@Izurich

Bunga was visibly elated when the small German girl accepted the invitation. But her elation turned into disappointment when the Technologist mentioned Sukoro Jinga's nationality, yah, a Japanese technologist. Not exactly a Nusantaran by any stretch of the imagination, but, trying to keep a positive mood, Bunga imagined that the Technologist would know some Nusantarans himself. Bermuda is a big place after all, so she expects that there might be some Nusantarans present here.

Bunga refuses to believe that she's the only Nusantaran person here.

"Alright then..." She responded to Lucy's statement. "Just so you know, I'm not a Japanese, but since I've already agreed to help search for him, I might as well continue along."

Utilizing her fox ears to great effect, Bunga concentrated and took in all the sounds permeating from all of Bermuda, someone busy doing chores, a bunch of students talking about dating issues, and oh so many more random stuff Bunga picked up. "Hmm, perhaps we have to go somewhere else? So far, all I'm picking from my ears is just random noise." Bunga commented. Further concentrating on finding any mention of Sukoro Jinga, some officials talking about taxes, some men talking about how beautiful some of the women in the campus are located, and a whole miscellaneous things about whatever the hell the students are talking about.

At least most of them are talking about academic matters such as Formulas though, so some silver linings in listening to the conversation.

"Mmm no, didn't hear a single whisper of Sukoro Jinga from here." Bunga said towards Lucy. "Oh and perhaps before we go search and stuff, why don't we introduce ourselves? I'm Bunga Kurniawan, an Egoist from the Majapahit Federation. I research on Animal formulae and how we can replicate them. How about yourself?"

It didn't take much for Hana to regain her equilibrium after being bumped into. "I'm fine. This is something like the second time in as many days that I've met someone this way, believe it or not." If it happened much more often, Hana thought, it would be some sort of cosmic joke. She couldn't quite place the nationality of the blonde girl who'd run into her, but that would hardly be a new thing. Only the absolutely best-prepared of the students could likely identify many of their peers by sight alone.

"I missed most of the fun from earlier this morning, so I figured it was a good day to get around town and take a look at the various work spaces available. Got to stake out a good spot, and all that. I take it you're doing the same?" She pauses, before introducing herself. "I'm Hana Yun. Nice to meet you."

@Psyker Landshark

_{@Jumbus@Yankee@Medili@banjoanjo@Click This}
“Then afford me a meal,” Jeanne replied, indifferent once again as she addressed the Abya Yalan with a Brit’s surname. She gestured towards her surroundings with a rolling of her wrist. “I’ve yet to eat and yet to sit. A brunch would make your interrogation worthwhile.”

It was simply a matter then, of deciding on a locale, hailing a taxi, and ‘enjoying’ the ride there. Whether this was the Fire Witch’s natural mind, one of audacious selfishness, or if she was internally displeased by what had occurred, lashing out in all these small ways, was hard to tell still, but undoubtedly, it would be an awkward trip towards whatever their destination would be.

With a grunt and a few escaped air bubbles, Shou managed to wrench his sword free before he pushed it too far into the pressurized zone. Tapping at border in front of him was almost like pressing his fingers against a film of sort. He could push into it, but it wasn't pleasant at all. His body adjusted to the intensifying pressures as he dived deeper and deeper, so just suddenly being exposed to the stark difference was actually a bit painful. He was reasonably sure he could survive being shoved into the zone, but it wouldn't be without injury.

He shook his hand after he pulled the finger free and huffed before he continued to dive even deeper. Plumbing the depths beneath Bermuda for anything of interest revealed that the island seemed to be situated above an even deeper trench of sorts. Of sorts because it clearly didn't seem to be natural given how it was precisely the shape of the island and allowed the pressurized zone to extend even deeper. There was no way for him to know just how deep at the moment, and his head was starting to hurt a bit from the constant electric buzz. Given the scope of the island, he must have been diving for at least an hour or two by now. Discovering this strange pressurized zone was a start and meant he hadn't just wasted his time. Maybe there was something being trapped at the bottom of the zone? He'd have to see about finding some sort of container that could withstand the pressures and some sun rods. For now though, he swam back up to warmer and clearer waters.

