The transition from Hamlet to Village was not a subtle affair; land had to be cleared, routes had to be established, and territory had to be marked. Even though the population was increasing from 20 to 50, it still carried a fair bit of weight, as the terraforming was undertaken. Stuck on mountains, Delta and Epsilon had to break ground, level it out, and carve out their homes in the stone. Encircled by the forests, Beta had to lumber trees left and right, uproot ancient stumps, and smooth ground of unfathomable depth. Buffeted by a vast ocean and rime, Gamma had to find solid footing in the snow and ice, plant their roots in stubborn soil, and grow against the adversity of a frozen tundra.

Alpha had the simultaneously easiest and hardest trial: growing against itself and beyond -- they had to envelope all of the surrounding lands, and bring Enderall out to take on the Chateau as herself. It meant contending with the other bodies that thought they'd designs better than Chuunitrixx's, and making sure they could find no footing outside of the Chateau.

They belonged indoors.

So, they all worked; tirelessly, determined. Damned be anyone that stood in their paths.

Having heard the briefing of the group sent to investigate the town, Rodias was shocked as he was approached by a rather intelligent mimic, requesting an item from him. ”You...want what from me?”

"Surely, your hearing is not failing, My Lord," Socrates says, overlooking over the Chateau Shell Project via Sentries, "Eris's Apple of Discord."

Rodias nodded. ”Oh, I heard you just fine. But the question I mean is...why do you think I would have that? Or know where to find it?” Rodias would question, poised on his throne and looking through his inventory for anything even REMOTELY close to such an item.

"The answers to those questions are unnecessary to possess, unlike the item in question," Socrates says, he directed movement and construction via bits of song.

”...No, those questions are absolutely necessary. Because not only do I not have it, I don’t know where to find such a thing.” Rodias said, narrowing his eyes, apparently offended by such...disrespect.

" These are questions that are unnecessary for me to answer, I shall amend. My task is simple, Overseer of the Alpha Strain of the Survivor of the Apocalypse Mimic of Hivequeen Enderall, daughter of the Hivematriarch Chuunitrixx," Socrates says, "As such, your current line of questioning and frustration at my lack of address is meaningless emotion. I was asked, no tasked, to achieve a suggested goal. In spite of your lack of knowledge or your ire of a perceived sense of disrespect, I refuse to put energy into caring about either, beyond the bounds of mentioning it in this conversation," he looked at Rodias with unflinching posture and hollow eyes, "I was not born to respect you, my Lord. Yours is a hollow title, ringing a cracked bell above a broken people that you haven't the faith to lead nor the intelligence to guide. So, might we drop the frown, and speak plainly? Can you assist My Queen, or not?"

There was a tangible tension in the air as Rodias endured the hail of slights against himself, eyes simply staring at what may have either been the bravest, or stupidest mimic that he’d ever encountered. But it was partially a wake up call...Rodias really didn’t have faith. At least, not in the capacity of a mimic like this to prove to be anything save for a long standing annoyance. Rising from his throne, Rodias would give an amused smile, before he said: ”And you’re not only lacking in manners, but in the good sense to know well enough to cease poking a lion while it sleeps. So, no. I cannot help you. But I can help you, at the same time. Since you apparently lack any faith whatsoever in me, and lack the intelligence to see that goading me isn’t the way to get what you want, tell me…” Rodias moved with inhuman efficiency, standing behind Socrates faster than the mimic could perceive, a hand upon his shoulder as he whispered: ”Why should I care?”

Socrates did not flinch, nor concern himself. "You questions waste time. Kill me. I am one of Legion; my consciousness will survive in another Alpha. I will be reborn. Kill him. Again. Again. Again. Again. As long as you please. It matters not. In due time, insanity will trip you, and you will fall..." he shrugged. "Care. Don't. That, too, matters not. My Queen merely asked for your assistance. Her others search, as well. Mimics hunt, as birds, as bugs, as mice... listening. Always listening."

Socrates didn't move. He didn't need to. A Mimic was not born to fear, but to do. "In any case, if you are done, either kill me or leave me to my work, my Lord," Socrates says. "Either or, the Chateau Shell Project is slowing down without the proper attention."

Rodias sigheed, before backing off. ”First you hurl insults at me, and then tell me that I’m wasting your time...Frankly, I don’t know what Chuunitrixx sees in something like you. But, go, if you so please. I’ve grown tired of entertaining your impudence,” he would say, before returning to his throne, leaving an apple in Socrates’ hand...plated in gold. ”Its not magical. But it does serve well enough as a symbol,” the Sable Lord would say before adding: ”Oh and the next time you come back, make sure that you have a real insult prepared. I’ve heard far worse from far less intelligent people.”

Sipping on a cup of coffee Rodias smiled, waiting for his impudent guest to take his leave.

Socrates looked at the apple, gilded in gold, and set it on the floor. "I've little time for useless bobbles," he says, bowing a little, "Still, a valiant effort, my Lord. I shall report your success, and failure, as dutifuly as I was tasked. Please, enjoy your day." Looking up, Socrates smiled pleasantly, and melded into the floor; shifting and cracking into a Sentry. It crumpled after a moment, lifeless and drained of both MP and HP.

Standing on the rooftop, Socrates looked out, "Ah, youth... Such boldness and inexperience, all mixed into an adorable singularity. He could amount to great things... could..." Socrates's expression hardened, "Until things, he needs to be treated like what he is: a child, unprepared for this world, coddled by everyone... ridiculed only the phantom of his friend. Until he is strong, we'll push him, where the rest would placate him. Just like he did for Lady Traptrixx..."

"Only we won't fail him, as he failed her."

---

Collaboration with @The Irish Tree

Humming, Chuunitrixx was brushing her hair; dirty-blonde locks replaced by a sea of violet, and pulled neatly into a ponytail. Behind her, the quartet of eggs were lying on the bed -- well within her sight via the mirror. Stacked in a pile, she saw the pilfered books that Kath's, largely ignored, scream of, frankly fathomable, rage was rattling her room over. She didn't care, honestly.

Mimic. Doppelganger. Greater Doppelganger. Automaton. Hivequeen. Chuunitrixx possessed an immunity to fear, disease, poison, and mind control. Traptrixx had desired to leave Rodias with an unshakable Guardian Angel, and did just that; it was her own existence that flawed her creation, and Chuunitrixx was, slowly, gaining control of that, as well.

She was evolving, learning, and refining...

Standing, as she drew on her smoke, Chuunitrixx took a seat on the bed, and summoned one of the books; possessed by a Proxy. "It's storytime, little ones," she says, "I read that playing classical music for infants in the womb is productive to their intelligence. I don't have such a facility installed, since I'm an insectoid-style Mimic, so, I guess, It'll make your eggs work the same, eh?" Chuunitrixx cracked the book open, and donned a pair of reading glasses, "'Guild Leadership 101: Guiding Sable Stars' by Droledge, Founder of Bandersnatch; 'Chapter 1: So, You Wanna Run A Guild? ...

