "Is that so wrong? If you lost a friend, would you not wish for them to have a decent burial?"

Her eyes finally focus as she says this, sharpening down to pierce through you. All you can think about is Nicholas – Nicholas, who didn't even get the luxury of an unmarked grave. For a single paranoid moment, you wonder how she knew. But no, you tell yourself, she knows nothing. The question is common enough, and vague enough, for that.

"The priest wants to burn it," you suggest, saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"Naturally. That is all his kind ever wants," Lady Ellenghast sighs, "But I would be most... displeased if he was to do such a thing. Tell him that, if you wish."

A silence, then, as the unspoken threat sinks in.

"This can all be over in an instant," the priestess murmurs, "Just give us the remains. That is all that I ask for."

[2/3]

>>5696748

"Excuse us," Persephone snarls, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you from the tent. She doesn't stop pulling until you're a good way from the camp, far enough to avoid any eavesdropping. "That BITCH," she spits, "That dog, that wretched mongrel beast!"

"I'm sensing some tension here," you remark, prising her iron grip off your hand and massaging some feeling back into it.

"We should burn it. And if she gets pissy about it, we'll burn her bloody tent down as well!" she continues, "Speaking to us like that, like we were her bloody servants..."

"Calm down!" you hiss, finally snapping Persephone into silence. "Look, I don't know what her game is. I don't know what that THING is either. But you need to calm down," you continue, "Need I remind you that she's got a dozen armed men with her? Even if we really scrape the barrel, her men outnumber us two to one. The last thing we need right now is to provoke some kind of... of diplomatic incident!"

Persephone draws in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she steadies her nerves. "Honestly, you men. Flash a little skin and you all lose your nerve," she sighs, "Fine. Assume, just for now, that we don't burn her shitty little campsite to the ground. Then what do we do instead?"

Good question. A very good question.

>You should burn the body. Whatever it is, it deserves to be purged from the land
>You should return the body. The foresters can do what they please with it from here
>You should dissect the body. Your understanding should take priority over all else
>Other

>>5696758
>You should dissect the body. Your understanding should take priority over all else

Lets see what we are dealing with. Seems like a shit situation all around though. We'll probably have to give it them. Hopefully they won't mind it being returned a bit cut up.

>>5696758
>You should return the body. The foresters can do what they please with it from here

She may be rude but it's not an unreasonable request

>>5696758
>You should dissect the body. Your understanding should take priority over all else
We're a detective, of sorts, and there's a mystery here. We cannot rest until it's solved. Also...
>Persephone, are you... Jealous? I mean, if you really want the same amount of attention, there's nothing stopping YOU from showing more skin, but it seems unnecessary to me...
Time to tease the brat back.

>>5696766
>That second bit
Wrong time for that. Banter is one thing, but there is genuine seethe and vitriol going through her and I wager it started from that 'daughter of the moon' comment more than anything.

"We're here to understand the situation, and that means understanding what that damn thing is," you tell Persephone, "Right now, that takes priority over all else. They can have the body when we're done with it."

"Oh, very assertive. I think I like it," Persephone remarks, rubbing her hands together with glee, "Shall we get started? And by "we", I mean "you". You'll forgive me if I don't wish to get my hands dirty for this. You'll need someone to stand guard, after all."

"Oh come on, it's fine," you assure her, "You'll get used to the smell... eventually."

But she doesn't exactly look convinced.

-

Returning to the beach, you give Ossler a wave. He returns it with an almost inappropriate cheer, beckoning for you to hurry up. "Good afternoon to you, sir," he greets you, "And you too, ma'am. Happy to make your acquaintance. Now, I don't mean to rush you at all, but we don't have too many hours of daylight left. If you were planning on-"

"Let's get started then," you interrupt, "Have you got all your tools here?"

"Ready and waiting," he replies, gesturing to a small wooden crate near the remains, "Ma'am, you might want to leave us to it. This might be a little much for those of a delicate constitution."

At the first hint of a challenge, you can sense her resolve harden. "You shouldn't need to worry about me," she assures the doctor, waving away his concerns with an indifferent gesture, "I understand that you get quite used to the smell."

"True enough. I don't even notice it at this point!" the doctor says with a laugh, opening his box of tricks to produce a particularly large blade, "Shall we begin?"