Thankfully the beaches weren't just an afterthought, and some of them had clearly been meant for the students to enjoy. Beyond the various palm trees that provided some shade and greenery to the area, there was also access to fresh water via fountains and a few shower heads. It saved him a trip back to the dorms to get changed as he simply rinsed and rung out his clothes right then and there. Between the sunny afternoon and the warm tropical breeze rolling through the island, he'd be dried off by the time he found a place to eat for lunch.

There were naturally a few spots by the waterfront for the beach-goers, but Shou found himself wandering into the more built-up sectors of the island in search of fare. It also gave him the opportunity to swipe a copy of the newspaper being hawked and he blinked a few times at the headline. "Damn, you are as bad as the rumours," he muttered with a shake of his head as he skimmed over the paper for any other noteworthy news. With his eyes glued there, he started to test out just how best to get his echolocation to function out of the water. As he was in public, he began with a few higher pitched clicks. Something beyond the normal range of human hearing so as to not bother the other students around him.

@Kumbaris @ERode

To the young polymath so self-absorbed in her mission to locate Sukoro Jinga, Bunga's change of mood went completely over Lucretia's head. As far as the white-haired girl was concerned, she had gotten a companion to locate the elusive technologist... Well, until Bunga herself explicitly voiced the misunderstanding. "Hmmm? Oh, I see, so you're not Japanese, yet you called Sukoro Jinga your countryman, that is a paradox." The German girl pondered out loud, but ultimately shrugged her little shoulders, "It doesn't matter, I'd still welcome an ally to assist me. I can assure you that you'll be rewarded for your efforts." Her family had all the funds and resources in the world after all.

The duo spent a few moments just wandering about from public facility to public facility around the area, Lucy continuing on her way to pester every student she met by repeating her question verbatim while Bunga used her enhanced auditory senses to pick up any relevant chatter far better than her shorter partner ever could. So far, however, their efforts bore no fruit, "No, I don't know where he's saying" and random chatters were everything the two received.

...so far anyway.

Not speaking for Bunga, but Lucy showed no indication of giving up. For all of her faults, the German Polymath's capacity for perseverance and focus was legendary. She only stopped accosting students when Bunga spoke up once more, "Then we should move to another location," Lucy was about to do exactly that until the Nusantaran Egoist distracted her with a topic that could've been done later, "Lucretia von Konigsmahne, Technologist, Germany. I'm a polymath engineer." She kept her reply terse as she all but pushed Bunga to continue with their task.

Let's see if they'd have more luck now, only time could tell.

---

“A pleasure as always, Ms Ryuuko. It is my duty to exceed expectations when I can.” Franz replied to Ryuuko. He bowed his head slightly showing a sign of respect for his future colleague.

Franz was glad the others had assumed he was genuinely trying to defend Jeanne’s case. The matter of the fire witch’s mental stability had been the subject of many rumours. Even if the girl wasn’t lying, it isn’t certain that this ‘monster’ truly exists. In truth, Franz did not consider Jeanne innocent. The burning had definitely been caused by her and only some slim gaps in the evidence left a case open to contend. Franz had ulterior motives driving him.

But. There was one person who didn’t seem to buy what Franz’ had said. Jeanne herself. After his whole speech, Franz expected some sort of reaction. A request for his help or even just a look of desperation in her eyes. Franz got nothing as he had expected. Her voice was free of doubt and her eyes held a certainty to them. For all his ability to manipulate a correct response, it was like talking to a brick wall. Such certainty during a time when she is completely helpless speaks to an incredible devotion and belief. Devotion to what, Franz was not so sure.

But what if she was telling the truth? What if this Egoist monster did exist? Sure it didn’t dissuade Franz from his assumptions about the girl’s character. But it was worth looking into. If nothing else, it would help him have some hope of winning this case. In addition, the motives of such a beast could give him a better insight as to why Jeanne was a target.

“Yes, I believe some brunch is in order.” Franz proclaimed in response to Ms Bordeaux. “Although, I would like to address a small matter elsewhere, so I will join you all a bit later.” Franz turned his attention to Nazca. “I have heard about your clockwork avians. Would you be able to lend me one so I can find my way back when my business is concluded? I assume that is within your abilities, no?” He asked with a widening friendly grin.