As soon as the seething God's Flood on Noah that was Kath thunderstormed in, she would come across Chuunitrixx, as Eris, reading from their Guild Leader's rulebook to the eggs with a content expression.

Kath, still keeping up her facade of calmness, would enter the room Chuunitrixx was using to read to her eggs with a false smile. The sight confused her quite significantly, what with this mysterious woman she’d never seen before reading to eggs that she had never seen before either, though the sight of her books would keep her on her mission.

“Excuse me,” Kath said, sounding polite despite her rage. “I would like to inquire where it was that you acquired that book and the others you seem to have here. The reason being, while I’m willing to allow others in the Chateau borrow whichever texts they are interested in, at no point was I ever approached and asked if you could. After all, it is a library. One does not go and take whatever book they like from a librarian without letting them know who they are and where the books are supposed to be.” As she spoke, the dragonoid gripped the backrest of a chair, her nails digging into its wood.

The chair clicked and whirred, before opening and pointing a shotgun muzzle at Kath's midsection. "You really shouldn't just go around like that," Chuunitrixx says, holding up a finger as if readied on a trigger, "You don't know what you could hurt accidentally, and what can hurt you in kind..." Struggling, the Sentry was singing a sorrow, jittery tune; it was clearly in pain, and wanted to shoot Kath to return that pain. "Please, be kind." Chuunitrixx says.

In her anger, Kath had forgotten that here in Chuunitrixx’s realm everything was alive, and that included the furniture as well. Certainly a strange place, though with her own moving bookshelves, she knew she shouldn’t judge. Releasing the chair from her grip, the dragonoid looked at it before bowing her head in apology. “Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking,” she said, before placing her hand back on the chair as if to pet it.

“However, you still haven’t answered my question, miss. Taking something without permission is also rather unkind, don’t you believe?”

"Borrowing something is a grey morality crime, is it not," Chuunitrixx's asks, her face melting as she looked to Kath, reforming into her original -- that is to say, Lady Traptrixx's. "Or, would you like to levy a pointless threat at my immortal existence, too?" Chuunitrixx blew a cloud of mottled green smoke at Kath, expressing her displeasure over the actions of Flan and Mamoru. "I assure you, borrowing a few dozen books is the least of the atrocities you would incite upon yourself,"" she says.

With a snort, the smoke Chuunitrixx had blown out into Kath’s face would dissipate, revealing Eris’ true appearance. It was quite an unladylike action to take, but when she was so close to transforming, she tended to often forget her manners. “I would not call what you did borrowing, but stealing. However, I’m willing to overlook this if you would file a report, including all of the books you have taken, where in or outside the Chateau you plan to keep them until you return them to me, how long you plan to keep them, and I signature promising to compensate for any damages that they might incur while under your protection.”

"And, if I don't intend to entertain you and your busywork," Chuunitrixx asks, as the books suddenly grew thin cases with tripodal legs, and shifted in their neat stacks -- exposing their nature as Mimics Bookcases. "I'd be mindful of your tone, however. Proxies explode when agitated," she says, "And, when I'm agitated..."

Clearly, Chuunitrixx was really annoyed about... well, something.

Kath seemed shocked at Chuunitrixx’s insinuation. Not the explosion, but the very idea that she might keep that which does not belong to her. “They belong to me. I’ve gone through the effort of writing them, cataloging them, and protecting them within my library. How would you feel if I were to take one of those eggs and bring it back to my Athenaeum of Historia? Never to be seen again as I lock it away within the Forbidden Section?”

Chuunitrixx paused for a moment, “Such a curiosity...” Her eyes were looking into the “thoughtful” distance. “I could not think of a safer place for them to survive the week, honestly. In fact, are you offering? I would not mind offering you the temporary honorary title of King, Kathtrixx,” Chuunitrixx smirked, “My, my, that does feel nice rolling off the tongue, too. Kathtrixx I, King of Chapter XI, Apocalypse Now. Well, not so much anymore; what, with my remodeling.”

Chuunitrixx was very confusing to Kath. Here she had just threatened to steal something of hers in return and somehow that qualified her for a high position within the Doppelganger’s Chapter. However, this seemed to her like a good opportunity for both women to receive what they wanted. “Perhaps. Fill out the form as I had requested and I shall consider keeping the eggs within my Forbidden Section until they hatch. However, you should be made aware that no one is allowed inside besides myself. If they ever need anything while they are in there, you would need to tell me to do it for you,” she replied, eager to have her books returned.

“That simply would not do. They need a specific environment setup to sate their growing needs,” Chuunitrixx says. “Warmth, of course. Comfort, as a second. They cannot be exposed to harsh elements like your flooring or shelves, but a nest of either silk or cotton; preferably silk. Body heat is the best temperature, and they need to be warm for several hours. What else...” she hummed, clearly very serious about this, “ Oh, what am I saying? You’re a Dragonoid. You know all about egg-laying and egg-rearing, of course. You know they need vocal stimulation from their parent figures. Especially, the one that laid them.”

“I… I may be a dragonoid, but I’ve never laid any myself. I don’t have any experience in taking care of young. This is much different from taking care of inanimate books,” Kath stammered. “I am not sure I am best suited for this job.”

“Ooooh...~???” Chuunitrixx smirked broadly; her jaw unfolding back into a Glasgow Smile of knife-like teeth. “Something that the Know-it-all... doesn’t? How curious...” Chuunitrixx stood up, and motioned to the quartet of eggs, “Try it. Lay with them.”

“Wha- Whaaaat?!” Kath asked. “But I- But you’re- But we- I- I- I- You don’t mean like that do you?” she finally stuttered out.

Chuunitrixx snickered, “C’mere.” The Hivequeen took the Dragon’s hands, and pulled her to the bed; laying her down with the nested eggs. “Arms like this...” she positioned Kath’s arms around the eggs, in a small hug. “Legs like this...” she positioned Kath’s legs to come towards her chest, and pull the eggs close to her belly, “And, then I go like this...” Chuunitrixx mirrored the positions. “This is Athena, the Lady of Bows. This is Ares, the Lord of Blades. This is Circe, the Mistress of Spells. This is Dionysus, the Master of Potions,” she says, pointing to them in turn, “They are brand-new additions to this world, to the greatness of the Chateau, and Lord Rodias. Isn’t their future worth missing a few books? Isn’t this feeling worth a temporary loss? Touch them, and feel it for yourself...”

Chuunitrixx seemed significantly calmer, as she spoke -- not the on-edge guard dog that had greeted them in the Climax Hour, but... something else happier with a conviction yet spoken but being met.

Kath had to amit, this was quite nice. Maybe one day she wouldn’t mind having eggs of her own to protect and smother. However, she had something else to protect at the moment. “As… nice as this is… I think the best way to explain is that I see each and every one of my books as my children. Just like you, I wish to keep them safe and protected and I would also like for them to eventually return to my ‘nest’ at some point. I… would not mind helping you with raising these eggs, but I would also like to have my own metaphorical eggs returned to me eventually,” Kath explained, still hugging the Doppelganger’s yet unborn child against her body.