The first task is to remove the outer membrane. This is easily enough done with a long slit down the length of it, at which point it falls away without much trouble to reveal the creature's full body. The closest comparison you can make, looking at the creature, is to an eel. But even then, you're just grasping for any hint of recognition. It has arms, as your first glance suggested, that remain partly fused to the long body until the elbow, where they split off like fins. The hands almost look human, save for the thin membrane stretched between each finger.

Further down, the faint traces of humanity drop away completely. The lower half of the body has fused into a slender fish tail, although the skin has no hint of the scales you might expect on a real fish – it's all the same soft white skin, slightly mushy now that it's exposed to the air. The head is barely a head at all – just a misshapen lump atop the shoulders, without any hint of features. No eyes, no nose, no mouth, just a lump of waxy flesh.

"Now then," Ossler mutters, preparing a new blade, "Let's take a look inside, shall we?"

[1]

>>5696774

"No bone at all, seems to be made entirely from blubber and muscles. Makes it easy to cut, at least," Ossler grunts as he works, spreading open the chest cavity and peering inside, "Organs look almost human. Definitely human, in fact."

Persephone leans forwards, gently nudging you aside so she can take a look. "Forgive me, sir, for I am not trained as you so obviously are," she begins, her voice sweet and mocking, "That is... the heart, is it not?"

"Aye, that's it," Ossler confirms.

"And this?" Persephone continues, pointing to another lump of pallid grey flesh, "What is this?"

Ossler takes a long moment to reply. "That is... ahem," he clears his throat, "That is... another heart... ma'am."

"Another heart, I see," she nods slowly, "And how many hearts would a human normally have?"

"None at all, if you're talking about my wife," the doctor says with a nervous laugh, "Excuse me, please. I won't be a moment." Standing quickly, the doctor retreats a few paces away. Not far enough, though – you can still hear him retching as you examine the remains. You count three hearts in total, although one of them seems small and malformed. In addition to the hearts, you count two pairs of lungs and a truly enormous amount of viscera. Until your expert returns from emptying his stomach, you can't be any more precise than that.

But that shouldn't take much longer. You can't hear any more retching, which means-

"Lucas," Persephone murmurs, touching your arm, "I think we might have a problem."

You turn, only to falter as you spot Ossler – as well as the knife that Lady Ellenghast holds to his throat. Two of the forester warriors flank her, aiming their rifles at you and Persephone. You draw your revolver on instinct alone, although you don't quite know who to aim it at. Not yet, at least. The soldiers tense up at the sight of your weapon, but they don't make any sudden moves – she has them well-trained.

Lady Ellenghast peers over Ossler's shoulder, a faint grimace of distaste on her lips as she examines the dissected body. "Are you quite finished now?" she asks mildly, caressing the doctor's neck with her blade, "May we take it from here?"

Persephone shifts her weight, and your sight reveals her guardian spirit fluttering nervously around her head. With the Veil grown strong like this, though, there's not much that the spirit can do to help. You're on your own for this one.

>We're going to destroy this monster. Don't stand in our way
>Fine. You can take it, whatever it really is
>Other

>>5696792
>Fine. You can take it, whatever it really is
We got what we could. We do some research on what we found later.

>>5696792
>Other
"Can you help us understand what you want with the beast? We don't necessarily have any qualms about letting you take it, we just want to understand what's going on here and why you want it enough to threaten innocent townsfolk."

Also is our own guardian spirit powerful enough to burn the body as a last resort? If so, manifest it.

>>5696767
Also this is a good reminder to grill Persephone more about the "daughter of the moon", her dark spooky past and hometown, and Shang-Han after this, since it seems to be related to the Silver Chariot.

>>5696801
>>5696810
Supporting both.

File: Sil Ellenghast.jpg (65 KB, 850x1202)

65 KB JPG

There's a part of you that wants to destroy the body. Not out of spite, but for the simple reason that it shouldn't be. A loathsome, malformed thing like that should not exist. You'd burn the thing to ash here and now, if not for the Veil holding back your own guardian spirit. Lady Ellenghast almost seems to sense your thoughts, teasing Ossler's neck with the tip of her dagger. At the sight of the first drop of his blood, you angrily lower your revolver.

"Fine. Have it your way," you growl, "But what is it that you REALLY want with this thing? Why do you want it so badly that you'd be willing to kill for it?"

"Why would any mother seek their lost child? I simply wish to bring it back where it belongs," Lady Ellenghast replies, taking her blade from Ossler's throat. The doctor collapses down to the sand, hurriedly shuffling away from her. At her gesture, the warrior sling their rifles and start to approach the remains. "What you see as deformed and hideous is, to us, a holy thing," the priestess explains, "A manifestation of a greater world."