With that concluded, Franz left the plaza and began making his way to the administrative buildings of Bermuda. Surely if such a beast were to exist, they would be on the student records. Perhaps there are a few French students who have a bone to pick with Ms Bordeaux as well. Maybe it could help get him some dirt on Robespierre. If this 'Egoist monster' ended up being fictional, a dirt throwing match was probably the best option.

---

@Yankee@Medili@banjoanjo@Click This@ERode

---

Ryuuko listened as Jeanne responded to Inti's question. The Frenchwomen admitted that she was indeed the one who burned down the library, as Ryuuko had expected, and that she did so because she were trying to 'smoke out the monster inside'; which meant that there were indeed someone else involved in this whole weird affair also just as Ryuuko had expected. There was of course the possibility that Jeanne were lying, but considering what she knew of Jeanne and the evidences available so far, Ryuuko didn't think that was the case here. "Smoking out an egoist, you said. Hmm. Well sounds to me like this egoist was the one that sent the photograph to the newspaper then... Them, or their accomplice."

After muttering her theory, Ryuuko briefly fell into her own contemplation as the others continued to talk. There were quite a lot of different possibilities as of the moment, most of which Ryuuko didn't really like. It's only our second day on the island, and there's already a bit too many fishiness going around. Typical... Then again, she herself weren't here only to study either. The irony made her suppress a chuckle as she then returned her attention toward the others. Ryuuko noticed Jeanne looking at her, smiling somewhat more warmly than usual. “Mademoiselle Higashiakemi, are you to accompany me to my bedchambers for these three days?”

Jeanne's words made Ryuuko stare at the fiery technologist for a moment, blinking twice. Then she grinned wide in reply, her sharp teeth on full display. "Well, that's quite a suggestion there! And I suppose I might just have do so indeed considering that I will need to keep an eye on you anyway, hmm?" She finished off her sentence with hearty laughter. Surely Jeanne had meant that as a joke of some sort, to tease Ryuuko a little bit instead of to suggest a certain form of intimate encounter... Right? Definitely. No need to read too much into that...

Ryuuko then noticed the bit of discord between Nazca and Jeanne caused by Jeanne's seeming indifference towards her own predicament. It was understandable that Nazca found that to be an annoyance, in all fairness, but Ryuuko would rather not have such kind of awkwardness flying around considering that they will all need to work together regardless of their feelings about it. Thus, she quickly agreed to the idea of talking things through over a brunch. "Ah ah, I wouldn't call it an interrogation, haha. More like a discussion... Quite a lot to smooth over if we're to really get this done right, for the sake of all involved, hmm? Anyway, brunch is a fine idea indeed! I think I spotted a cluster of fine establishments befitting for the occasion on my way here, a variety of Occidental and Oriental eateries which we can chose from. Shall we? Oh and of course, see you later, Franz!"

By then, Ryuuko was very much ready to move on. She haven't had a breakfast herself, and surely talking over food will make the atmosphere between this little gathering of misfits less awkward... At least, just as long as the group doesn't end up going to the sushi shop that she saw among the cluster of eateries. Yeah. Anything but that one, heh. I swear...

@Erode @Click This @Jumbus @Yankee @banjoanjo

Dreams come easily to some. They come and go, forgotten once dreamt. Others have mostly bad dreams, others mostly good. Yet a select few have the same dream which comes to them every time they close their eyes to rest. That is, “rest” in the most superficial of ways. For what is rest if your mind is awake, picking out details in a dream you have seen a dozen times. New and old, all arrayed to in the mind before you on repeat, again and again, every night. At times, trauma does not leave so quietly in the night. It comes as sharp as it was or perhaps, duller than the time it was last felt. But come it does, every night, without fail.

A tiger and a lion, battling in a myriad of different backgrounds. A jungle, a forest, a snowstorm, a desert. Different places but same two animals. At first, it was a stunning sight to watch. Two primal, proud beasts pawing at each other pitilessly as apex predators. Gnashing teeth, extended claws, deep growls. Yet even the best of sights dull the eyes in repetition. It was the same, no matter where the two fought. Same fight, same participants, same outcome. The metaphor to real life was so obvious that it felt like the brain shoving allegory down the throat. The lion, felled in battle with exactly twenty wounds, head bowed with the proud tiger standing over its corpse. A Bengal, of course, to hit the point closer to home.