Chuunitrixx frowned, but made nothing of it -- shockingly. Confrontation was her existence. She existed to confront, and resolve, problems. And, yet, she allowed Kath the floor to argue, and didn’t bite back. Perhaps, Kath’s own resolve was enough to convince her, or... perhaps, Chuunitrixx had lost her purpose of intervention, of confrontation, once she chose her current route.

Perhaps, like reality, children served to mellow and mature us in small ways.

“I see,” Chuunitrixx says, as the Proxies shook in their stacked, and suddenly jolted forwards -- each stack replicated -- before scattering out of the room. “I’ve duplicated the books. If that is your business here, then, please, leave,” she requests, “I’ll arrange for your books to be returned -- in full -- within the hour. If that is all, then goodbye.”

However, just because we can be changed... does not mean: everything can be changed about us. Those prone to anger quickly can simply be made to anger quietly, so their children are unaffected by who they still are.

“Thank you. I… shall plan to return at my earliest convenience to check up on you, Athena, Ares, Circe, and Dionysus when I can,” Kath replied, beginning to take her leave. At the doorway, she stopped, turned around, and faced Chuunitrixx one last time. “You’re right. Kathtrixx I has quite the ring to it. Perhaps that can be discussed more as well,” she said, before finally returning to the Athenaeum of Historia.

Chuunitrixx mumbled in annoyance, but... something in her stirred, and her ponytail stood halfway on end, like a dog’s tail when they were happy or... something else more lewd. Either way, Chuunitrixx’s heart, which normally didn’t waste energy moving, beat a little.

“What the hell... is this feeling...?”

---

Collaboration with @Guess Who

After finishing up with Kath, and setting her eggs to bed, Chuunitrixx sat herself before a female Alpha Survivor, and the rather plain woman fidgeted; adjusting her toga in a manner that bespoke of an uncomfortableness. "Relax. You aren't in trouble. I need your transformations to test something," Chuunitrixx says, "Transform into Ashara." For a moment, the Mimic was confused by the request, but complied as her skin paled; her skin opened in sections, unfolding and folding, replicating matter and form, and closing shut in the new suit. "Ara ara~! Konbanwa, Hime-sama!" she says, mimicking Ashara's voice and mannerisms, but as Chuunitrixx saw them and her, in general. "Watashi wa totemo attakaidesu..." Mimic-Ashara fussed, as she started to strip off her complex attire.

"Stop. I don't feel or understand anything going on here. Ahsara is too confusing for me. Change into something simple, like Graft," Chuunitrixx says, unimpressed. "Hai." Mimic-Ashara says, before folding and unfolding; Graft was a lot more complex that Ashara, as far as bodies went, but Alphas were Alphas for a reason, and, after a moment, a full female recreation of Graft stood before Chuunitrixx. "My Lady, have I got a deal for you. If you'll simply avert your attention to this chart I've handily set up, you'll see, my genetic potential is quite invaluable and steep," Mimic-Graft simultaneously boasted and pitched, "In fact, if you compare me to the others, you'll find there is no comparison to be found! Yes, I'm an all-in-one, exclusive package with bonuses, such as, and NOT limited to, multiple breast and buttock sizes, adjustable height, and, just for you, my Lady, a prototype Submission Slider for your inner Dominant."

Chuunitrixx stared blankly, as Mimic-Graft pitched her sex like a business product. "Salem," she commanded, to which the Mimic obeyed, and became a demented-looking lolicon in a leotard and a tophat with a pair of big knives that were dangerously close to opening her lungs, as the Mimic-Salem knocks Chuunitrixx onto the floor. "I need Magic, Mommy! Won't you feed me...!?" Chuunitrixx kicked, bucking Mimic-Salem off, and slammed her back into the wall. "Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Anyone else! Anyone else, but Loli the Ripper!" she shouted, not having that. Suddenly, a pair of warm, yet frozen hands ghosted around her neck, "Anyone, my Morsel? Such bravery..."

Turning her head, Chuunitrixx took in the Mimic-Kaldorna, in the prime of her youth, and fangs bared to... nibble. Vampires thought it was so cute, as it got the blood pumping. "Gah! No!" Chuunitrixx did not find it cute. She liked her blood not pumping. She loved it still. "Perhaps, you need brute force on your side," offered Mimic-Gromgard, in her sleek armor, "Perhaps, a faithful companion, instead," offered Mimic-Aurora, with her clerical soothingness, "Or, perhaps, someone to take a nap with?" offered up Mimic-Mamoru with a comfy yawn. "Never! I am all the force I need, and my faith is in me, and I don't like naps!" Chuunitrixx says, rapid fire. "Perhaps, you just need a little more than a regular King..."

Chuunitrixx turned, and her ponytail started to rise, as she saw Sexy Librarian Mimic-Kath; half-undressed, but making no advances. Kath was a listener; one to document and journal passively, and let Life make the first move. "You'll have few viable options here. To find that suitable one, you have to settle..." Mimic-Kath says, smiling, "...or... allow fate to take its course..."

The Alpha Survivor suddenly transformed into a woman with a profoundly sad expression. Chuunitrixx gasped, and... her ponytail stood straight up behind her. "Oh, wow..." she breathed, before realizing that her composure was completely slack, and she struggled with her confusingly erect ponytail. "Who is she," Chuunitrixx asks.

"Remona Lizano." answered the Mimic.

"Find Socrates. Beta has a new goal. I want to know everything about this human," Chuunitrixx says.

Rodias was visibly trembling as Kath seemed more and more inclined to go berserk. Admittedly, he could probably take her on, but...he wasn’t quite sure that he was composed enough to handle a dragon screaming bloody murder at him. Not to mention the fact that Rodias, as a partially undead class, was weak to fire. It wasn’t an impossible fight to win given their extreme level gap, but...Dragons were scary.

A wave of relief washed over Rodias as he saw Kath compose herself, his internal voice cheering her on from within his mind. ”Nice, Kath! A few books isn’t worth losing your cool ove-” he would think, just before Kath ran off to seal herself into the vault...and that’s when he did his best to remain composed himself as a certain shade covered his eyes, a pang of guilt ringing through his gut as he silently and ashamedly listened to Kath shake the very foundation of the Chateau, his face entering the palms of his hands as he groaned quietly. He...really...really messed up. And he genuinely felt remorse for it.

When Kath returned, he hurriedly righted his stance, having forgotten that Ashara was right there with him. ”That’s correct…” Rodias stated, feeling bad about pushing the issue off onto Chuunitrixx...but...it was her fault, in the end. Ashara would give her report, the details of which clearly pleased the Sable Lord. He would accept the Amberlyte, and rather hesitantly accept the coins that had been held between Ashara’s...assets. He supposed it was alright, since they were shielded by the leather bag but...wait, shielded from what!? He wasn’t some shut-in loser now...Rodias could touch all the boob-coins he pleased now! Storing that...incredibly strange mental revelation for later, he would inspect the coins intimately, along with the Amberlyte as Ashara caught his attention once more. Freezing and looking at Ashara as she mentioned someone of equal power stalking them, Rodias couldn’t help but bite the nail of his thumb as he considered the consequences of that...so it was true, that here they weren’t anything special in the food chain. Mars was exceptional as she had said, but this figure was on par with a Chapter Keeper...maybe they were another player from YGGDRASIL?