"A greater world?" you repeat, "The spirit world?"

Lady Ellenghast smiles, a sad and somehow pitying smile. "You have forgotten your history," you laments, "Or was it taken from you?"

"Talk some sense!" Persephone snarls, starting to draw her dagger before halting herself.

"We are the ones who remember the old ways. Ways that will mean nothing to you. But later, perhaps, you will learn. I may even be the one to teach you," the priestess murmurs, watching with satisfaction as her soldiers lift up the limp corpse, "We will meet again, Lucas Hearne. I am glad to see that you have not strayed too far from the path."

With those last cryptic words, Lady Ellenghast turns to lead her men away. You watch her leave in a numb silence, your words failing you. Persephone slowly sheathes her dagger once more, contenting herself to glare viciously at the priestess' retreating back. It's only when Ossler lets out a breathless curse that you snap back into motion. Starting to take a few steps after Lady Ellenghast, you change your mind and grow still

"Well then," Persephone murmurs, "I didn't understand a single bloody word of all that. Did you?"

"No," you reply, slowly shaking your head, "Not one bit."

"Great. Wonderful," she sighs, "Some son of the forest you are."

"That's nice, coming from the daughter of the moon," you shoot back, "Whatever THAT means."

Persephone grimaces, only for her expression to twist into a bright smile within the space of a heartbeat. "I wonder if Brodie has prepared a room for the night," she wonders aloud, "I certainly hope it'll be better than the last room we stayed in!"

Fine then, she can change the subject if she likes – but you're not going to just forget about this. You can be tenacious too, when you want to be.

[1]

>>5696817

Perhaps out of a vague sense of responsibility, you make sure that Ossler gets home safely before returning to the temple. Brodie is waiting for you there, looking as if he can't decide whether to be angry or grateful. "You!" he calls out, "What happened? Those savages came marching through town, and when I saw them coming back from the beach they had-"

"They're taking the body," you explain bluntly, "It came from the forest. They're just taking it back to where it belongs."

"That's... it?" Brodie hesitates, "No monstrous rites? No profane rituals?"

"We didn't really ask," Persephone points out, "But if there are any monstrous rites, they'll be happening very far away so what does it matter to you? Just pretend like everything's fine, and you won't have anything to worry about. Now, it's very late and we've got a long journey to make tomorrow – where do we sleep?"

Confronted with Persephone's temper, Brodie – like most people – falters. "I had a room prepared," he says, only to hesitate before adding, "But I can arrange for a separate-"

"Oh, don't feel the need to go to any more trouble," she interrupts, waving his concerns away, "We're already tired enough as it is, there's no sense in waiting around even longer than this for you to find a spare room. Lead on!"

-

The spare room is small, but comfortable, although the single bed is going to make things... a little awkward. Persephone doesn't seem to care, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking her riding boots off. You leave her be, examining your face in the small mirror – you still have some faint marks from where Clarissa scratched you, but nothing too serious. Nothing that shoudn't fade in a few-

"Do you remember what I said before, about my old village? About how we were all looking for something more?" Persephone says suddenly, "I really meant that. Our... faith... said that there was a greater world, a true world, that we had only to seek out. There were rites and rituals meant to open the way, all carried out by the light of the moon. But they never worked."

Hence, you assume, the daughter of the moon.

"There were these old ruins near the village. I would go exploring there, just to get away from everyone else. One day, I found a crack in the ground – it led deep into the ruins, into a chamber that I had never seen before," she continues, "There were words carved on the walls. Words for a NEW rite. I copied them down, brought them back to the village. That's when..."

"That's when people got hurt," you finish for her, remembering her words from Penn's Garden, "Right?"

"Oh no," Persephone replies, giving you a ghastly, humourless smile, "It was far worse than that."

[2/3]

>>5696833

"I remember the full moon. It seemed so big that night, and so bright – brighter than the sun, even. I was chosen to lead the dance, since I had been the one to uncover the new rites. My parents were so proud! I poured everything I had into the dance, pushing myself harder than ever before while the whole village chanted out the words. Even then, I knew that it would work. That it would... do something," Persephone recalls, "That's when I started seeing the spirits dancing with me. But it wasn't just me, either – the others started seeing the spirits too."

"The Veil was collapsing," you murmur, "That rite..."