This time, the duel was fought in tumbling water, strong tides interrupting the familiar staccato of swipes and bites. But even this could not blur how it was the same. Every night, without fail, the same dream which faded like white noise to his eyes. He was muted, inattentive yet giving all the focus he had to the scene before him. To think too much was to break the spell of the dream and come to life again.

Not that there was much to his life now.

And just like that, with a final swipe from orange paws, the lion slumped in crimson water. This was when the dream would stop, focusing on the Gharbi lion twitching in its final death throes. Instead, the tiger shifted in the water, turning to face him in an unexpected move. If Kalil could, he would gasp. A chill would rise in his spine, his fingers would tremble. But in his mind's ocean, the churning of the water prohibited him from moving at all. He felt weightless and thus, powerless. Emerald eyes stared at his own, flecks of azure in theirs while none in his own. His vision zoomed into the bloodstained fangs, the opening jaws, the powerful bite which kept coming closer and closer. He stretched his arm out in front of him to stop those unrelenting teeth-

---

"Pah, fuck!" The heir of Gharbi spat seaweed and seawater, the ocean splashing on to his face. He sat up immediately, trying to come to his senses. Eyes bleary from the intrusion of salty water, it took him a few seconds to realise where he was. Or how little he knew about where he was. His clothes were soaked from head to toe, his turban discarded to his side and its jewels mysteriously missing. He was cold and filled with sand and confused and what the hell was that dream?-

He hissed, the saltwater hitting his left palm on to a- "Wallah, I did not have this last night!" The dream faded in his mind as Kalil honed in on the injury he seemed to maintain from unknown origins.

Quickly using his prodigal dynamicism to dry himself off, Kalil got his bearings and stumbled his way from the beach back to his dorm. By this time, he had just missed the roommate he barely remembers existed, feeling a hangover in the worst way possible. Questioning his choices in going out last night (and smoking whatever was in that flavour the Bengals gave him!), he decided to forgo showering in a bout of laziness and changed into new, simple white robes with a blue turban messily covering his long hair. He wore similarly coloured azure gloves to cover the wounding, a fitted gift courtesy of his employers. Thoughts raced in his head as he tried to recall the last night's events or even what he was up to at the ball but once again-

DING DONG DING DONG

The prodigy jumped out of his mind and walked to the door, expecting that blurry-faced roommate of his to show themselves. He knew by now that breakfast had finished and hoped they brought him something out of kindness. He paused at the door, scratching at his memory to remember the other occupant of his dorm. Tanned skin was all he could remember which seemed to make him shake a little in fear. Why does the name Whitehall ring in his head now?

Alas, there was no stalker behind the door, only a letter with the confusing Bengal seal and a messenger long gone. Kalil only spent a few seconds making sure no one saw what was in his hands before closing the door and fleeing to his room to read it. Curiously, it was in Latin of all things. The handwriting is poor and the characters almost blended together. Whoever the writer was, messenger or not, had to do this in quick time. This did nothing to hide the disdain inside.

As a prodigy, I would have expected early mornings and an eagerness to study in the best university in the world. Not making a fool of yourself in the first formal function of the school year and sleeping in on the next day. In a public place, of all things.

Remember your place, fool. You work for the leaders Dhaka, the entrepreneurs of the Mughals, the hidden network which keep our great nation intact. You work for an organisation which goes past your own selfish needs, a Majesty which surpasses anything on this world, one which no nation and no person is peer. We stand alone. You have succeeded, for now, but if you continue to gallivant as a careless dog, you will be put down as one.

Your stumbling, arrogant dealings have been backed by the coincidence of a lifetime. The sick, old man of Europe has fallen to its own arrogance but stay alert, for deals may change. Alas, the winds have changed and you have been given another assignment. It smells of burning, doesn't it mutt?

A fool has burned down a library. Where you may smell foul play or an arson's work, we smell opportunity. Read carefully, mutt, or you may prove too worthless to let live.

Remember what is at stake.