Once Ashara concluded her report, Rodias would remember himself and stand, smiling. ”Do not feel bad, Ashara. Knowing the country’s name matters little, in the grand scheme of things. But, this town does interest me...especially since their lord seems despised. Perhaps...someone ought to take his place. As for the stronger figure...we can’t rule them out as being hostile, but at the same time, it seems unlikely for them to be. Otherwise, they would have tried to attack Kath, or you. Going off of that...I am glad that both of you are safe. Please, let me know if you ever see that person again. I have a feeling they could be useful. This...Mars, was it?” Rodias said, pacing around Kath and Ashara as he spoke, appreciating the coins and ore that had been brought to him. Gingerly tossing the ore piece up and down, Rodias would say: ”He sounds like a person worth keeping track of. If possible, I’d like to bring that village under our control. This ore, regardless of use to us, must be of worth in this world. If we’re going to be stuck here, we need capital...and freeing the people from their negligent, greedy lord sounds like sufficient reason to endear ourselves. But for now, thank you both for your service to Gothika.”

Bowing his head with a satisfied smile, Rodias would begin to take his leave, feeling that he should drop the Amberlyte off for Graft to analyze. If peasant miners and smiths could work it, then its likely that mass-producing goods would be a cinch with such materials. With the newly activated COIN, he could simply assign a drone to take it to Graft’s floor, leaving the Sable Lord to enter his throne room...and promptly begin shivering in terror at the prospect of how close Kath and Ashara may have just come to losing their lives.

The Sable Lord was afraid...not for loss of himself, but for how dangerous he’d realized that this world really was, for someone of equal power to a Chapter Keeper to just...approach without notice and leave just as easily. He would quickly shake his fears however with a cup of coffee...all before Socrates would arrive to ask for his aid.

Zouyu gasped, looking actually a bit afraid of pissing off the trapper team. ”E-Eh? I-I was only...I’m sorry!” he would hurriedly say, bowing fervently, the continual motion making the weretiger dizzy. He also couldn’t help the slight tinge of pink to his cheeks, enjoying being praised by a higher leveled member of the Chateau. He’d exhausted all of his MP with that stunt, which was mostly since he had prepared a Triple Maximize Magic via Silent Spell, wanting to try and make it more impressive, but he was still glad to be praised.

Once the beast was under Kaldorna’s spell, Zouyu would release the cage, and, at the prospect of riding the great woolie beast, Zouyu literally jumped at the opportunity to do so. Climbing atop and situating his legs, which was an easy feat given that he could lie on the flat of the beast’s back without worry of falling off, Zouyu urged it on, lying on his stomach and gently scratching behind the beast’s ears. ”Good biggie~! We’re gonna take you home, settle you into Kaldorna’s Pens, and you’re gonna make Rodias happy!”

Once Kaldorna rode up beside him, Zouyu would grin, excitedly saying: ”It was a lot of fun, Kaldorna! If I didn’t have to tend to the garden so much, I’d ask to stick around as a hunter full time. Ehehe...Rodias is going to be real proud. Your hunters probably rounded up a ton of those Gorgonbulls, and we’ve got this big thing as a trophy! Its too bad that the other Sable Lords aren’t still here...I bet Sun200 would be impressed that you all captured this big thing. I wonder...if...Yaoishi…prou...of’me...” Zouyu’s speech suddenly slowed and quieted, the ever familiar scent of blood filling Kaldorna’s nose as Zouyu’s grip fell slack, the weretiger falling off of the mammoth straight to the earth, blood trickling from his nose, and his entire form appearing limp.

...Something was definitely wrong. He wasn’t dead, but something had clearly gone wrong enough to have ill side-effects upon him.

The whip proved quite effective for Gromgard’s methods, but not quite good enough to give information worthy of being set free. Cries of mercy, of pleas to tell Gromgard everything only to be followed by them questioning him why he was doing it...frankly, it was the standard fare, torturing fools. Thankfully, mortality wasn’t exactly a limitation to torture given the existence of low level healing potions, and basic healing spells. Put simply, Gromgard could have gone for days on end.

And then Light arrived, doing the job of breaking a man over days in the course of a dozen minutes. Pain was effective to break men, but madness itself was always primed to split a man into many facets of himself, myriad reflections of foolishness and genius that each fought tooth and nail to screech out. That and, boobs. She had boobs. Admittedly, while the two not busy getting bosom-smooshed by Light thought that she might be an angel, the eventual shrieking and mad frothing at the mouth their companion convinced them she was the opposite.

They’d tell her any inane detail she’d desire, from explaining that they have three seasons, similar in description to Summer, Fall, and Winter, forty day months that culminated in 14 month years, with minutes and seconds seeming to be roughly the same in terms of measurement. Flavors were sweet, meaty, and ”AHAHAHAHAHAHA”, but that wasn’t a real answer, so that one got another lashing. They could definitely have fun in the same room, so long as Gromgard remembered that the voices in his head begging for him to free the goblins from their skinsuits was just imaginary.

At Bone Daddy’s investigation of the surrounding area for the source of the song, he would come to find that, strangely, a sort of grass was growing near where blood had been spilt upon earth, long, white grass with thin tubes whistling softly in the wind in a way that defied explanation. It was as if a master of a woodwind instrument had blessed the ground beneath him to sing. The plant stretched towards the moonlight overhead, curling a bit as the winds buffeted them.

This new world was full of both mystery and beauty in equal parts, and, perhaps for the first time, Bone Daddy would feel the actual freedom of his newfound existence in the New World. ...Or not. Up to him.

Were it possible to look more nonplussed, Rodias wouldn’t know as his brow furrowed at the accusation of sexual harassment, his hands hurriedly withdrawing from Isolde on instinct. ”I...Don’t even know how to answer that. But, its as Salem said. Of the Sable Lords, I’m the last one present within the Chateau. The situation is...complicated, to say the least,” Rodias would say as he looked towards the numerous ESPERs, standing and giving Isolde plenty of space with which to exit her casket.

Standing at his full height of almost seven feet, Rodias felt...comically large. Perhaps its because he was. Or Isolde was just...short. Salem was short as well, but he was a child...or at least had the body of one. Dizzyingly considering how nightmarish attempting to enter doors built for ordinary people in this world, Rodias would stand before his two shorter companions and clear his throat. ”I would never stoop so low as to sully a woman’s virginity in her sleep...Despite what you may think, I was just trying to help you out of your casket. After some...difficulty inputting the password, I managed to reactivate you and your floor.”

While Chuunitrixx was occupied with expanding her territory, as well as playing Bachelorette with facsimiles of the Chateau's denizens, her mimics were hard at work expanding. The Epsilon Mimics soon found themselves encountering steep walls that had to be surpassed to realize their master's dream; Armies of men that marched uniformly, well equipped with shining spears and armor. And, judging from the uniformity of their equipment and proximity...the nation to the south had a gargantuan army.