"We were looking for a rite that would deliver us to our promised land. I think maybe we found it," she murmurs, a sad smile on her face, "I remember the dance reaching its climax, and then... the whole world went away. In its place, I saw a whole other world – and the city, too. That beautiful, perfect city. Our promised land really existed in that other world."

"And then it was over," she says simply, "I was back in the real world, and I was... alone. Everyone else... no, most of everyone else had vanished. They had gone to the city. But some of them weren't so lucky. I remember walking through the snow, looking for my parents or... or anyone I knew. I found some of them. Parts of them. But do you know what the worst part of it is?"

Slowly, you shake your head.

"It was seeing that other world, that perfect world. Seeing it, knowing that I might never see it again," Persephone smiles again, touches her chest, "And knowing that there's a part of me that stayed behind in that world as well."

>I think I'm going to pause things here for today. I should be able to run the next session on Saturday, this week
>Thank you for reading along today!

>>5696842
>Persephone's secret origin
Oh. Well then. Jeez.

Thanks for running, QM!

>>5696842
Thanks for running!

I may have even managed to clear up my Saturday morning.

>>5696842
Thanks for running the 3peat! Also excited to continue unravelling this plot thread. Silver Chariot = way for people to get drawn into the spirit world makes a lot of sense for what happened to Persephone and her town

>>5696842
Sounds like the remains is a similar case to Persephone, only either the remains got transformed a lot more than her, or that was the "other" counterpart instead of the human one.

Strange dreams again, that night – not of fire, this time, but of snow and ice.

Snow is all that you can see, a whirling wall of white that blows all around you. You've never seen snow like this before, even at the peak of the monastery's mountaintop, yet your first thought is one of familiarity. This place seems strangely familiar, but somehow alien at the same time. There should be more here, you realise, there should be houses and workshops – a whole village, in fact. But the land around you is empty and barren.

Stumbling forwards a few trembling paces, you see a distorted shape in the snow and stagger towards it for a closer look. When you realise what it is, though, you fall back and retch. Fused halfway into the hard, frozen soil, the head stares out at you with a single glassy eye. As you crawl away, you see more... remains – an arm sticking abrubtly up as if waving, a shapeless mass that might have a shoulder or hip, other things beside.

No matter which way you turn, you can't escape the ruined remains. All you can do is set your sights on the sky, on the bright moon glaring through the blizzard, and run. You run out to the edge of town – what should have been the edge of town – before you lose your footing and fall. Cold snow stings your cheek as you lie there, slowly lifting your head to see something new. There, in the distance, you see what may just be your salvation.

Finally, you see fire.

-

You wake with a jolt, the chill of the snow seeming to follow you back into reality. For the first few seconds you just lie in bed and wait for normality to resume, but the chill never quite fades. It takes you a moment to realise what's causing it – Persephone has fallen asleep with her arms around you and her body pressed tight against your back. Even now, after however long you've been sleeping, her skin feels cool to the touch.

Gently prying her arms free, you slip out of bed and start to dress. Despite your innocent intentions, you still feel oddly guilty about spending the night like this – in a temple, no less. You're sure that the spirits can forgive you, just this once.

Glancing back, you check that Persephone is still sleeping soundly. When you open your inner eye, though, you see her guardian spirit hovering the girl's sleeping form and staring at you. Faintly unnerved, you turn away and busy yourself with checking over your baggage. With a long journey ahead of you, you'll want to start early and make good time. Even so-

"What I don't understand," Persephone says softly, her voice barely a whisper, "Is how she knew so much about us."

"Huh?" you reply, turning to see Persephone sitting up with only the bedsheet to protect her modesty.

"Son of the forest, daughter of the moon," she repeats, scowling slightly to herself, "How did that witch KNOW?"

[1/2]

>>5700520

"I don't know," you admit after a long pause, "Maybe she... sorry, but could you please put some clothes on?"

"Oh, suit yourself," Persephone teases, standing up and letting the bedsheet drop to the floor. You quickly turn away, listening to the faint rustle of cloth as she starts to dress. "So?" she continues, "Maybe she... what?"

You've already forgotten what you were going to say. Maybe nothing at all. "Something did occur to me, actually," you say slowly, "The way she introduced herself. Lady Sil Ellenghast of the Forest Kingdom. Would she really SAY that? That's our name for it, not theirs. It's a stupid name, anyway, it doesn't even make sense. There's no-"

"No king, I know," she finishes for you, "So, in addition to being a generally horrendous person, do we also think she's a liar?"