The letter continued in the same insulting fashion. A silent Kalil gripped the paper tight in his hands after ashamedly reading the letter several times, to the insult of his own pride. An instinctual calculation later and the paper became embers in his trembling hand. Several names were now engraved in the inside of his skull, a mantra to listen to on another job. Some familiar, others not. Fear gripped at his heart like a vice, tightening and squeezing.

He took an instinctual, deep breath of his pipe, letting it swirl in hoops. No use on letting fear grip him like this. "And thus, the 'great collaboration' begins."

The Bengal left swiftly in pursuit of his next targets. And perhaps a library.

The Clocktower was beautiful. It was astounding to think of its construction; no Formulization at all! That qualified it as art in Kiran’s opinion. Not that formulized things couldn’t be too, but it was a bit different.

There was even a fountain, and seating in the form of benches. People were taking pictures, which he could understand. However, Kiran merely craned his head up instead, peering at the top. There was a balcony up top which would surely provide a great vista of the academy grounds. Steam gently rolled from its highest point.

Kiran approached the base of the tower, taking note of the basement door. Later. For now, he had a climb ahead of him. Might as well take the scenic route there when he was already there. As he ascended gradually, he only occasionally glanced out and around – the far more interesting view was the exact composition of the tower. When simple observation was not enough, Kiran gently ran his fingers across the array of machinery.

It took him a while to get to the balcony, but it was a worthwhile endeavor, and a pleasant one. At the top, he took a seat, and rested, enjoying the view.
Once he returned all the way down, Kiran stretched, then stood himself determinedly in front of the basement door. Cheekily, he knocked once. Then he laid a palm on the door, and sent a spark of Formulization through it to unlock it.

Valeriya Zhukova

"Valeriya Zhukova. A pleasure, Hana." The blonde Russian smiled. While she did have a job to do, there wasn't exactly a time crunch. Plus, there was still operational security to consider. No need to tip her target off by reapproaching so soon. With that in mind, there was nothing wrong with spending the rest of the afternoon expanding her social circle. Who knows, perhaps this girl would be useful to her interests some time in the future.

Plus, she needed a late lunch and eating alone was for social outcasts.

"I have already secured myself a workshop, actually. I work in weapons development, and so my choice of workspace was limited to being closer to the armory. In any case, if you have time, I was busy working for most of the morning, and I find myself in the need for lunch. I don't suppose you've eaten yet?"

_{@banjoanjo@Yankee@Click This@Medili}
But for all of Ryuuko’s hopes, perhaps it was simply fate that Nazca, who took the lead in finding a restaurant to dine in, lead them into an ostensibly Oriental facility. Perhaps the chimeric Egoist’s claim to fame hadn’t reached the aristocrats of the Royal Society after all, or perhaps this was a direct attack on her after all. Regardless, between the cold and aloof Jeanne, the now-just-slightly-displeased Ryuuko, the inscrutable Lady Whitehall, the disappeared Franz (another good call from Vienna’s Universal Genius, dodging this incendiary setup), and the airheaded Inti, the burden of getting a table and ordering from the group ended up hoisted upon Bang’s shoulders.

Which was tragic too, because the traditional restaurant that was Katsubochi naturally did not have any menu that looked to be suited for brunch.

In a brightly lit part of the restaurant on the second floor, the group of five convened on a raised platform, sitting on cushions beside a low-lying pillow. The tatami mats were comfortable but firm, while the sight outside of the sliding windows offered a good view of the Clocktower and the sliver of ocean water beyond it. Before each of them laid a tray of the usual suspects of a Japanese breakfast: miso soup, natto on rice, grilled mackerel, seaweed salad, and tamagoyaki. Chopsticks were provided, as well as sets of silverware.

Jeanne stared at what was laid before her, nose curling at the stench of fermented soybeans. She took a sip of the soup with a spoon, picked at the seaweed, then settled for eating the mackerel in a few efficient bites. Undoubtedly, this was the behavior of someone wholly unimpressed by the choice, but if Whitehall deigned to play as warden, then so be it.

“I will begin.”

She set down her silverware, leaning against the opening of the window. A balmy breeze brushed against her hair, her eyes gazing outwards briefly before turning to her guards.