This was far more than fifty mimics could handle. Judging from the "aura" given off by the collective group, it wouldn't be far off to estimate each individual low ranking soldier as being around level 20. While not an unbeatable level, the sheer numbers advantage meant that the mimics attempting to fight would almost certainly die, either during battle or from sustaining injuries. Without reinforcements, it was suicide to fight head on.

Delta and Beta's flattening of their areas was one of diligence and elbow grease, while Gamma would find growing amidst the cold a frightfully difficult task. Seeds planted were quickly eaten by frost-flying birds, and the gargantuan woolly beasts that Kaldorna had successfully managed to best were proving to be troublesome to the mimics, only capable of being felled when they hunted in large numbers. Gamma and Beta would certainly prove the most difficult to expand from...albeit, starting a war down south might draw the Ire of Rodias. In ways that might actually force his hand against Chuunitrixx.

As the Lead Survivors reported back, it was Socrates that fielded their trials, before Chuunitrixx was made aware of their plights. He was more than displeased by the setbacks handed to Gamma by the forces of natures; animal should be taught their place in the hierarchical order of power, and made notation for an Extinction Event to occur on the pachyderm-like species via damage-focused Sentries, as well as precision-focused Sentries to work on culling, but not eradicating the bird issue -- their efforts would be appreciated, just elsewhere. Equally, he was concerned about Epsilon's discovery outside the fog of war, as it were, of an army rallied to the south of weak, but sizable number. He would note to reinforce the number with double-and-a-half the Survivors count; it would bring the Village to a Population of 125, but with what they stood to lose...

"I agree," Chuunitrixx says, as she looked over the plans drafted. "If we lose footholds in Gamma and Epsilon, we lose our magical capabilities. That is unallowable, Socrates. Contact Plato, inform him to erase all traces of these beasts at all cost -- all traces, I do stress. Infant to Elder, destroy them," she instructed, "Afterwards, contact Aristotle. Fly no colors, prepare for reinforcements, and expand as quietly as possible. All operations continue non-combatively, but if they prove aggressors... Assimilate all without mercy, but bring me their leadership from child to elder. Am I clear?"

Socrates nodded. "I shall, also, inform Alexander and Leonidas to carry on cautiously, and prepare for their Ascendant. After which, I have business to carry out with Lord Rodias, if you will permit my continued autonomy," he informed, and then requested. Chuunitrixx nodded. "I gave you autonomy for a reason. However, your actions had better not reflect poorly upon me," she says, "And, don't be too mean, okay?"

Socrates smiled; jaw unfolding into a Glasgow Smile. "I never wish such a thing, he says, eyes Silver Knight Londo, before a replica of the resting Buster Rifle appeared on his back, "I shall be the utmost temperate and delicate..."

Chuunitrixx returned to her bedroom, after dealing with Socrates, and receiving a report from Beta on Remona Lizano. It seemed she was a woman of vast tragedy, from bit and pieces of gossip; an ex-Warchemist, a fusion of the Warrior and Alchemist Classes, but had become a POW for an undisclosed number of years, which made her age sketchy, but she didn't seem much older than the middle-age bracket. She didn't seem to express any of her Warchemist skills, however, as she seemed focused entirely in artisan pursuits; her modest homestead littered with unfinished works on canvas and sculptor table. However, what concerned Chuunitrixx was reports of a strangely malignant cough that had forced her to imbue in a complex solution of rare materials to shave off.

Unaccustomed to the concept of disease and sickness, Chuunitrixx didn't have the medical knowledge to really diagnose the root cause from afar, but... inviting her to the Chateau. Rodias would surely disapprove.

Unless... he didn't know...

Chuunitrixx frowned, "There isn't a high enough change of success in bringing her here, nor bringing myself there," she told herself, as she sat aside her eggs. "Unless..."

Chuunitrixx could not finish her thought, before an Alpha Survivor knocked on her door, "My Lady, the magical interference that Our Mother could not determine has been successfully counterscried," she says, "A Sentry Network traced it as soon as it reappeared, and followed it back to her Ladyship, Kath Erine," the Mimic fretted a moment, "She was speaking to his Lordship, Vitaphagus Graft. It would seem, his Lordship was speaking to her Ladyship through some form of messaging spell..." Chuunitrixx tilted her head, "But, Kath was... Kath saw... That means..." Harshly, the Hivequeen's expressions set, as she realized that Graft knew full and well about her eggs, her children, and had his twisted mind set on their existence before they even were. Kath had brought him into her home, and he had stolen things irreplaceable. "I want Kath here. Now. And, Rodias. They have to suffer."

The Alpha Survivor faltered in her step, as her Queen angered. "My Lady, surely her Ladyship and his Majesty are innocent. It wasn't like either had control over the actions of his Lordship, and -- GRURRK~!" In unfathomable agony, the Survivor screamed as Chuunitrixx strangled her with both hands. "I gave you an order," Chuunitrixx growled, as the Mimic was being cannibalized by her touch. "I don't have room for disobedience..." Desperately, the Survivor slapped at Chuunitrixx's hands, as her skin drained of color, and her panelling was exposed. Chuunitrixx ignored her, as she shoved her half-over her balcony, "Begone..."

"Eris, might I suggest a stronger course of action..." Socrates says, clasping his hands over Chuunitrixx's before she could let go. Chuunitrixx looked at the Overseer of the Alpha Survivors, and he guided them all back into the room; closing the balcony door behind them.

---

A few hours later, Socrates and the severely damaged Alpha Survivor walked -- the female carrying a pair of chests around the size of a picnic basket in either hand. Socrates was cheery, as usual, as he held her via a leash to keep her moving. Most of her brain and motor functions had been consumed; she was, essentially, a zombie with a voice and marionette control, at this point. That didn't matter to him, however, as she would serve her purpose well enough.

As they reached the Historia of Academia, Socrates summoned Kath, and the Survivor beamed when she saw Kath. Her left eye rolled back into her head, splitting in half, and spilling vitreous humour, as she cheerily said, "M-M-My Lady pre-presets -- presents... urrrr... presents you... a Graft... a gift... A Graft gift... Oak... Branch... Peace... Olive..." she thrusted the chest forward. "Please, my Ladyship, would you help us take this to his Lordship? Surely, he is more receiving of you than my Lady," Socrates smirked. "We are off to get his Majesty's aid, as well. Surely, an olive branch is even stronger from him.

Socrates hummed, "Oh, and you can open it, by the way. It's not a weapon or anything like that. I promise, but I know, Mimics aren't trustworthy by nature. So, check, if you like."

Kath looked at the chest with uncertainty. Why would Chuunitrixx send an olive branch? Were they at war? Well when she had first discovered that her books had been taken, she certainly would have entertained the idea, but she had thought that matter had been dealt with. When she was told that she could open it if she liked, Kath would do so. It wasn’t because she didn’t trust what was inside, but more to sate her curiosity and continue her desire for discovery. “What have we here,” she said as the hinges squeaked.