"Those men with her, they were definitely foresters," you point out, "They'd be unlikely to follow orders from an outsider. Not unless there was something in it for them."

But, you recall, there were men from the Forest Kingdom among those killed in Master Brehm's ambush too. Just a coincidence, or part of some greater design?

-

"You're on your way, then?" Brodie asks as you're readying the horses, "I wondered if I might ask a service of you. If you should learn anything more about those... remains... would you send word our way?"

"You want to learn more?" you ask, looking round, "I thought you'd just want to forget that this ever happened."

"Well, speaking personally, I do. But people are already asking questions, and I have a duty to put their minds at ease – if such a thing is really possible," he explains, "My duties here would make it difficult to travel to the capital, but you..."

"I can't promise anything. When it comes to the Forest Kingdom, our archives are sorely lacking. They tend to keep secrets well, in the forest, and most conventional scholars are content to leave it that way," you tell him with a shrug, "But I was planning on taking a look anyway. I'll write, if I'm able to find anything that might help."

"There's one other thing," he warns, "When the foresters left, I asked one of the hunters here to follow them. Just to make sure that they were really gone, you see? Most of the party went back into the forest, following the main path, but there seemed to be one man skulking around outside. I haven't seen him myself, so he hasn't come to bother the town itself, but you should be careful on the road out. Don't let your guard down."

"I won't," you assure him, giving the young priest a nod of thanks as he leaves.

"Well then," Persephone remarks, her voice low, "Unless you wanted to settle down and take up fishing, I think it's about time we left."

>Right. We should get back to the academy as soon as possible
>Hold on. I want to see if we can find this forester
>I think we should head into the forest itself, pick up Ellenghast's trail
>Other

>>5700522
>Go towards where the forest meets the sea. If the remains really came from there, there could be clues on the riverside.

>>5700522
>Hold on. I want to see if we can find this forester

>>5700522
>I think we should head into the forest itself, pick up Ellenghast's trail

>>5700522

Swapping >>5700534 this vote to +1 >>5700531 this one.

>>5700522
>>5700531
is a good idea

"Hold on, not so fast. I want to take another look around first," you tell Persephone, "I just want to be sure. Call it a hunch, okay?"

Persephone thinks this over before shrugging. "I do hope that this hunch of yours doesn't end up getting us in any trouble," she warns, "And by "trouble", I really mean anything that could end up with us doing hard work, or dealing with everyone's least favourite forester. I'm sure you know who I mean."

"I think I can guess," you reply, leaving your horse tied for now. It'll be easier to explore the area on foot, you decide, especially if you run into any rough terrain.

"I mean Ellenghast," your companion explains, following close behind you, "Was that your guess? What are you looking for, anyway?"

"Some kind of river, a way out into the open sea," you explain, gesturing over the coastline, "That thing had to get out into the open water somehow, and I'm fairly sure that it didn't walk. If we can find that, we might be able to find some other kind of lead on that thing."

That's your theory, at least. Aside from the thin strip of beach by the village itself, much of the coastline rises up like a bare hillside – you might need to walk quite some way before you find lower ground, and any river along with it. Pushing your doubts aside for now, you pick a direction set off along the cliff edge path. It's a pleasant enough walk, and the sound of water crashing against the rocks below is oddly soothing.

"You know, I had a rather strange dream last night. I think this place must be affecting me," Persephone muses as you walk, "I dreamed that I was lost in the forest. My own silly fault, if you can believe such a thing. I went wandering into the forest all by myself, and then I couldn't find my way back out. Now, why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because... you were following something," you answer, your mouth suddenly dry.

"Maybe, maybe," she replies, thinking it over, "Well, it was a terrible idea either way. I thought I was lost for good, and I KNEW that bad things happen to people who get lost in the Forest Kingdom. I was feeling terribly sorry for myself, but then I saw something – a little silver light, leading the way home. I don't quite know how I knew it would lead me home, but... hey, are you even listening to me?"

You try to answer, but you can't quite form the words. Instead, you just stare down into the ocean below as if you can't tear your gaze away. A moment later, you realise what's caught your eye – there are ripples spreading out across the water, quite separate from the normal ebb and flow of the waves. Something down there is churning up the water.

"Veins of the earth..." you mutter, recalling Lady Ellenghast's words, "An underground river?"

[1]

>>5700575
Oh, I guess that makes a lot of sense

>>5700575
>wake up naked with Perspehone
>we're dreaming of each other's backstories
OTP confirmed.