“There are two individuals worth speaking of here. If the course of events are truly vexing, then it will be three.”

Click-clack. Jeanne placed the spoon away from the others. “The first. When curfew began and the fog rolled in, I sought to return, but heard footsteps behind me, approaching before then overtaking. The superhuman leaps of an Egoist, upon retrospection. I pursued.”

Click-clack. The knife was placed with the spoon. “As I pursued, I reached an intersection in the roads. Six bullets from a steampistol were fired in my direction. They missed, but someone had shot them. I ignored the gunman. My own chase led me to the Inner Circle.”

Click-clack. The fork was joined the others, a trinity of silverware now on the left side of the tray. “I saw my quarry enter the library from the ceiling. I entered as well. We exchanged words, briefly, but words soon proved meaningless. The library burned well, and it was only when I left did they attack.”

Jeanne pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing the pinprick in her otherwise pale flesh.

“A stinger, attached to a whip-like tail. Wings like a bat, with extremities covered in coarse, black fur. A head like a double-sided battleaxe. To put it simply, an Egoist with the appearance of a devil. They held a camera in their hands and called themselves an…”

Her lips flattened once more, so close yet so far from a smile.

“…Opportunist.”
_{@Izurich@Kumbaris}
While Bunga herself may not have been all that enthused about it, her newfound companion certainly possessed enough tenacity and drive to keep at it. On and on they walked, the Egoist’s ears pricking at every morsel of information she could snag while Lucretia was quickly gaining a new reputation for herself as she bounced from one bystander to another, asking them questions without preamble before abruptly leaving when their answers weren’t progressing in a satisfactory manner. Still, despite being an island city, Bermuda was understandably a small place.

“Huh, heard he was at the library.”
“Wasn’t he negotiating for an atelier?”
“Sukoro? Down by the docks, for sure.”
“Yeah, in one of those Abya Yalan restaurants.”
“…at the beach, maybe? The western one.”

Disparate locations and no vehicular access meant that Lucretia’s legs were shot long before they were done. Was it a disinformation campaign that had them chasing false leads? Were they just unlucky to have missed that Japanese Technologist so many times in a row? Or were they falling victim to non-Oriental people simply being unable to tell the Orientals apart? Still, there were more places to check, and if physical exhaustion alone was enough to curtail the Iron Princess, she would be both shaming herself and her house.

A final tip drew the unlikely pair to a bubble-domed greenhouse, from which large and exotic plants blossomed perpetually. Birds flitted around inside, while the sweet aroma of flower and fruit mixed together. Compared to the organized, if eclectic design of Bermuda’s cityscape, the Elyisum Conservatory portrayed a more natural, chaotic tranquility. Here, the smell of damp earth seeped into the nose. Here, the weight of humid air pressed into the lungs. Here, one could rest, enclosed away from society.

In a pocket of the jungle-like biome, a young man of Japanese descent sat before a canvas, sketching out the vegetation before him with his pencil gripped tightly in his fist. His hair, like the rest of his countrymen, was long and silky but tied back into a neat bun that showed the shapeliness of his skull, while his clothing were loose robes covered by an old apron. Sweat ran down the side of his temple, but his focus remained unperturbed, a serene expression on his features as he drew a cross-section of a rafflesia.

The smell of rot undercut the pleasant air of the conservatory.

This was Sukoro Jinga, the Godhand.
_@Zombehs
While deep waters were tranquil, the chaos of his environment jumbled up his ability to perceive his own echoes. It would take Shou some more time, perhaps some extra adaptations, before his clicks and whirrs could paint as clear of an image of his surroundings as his eyes did…and even then, sound could not capture such fascinating text as what was before him on the pages of the Bermuda Triangle.

Other than Jeanne’s rampage and the possibility of immediate expulsion, there was also the news of the Ottoman Empire’s collapse into civil war, with all the nations around it now sharpening their knives in anticipation for carving up the empire’s carcass. Polymaths hailing from that part of the world are more than welcome to take a leave of absence to travel back to their country for political or familial reasons, and some have already done so. It appeared, then, that while students were invited to Bermuda, there was nothing that actually prevented them from leaving or re-entering either. So long as they could prove their identity, they could return.