It was a vicious syrup; thick and yellow. It sloshed with Kath’s motions, and something floated to the surface... It looked like a chip of something, crimson and thin. It was joined by more; some crimson, and some blue. All swishing in the yellow goo.

Kath looked at the chest’s contents with a raised brow, still unsure of what was inside. Reaching in, she stuck a finger into the syrup to see what it was, before picking up the crimson chip that had floated to the top.

It had a symbol on it: a sword, broken halfway along the blade from the fracture of the crimson chip.

Kath still didn’t seem to understand what all of this was, but she figured that perhaps it would make more sense to Graft than herself. Closing the chest, she would pick it up with ease and lug it down to the Homunculus’ Chapter. I think this will be the first time I’ve set foot inside the Factory. I hope I don’t get lost from its layout

Socrates chuckled, as he guided the broken Survivor to Rodias. Kath’s memory was her strong suit, and, in due time, she’d key in on the scent of egg yolk and recall where she’d seen a red material with the pattern of a sword on it. He was sad he wouldn’t see the moment, though.

Later, however. There was always later.

---

“Oh, Rodias,” Socrated called, looking around. “My Lady has a favor to ask of you...”

Rodias was quick to respond to the summons, stepping through the door leading out from his private quarters. ”You called, Socrates?” he would question, approaching the mimic without a hint of malice to him. He’d gotten over the slights from the other day, it seemed.

As with Kath, Socrates merely presented the Mimic that held the chest. Broken, she stammered through her little song and dance, before presenting the chest. "It's an olive branch. Nothing more. Nothing less," Socrates says. "I'm sure, her Ladyship, Kath Erine, has already made her way to his Lordship, Vitaphagus Graft, to deliver the first half."

"Oh, this is one of two, if I didn't mention. And, you're free to open it, if you like your Majesty. I promise, it's no trap nor trick, nor weapon to attack his Lordship. But, you know Mimics..." Socrates chuckled.

Rodias hummed, examining the chest with just enough caution as to appear hesitant, but not enough to appear fearful of it as he tensely opened the chest.

As with Kath, Rodias would find the chest was all but brimming with a vicious, yellow goo that sloshed with his motion, and also had chips in it; these of yellow and green. "As you can see, no attack nor explosion. Shall we," Socrates asks. "Oak... Olive... Willow... Branch delivery... Message... Graft..." the Survivor stumbled over her own tongue, and she coughed violently, before clearing her throat, "Red-Red-Ready to g-go... Message delivery... Peace..."

Rodias curiously sniffed the chest, looking to Socrates. ”Before you go, would you mind telling me what this...liquid, is?”

Rodias would pick up on the scent of egg yolk, with his sniff. "The only thing someone like his Lordship would seek of my Lady, your Majesty," he says, "Genetic material to experiment with. Surely, he used her Ladyship to spy on my Lady for no other reason than to acquire trade secrets, as he would put it." Socrates smiled, "My Lady decided to save him the trouble of espionage and corporate theft. It is simply the most peaceful solution. That's what you want, right? Peaceful resolutions? Please, see that his Lordship gets what he desires from his spying.

Socrates extended the leash, "Oh, yes, my Lady regrets that she cannot deliver her message in person to his Lordship, but, she gave this Mimic the task, so please, take her with. I must be off, if you've no further questions."

There was a tangible, physically sickening tension to the air as Rodias put two and two together, the Sable Lord’s cape laying limp behind him as he stared at the mess of egg and egg shells before him. His gut turned, his heart grew sick, and the dazzling gleam of a vision he had of seeing small children perhaps for the first time in his life since he himself had been a boy were all trampled. It was...too much. Much too much. Rising up, Rodias would say: ”No, Socrates. That will be all. Here, allow me to save you the trip back,” before in a flash, without even a hint of movement, he would behead Socrates as he approached the other mimic. In an instant, Socrates’ hit points reached 0, giving him so little sensory presence after his death that it was if he would have teleported back to wherever he would spawn with Enderal’s influence. The only thing he could really have seen in Rodias’ approach was resolve...and righteous, unyielding anger.

Looking to the mimic that was to carry the message with him, he asked: ”Would you like a healing potion?” his scowl transitioning into such a natural smile that it could make nerves prickle, as if all things were an act to the great sable lord. And perhaps in light of this...olive branch….all things were just an act. And he was tired. Oh so very tired of acting, rather than doing.

"Vitaphagus Graft..." the Survivor's jaw dropped, as she was speaking a recorded message, "See here, the extent of your overreaching. I've given you the burden of myself. I'm sure you are well, with all your secrets, all your projects... I wish... I could punish you. I wish I could hurt you. Oh, I wish. But, I'm unable to prove that I would be... in the right... so, instead of burning bridges before they are built... I'm giving you what you wanted so desperately you would use Kath Erine to spy on me. My eggs. I even smashed them up, to save you some trouble. They aren't any different than other Mimic Eggs, but I'm sure you don't care. You're a businessman. It's all about the profit for you. That's why you use people, until their convenience ceases. But... with that innovation and drive comes unpredictable pollution... You should have left me to my secrets, as I left you to yours, dear sir. Now, the byproduct of your misactions have polluted Kath Erine and our Lord Rodias. Can you fix that? Can you fix them? Can you put Humpty Dumpty back together again..."

Suddenly, the message ended with a click, and the Mimic whimpered and shuddered, as her MP and HP started tanking where she stood. After a moment of horrible seizure, she crumpled; dead before Rodias.

"Tragic, isn't it? Now, I have to deliver the message. Troublesome..." Socrates says, as he came from behind Rodias and picked up the leash. "Shall we go, your Majesty? Time, and business, wait for no Man, Dhampyr, or Mimic."

Rodias was already in the process of picking up the chest once more, departing without another word. He wasn’t going to give Socrates the satisfaction of a response. He’d just do it.

Socrates followed. Rodias was learning, little by painful experience, leading was not as easy, as one could hope. Such was the lesson, the Overseer intended to teach. Now, to see what came of this...

---

With dialogue from @Guess Who and @The Irish Tree

The footsteps of the Sable Lord would echo out onto the factory floor as he stepped free of the elevator, striding forward while holding the second chest containing the remnants of Chuunitrixx’s shattered eggs. Figuring that Socrates’ presence would stir hostility if he just barged in, Rodias figured it would be best to petition a guard for a meeting with the factory director.

Turning his head back towards Socrates while he waited, Rodias would say: ”So, tell me...what’s your game? No, really. You're probably the most impossible to imagine thing ever being birthed from Enderal.”

"Enderall" Socrates says, clearly irked by the mispronunciation. "As for me, I am but a humble manifestation of a meager facet of the grand complexity of my Lady," he says, "Like a grandchild, to put in simple terms, seeking to do grandly by his Grandmother, and make his Mother proud of him." Socrates smirked, "If you hate me, you'll love my brothers."

Rodias would note, he never answered the question; simply spoke around it, and deflected with a masterful, and cheeky, sidenote.

Only a couple moments after the two entered, a well-placed wall fixture slid open to extend a bulbous, membranous organ that wiggled in the intruders’ direction. After a brief period of appraisal it seemed to tense up, and it began to emit a resounding, hair-raising howl. It wasn’t loud, but it carried through the facility, and a handful of seconds later Guards appeared, zeroing in on the alert’s origin point from various directions. They looked agitated, keeping their weapons at the ready but not leveled. The ground started shaking even before the last of the Guards appeared, a Team Lead. While not that much larger than the average Guard, his armored exoskeleton was far thicker, heavier, and of higher quality. Several articulate tentacles, like those of his boss’s, extended from him, and the unblinking triple-lense he bore instead of a face fixed attentively on Rodias and Socrates.

Doot doot doot doo, doo-doot doot doot!

The sound came from the Team Lead, followed by the voice of Graft, coming through an Open Line. “Good day. The alert originated from the service elevator, so I must be speaking to an ally, yet the fact that an alert came at all is interesting. To whom do I own the pleasure?”

“Board...member...recognized,” the Team Lead rumbled. “Unknown...organisms...found.”

“Board member, eh? Welcome to my humble domain, Lord Rodias,” Graft said, his tone a little less clinical and more reverent. “But what unknowns do you bring with you?”

”A mimic. One of Chuunitrixx’s advisors that has come to deliver a message directly to you. I figured it would be best to bring him along while I talk to you, as well,” Rodias would state as he looked at the Team Lead. The Sable Lord seemed nonplussed about something, that much was indicative in his tone of voice.

An audible groan came over the line.

"Advisor? My dear sir, you do hold me much higher than expected," Socrates smirked, Rodias's mood seemed to please him; as if, he predicted this outcome was to be, and was reveling in the vindication of his own thoughts. "Socrates, your Lordship, is my name; no relation, of course," he introduced with a tone and how more cordial than anything this displayed, "If you would be so kind, we've much to discuss of your espionage. I'm sure my Lord is brimming with thoughts, are you not?"

”Definitely no relation.” Rodias muttered.

“So, the saga continues.” Graft sighed, which filtered through the Open Line as a hiss of static. “In your infinite wisdom, Rodias, you know that I have health and safety codes to uphold, so I must wonder why you have allowed vermin to follow you down here. If you like, my Guards can dispose of it for you.” Graft offered, as if discussing a bug. “TL, would either of them happen to have a chest with them?”

The juggernaut nodded. “Yes...sir.”

“Hmph. In that case, allow me to repeat what I said the last time a proxy attempted to foist mimic slush on me. No deal.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as if forced to explain obvious things when he had better business to be attending to. “If Chunnitrixx wants to deal with me, she can do so directly, in a forthright and sensible manner, and we can work out the exact terms of any exchanges. I’m not interested in the deficient ravings of the filicidal, especially by proxy.”

”I’ve already tried killing him, Graft. All that does is respawn him back at his home, and leave you with a mess of mimic guts to clean up. Its more efficient to just hear him out, at this point. And, I have business with you beyond this chest of infanticide,” Rodias stated as he looked up at the TL.

A scratching sound came through as Graft thought about how to sort out the misunderstanding. “I don’t care if it’s dead, just that it’s not here. If you don’t let it back in, it won’t be a problem. And it would be the Guards cleaning it up, not me. They’re quite able, I assure you. By the way, you should by no means capitulate to such things. Give a mouse a cookie, and he’ll want milk,” he recited from one of Kath’s books. Already, her wisdom was coming in handy. A moment later he seemed to compose himself. “I would be more than happy to engage with you, but please leave that revolting container behind when you come over. I’ll see that it’s returned to Chunnitrixx. She of all people should know that Salem’s Chapter is the place to dump refuse, not here.”

Socrates tipped on his feet -- heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe -- over and over, like a child waiting from something to end, or a turn to speak. Yet, his face was split clean across its width by a Glasgow Smile; Mimic Panelling and Doppleflesh exposed to reveal his inner nature of an all-consuming beast, and one of heightened intelligence... and yet, the morals of a monster. Rodias didn't have to fear him, yet the human inside knew it was wiser to approach him with a train of conversation suited to his manipulative nature. After all, the Chateau was a large place, and Socrates possessed a Silver Knight on his back.

After a moment, Socrates's face folded back together, and he wiped his lower lip. "My apologies, I get bored when people start to grandstand. My mind wanders to thoughts, such as, "What do they taste like? and "How would I cook them?" and so on." he apologized, before looking at Rodias, "My Lord, might I hold that chest, since it bares you no use?"

Rodias looked back at Socrates, wordlessly observing his monstrous nature before he said: ”These eggs are of no use to anyone, Socrates. But if you want them, then here,” Rodias would state. Looking back to the Lead, Rodias would firmly shake his head. ”While I understand your disgust, Graft, the reality of it is that he is a Chateau residence much like any of us. I plead with you to allow him just a moment of your time. If you do that, I swear you’ll never have to see him in your factory again. On my word, and on my knives.” Rodias said, wondering just why Chuunitrixx made such a...repulsive mimic. To the very minutest aspect, Socrates was a detestable being. And yet, he seemed to have a purpose in everything he did.

“‘Plead with’?” Graft asked, an ever-so-slightly derisive edge in his voice. “No more than considerate word choice on your part, I’m sure. You mean ‘order’, of course. Still, I would wish to hear you say it, sir.”

Socrates smiled, as the chest returned to him, and, quite suddenly, his head unzipped, as he crammed the chest in, and snapped his head shut; the chest snapped and shattered, the lock and hinge cracked and burst, and a bit of yellow spurted from between his lips, as he happily -- no, smugly -- chewed and swallowed. "Oh, pardon me, I made a small mess," he says, rubbing the egg into the floor with his sandal. "As for me, please, my Lord, your hollow promises offered offend me," he says, "This is the outcome I intended. I sent dear, sweet little Kath ahead of us for a reason, Rodias. I wanted Kath, poor, gullible, little girl, to temper and prepare Graft. I wanted him to have a good reason to keep himself in his quarters, and us at the door, my poor, empty Lord," he was grinning that damnedable grin that would haunt Rodias, "I'm a Mimic. I'm a Doppelganger, Greater, at that. We Overseers get a class increase, because more effort is put into us. But, we're still learning... always learning. I appreciate your precision-focused ways, Graft. I'll be sure that your skill is put to invaluable use."

"Thanks for entertaining me, Rodi! You're the best!" Socrates says, in her voice, as cheery as always.

What would follow next would be only heard by Graft, the exquisitely detailed sounds of flesh being cut apart, of Socrates being rended apart, and, lastly of several gunshots being leveled into a puddle of viscera, the gun that Socrates held now smoking in Rodias’ hand as he looked down at Socrates’ remains, which would no doubt soon be restored in full back at Enderall. Stowing the gun in his cloak to return to Chuunitrixx later, Rodias would smile at the Team Lead. ”My apologies for the wait, Graft. Please, allow me to speak to you now,” he would say, as if the sound of an individual being torn apart hadn’t just happened over open communications.

All that Rodias's actions accomplished was a disintegrating mess, a melting gun, and a victorious laughter echoing the Chateau Ground. Socrates couldn't help it. "It's a brand-new day, my friends!" he laughed among the maelstrom that was Chapter VI. As everything was in chaos from Chuunitrixx's uncontrolled emotions. "Now, I have the upper hand in the game, my dear Lord..." he says, before laughing himself to a terminal, and smashing a button, "Administrative Lockout Password Change. Old Password: Power Overwhelming. New Password: There Is No Cow Level." Socrates says, "Chapter Lockdown: Disconnect."

Once again, Chapter VI disappeared off the roster -- only Rodias wasn't taking an elevator in this time. Socrates grinned, "Now, someone needs to clean up this mess. I guess that's me. Good thing I ate."

“It sounds like my Guards will indeed be busy cleaning up,” Graft said offhandedly. “My TL will lead you to my office, sir...”

---

The door slid back, pulled by unseen tendons within the wall, to admit Rodias to Graft’s office. Musty and cluttered as ever, it provided an overload of visual stimulus, and the Director sat at the center of it. Papillary stood directly to his right, more than likely there the whole time. Graft got straight to business, as was his custom. “Sir, while Open Line is a utility skill and not altogether that valuable, particularly for a hivemind organization, it’s still an important asset of mine and a regrettable thing to be copied. I attempted to establish an Open Line to both Chunnitrixx and that snotwad but failed, which means they do not consider me their allies. You’re letting that psychopath and her vermin menagerie run rampant.” He leaned forward, tenting his fingers. “In fact, if I might be so bold, you’re letting all of us run rampant. I thought for sure you’d disapprove at least one of my projects.” He chuckled, as if outing himself for another indiscretion, then continued. “The TL assigned to front door duty somewhat recently reported a vast number of different humans leaving the Chateau. Through analysis of common denominators and reflection on the Chateau’s roster, I’d guess it’s either more mimics or modified Mamoru clones. Tell me you ordered that.“

Rodias closed his eyes, before sighing deeply. ”You’re right Graft. I am letting everyone run rampant. I have been for the last two weeks. I must admit that I’m not used to being in a leadership position...but that’s no suitable excuse. Not anymore,” the Sable Lord would say, taking a seat and promptly sighing. ”Of all the Sable Lords to have been brought here, I doubt that I’m anywhere near the most qualified. Droledge, or Kiss My Axe would have managed this place far better than I have been doing. As such, I feel that I’ll need to reign things back a bit. Get a firmer grip of control over things, so that I don’t lose control. Or worse. Allow someone to get themselves killed.”

Whatever was in the Sable Lord’s mind, it was clear that it had made him realize that he was far from perfect as a leader. Far from the “Pinnacle of CEOs” as Graft had called him in their first meeting. Right now, he felt that he in earnest needed to do things to make the members of Gothika more under control...before someone or something came and tore it all away.

Graft nodded. “Yes. As one boss to another, it is true that sometimes one’s organization can get out of control. A boss that is too lenient will be walked all over, and the company will suffer. When that time comes, it is necessary to demonstrate that you mean business. A leader must identify problems and correct them, without hesitation or remorse. Like healing a wound, what is rotted must be cut and scraped away. If a whole arm or leg is corrupt, it must be sawed off to save the rest. Better to lose a part than the whole, is it not?”

He lowered his voice. Behind his goggles, in the poor light, his eyes were inscrutable. “Has Chuunitrixx not betrayed Bandersnatch? Betrayed us?”

Rodias would sharply exhale, before outright saying: ”No. I do not think she has, Graft. Rather, I just think that I’ve been dealing with her wrong. But, I can still bring her around. That much I am certain of.”

Leaning back again, the Director shrugged. For some reason, he was smiling. No grotesque affair, it haunted his features like a shadow, as if he knew something mildly amusing. His voice came even though his mouth didn’t move. “Then see that you do. I cannot abide by a CEO who is not taken seriously, manipulated and made mockery of by his own employees. If you require help in your endeavors, be assured that my Factory is yours...provided I am repaid, of course. It’s the least you could do for one so unshaking in his loyalty.”

”Speaking of...I wished to speak with you, Graft. Namely on your espionage on Chuunitrixx’s territory. I understand that you wish to perform better than most, but...I have to wonder what you have to gain by learning the methods of others,” Rodias would state, before adding on: ”Frankly, I feel that your methods are the kind best suited to you. Save for this apparent espionage that panicked Chuunitrixx.”

Graft laughed dryly, his face practically bare of humor. “Well, if I did, I’d have everything to gain, really. But want to know something funny? I don’t spy on my allies, usually. I kept the Open Line active on Kath in case the potential threat she encountered returned, and so that I could hear the results of her and Ashara’s scouting. I figured I’d get a report later anyway, but needed the data to start designing the Vis-Types as soon as possible. This ‘espionage’, to which Chuunitrixx overreacted so disgustingly, for which she instigated this farcical quarrel, in which I have no interest and for which I have no time?” He shrugged. “An accident. Apologies.”

He stroked his whiskers in contemplation. “Although I feel her situation would have escalated regardless--really, the fact that someone so much as heard about her dubious exploits causing all this? She’s reaching for anything. Any excuse to do what she wants,” he shook his head, having guided the conversation back toward his adversary.

Rodias would close his eyes, before shaking his head. ”I can’t bring myself to abandon her. Not after...after losing Traptrixx the way I did. I owe it to her creator to help her. To be better than this. I...need to make this Chateau a better place. For everyone here. Chuunitrixx may not seem it, but she is trying to help grow the Chateau in power and size. Her scouts are to bring in supplies to be distributed to the COIN. For the time being, Graft, I appreciate your efforts. But, let me handle Chuunitrixx,” Rodias would say, opening his eyes once more to reveal that they were almost shining with a sense of resolve...and a hint of sorrow.

“Well, your heart is in the right place,” Graft told him, sensing that the meeting was nearing its conclusion. The look in Rodias’ eyes was simultaneously reassuring and offputting. “I hope that you don’t get it pierced for your troubles. As for me, keep her and her vermin out of my hair…” he raised his cap to rub his bald head. “...and as long as I get plentiful resources from COIN, I will be pleased. From your mention of it I take it to be back online, which is the best news I’ve received all week.” He smiled at last, excited by the prospect of refilling his depleted stores.

”I wouldn’t be surprised if her recent episode is going to affect the resources coming back. But, if my current scheme works out, you’ll have plenty of materials to work with within the month. And, do try and close any lines that you open as soon as you’re done, Graft. Have a good day,” Rodias would say as he departed, leaving where he had sat the chunk of Amberlyte that he had received from Ashara, specifically placed to let the light catch upon its brilliant honeyed color.

Three tentacles shot out of Graft as if on springs, seizing the gleaming ore from where it lay and reeling it in. “Of that, you can be certain. Pleasure doing business...” The director swapped to a different pair of lenses and began his analysis.