Something worth remembering if Shou ever had to report in-person to the mainland.

Outside of those two major events, however, there was news about Sukoro Jinga’s involvement in Bermuda’s curfew system, and a private party had announced a competition to see who could crack it the fastest. Any prospective contestants were to send in their name and suite phone number to the Bermuda Triangle, and the competition itself would be occurring next week. Irrelevant news, of course, to an Egoist blind to the world beyond their eyes. Fraternities, sororities, and all sorts of clubs were formulating as well, the month-long trip on the Queen Titania and the grand social function on the first night in Bermuda doing much to inspire collaboration between peers. The Golden Dawn, Sigma Alpha Beta, Sixth Sea Sailors, and so many more populated the pages of the newspaper. Apparently, in absence of any actual news this early on, the Bermuda Triangle served as a portable advertisement board.

…and of course there were ads already asking for nude models.
_@Jumbus
With a cute little clockwork sparrow stuffed into his pocket, Franz beat a hasty retreat before he could get caught in any unfortunate crossfire between the people who liked Jeanne and the people who clearly didn’t, setting his sights instead towards any sort of administrative building within the Inner Circle. Maximilien, after all, had been appointed by the administration, so it goes without saying that there had to be a building to represent them somewhere.

It wasn’t hard to find in the end, even if it wasn’t within the Inner Circle.

Dour but expansive, the multi-storied City Administrative Center sat west of the Inner Circle, an unattractive, Brutalist building that looked like a collection of massive concrete blocks fused together without heed for symmetry at all. Mirror-like windows formed orderly lines on every floor of the building, while down at the front entrance, there was an orderly line of students as well, some chatting while others waited patiently. Club proposals and room changes looked to be the most common reason for students to be there.

It would be a bit of a wait, if Franz was willing to wait. If he had designs of skipping the queue, that too was possible. Regardless, the Universal Genius would find himself standing in front of a mahogany counter, where a ditzy-looking 30-something with Occidental features sat. “Good morning~” she beamed, her Latin tinged with a Swedish accent, “How may I be of help today, Mr. Steiner?”
_@SgtEasy
By the time Kalil reached the Inner Circle, whatever hubbub surrounding Jeanne’s examination had died off, leaving only the cooling ashes of the Central Monument Library to kick around in. City workers were at the scene by now, the area cordoned off with metal fences while brass machinery and steam engines puttered away quietly. The progress was swift, owing perhaps due to how little actually remained to be moved. The Fire Witch’s work was certainly impressive, but the library itself must have been highly familiar too. All wood, paper, and carpeting. Fuel for blue flame.

There were others, of course, that remained standing. The flames had burned bright enough that they had not spread, and outside of some soot marks, even the adjacent buildings were untouched. The damage done was, in some ways irreversible, but in other ways wholly replaceable. The world of knowledge, at least, was still his oyster.

Now, where would he like to visit?
_@SilverPaw
Before any Formulization could be done, however, Kiran heard the tell-tale rasp of a bolt sliding away, and felt the door push against him. Soon, it creaked open, and an Abya Yalan man in his late 50s, dressed in a smart but rugged suit with native patterns adorning his loosened tie, poked his head out. His dark hair was braided into a ponytail that exposed the deep wrinkles in his forehead, and his expressive eyes warmed upon seeing the one who had knocked.

“Ah, a young one. What’s the occasion here?”

Past him, Kiran could see a brightly lit, but sparse, room. A wicker basket with dried fruits, bread, and a canteen shared space on a small metal table with a flat wooden board, where dozens of lines crisscrossed each other. Black and white stones were placed upon where lines intersected, but the logic of it didn’t form any patterns he could glimpse at a glance.

There were no further doors to see from this angle, however. Just this little room and this old, alone man.

---

Nazca Whitehall... I've got to keep an eye out on this one... In so far as the Abya Yalan Brits' disastrous sense of picking which restaurant to visit went, that is. Of all places they could have went to, she just had to pick a Japanese place. Ryuuko had been trying very hard not to show her exasperation directly, so as to not make the situation even more awkward for the group; a task that she unfortunately hadn't really been successful at as her smile had been accompanied by frequent light twitching of her left eye and lower right lip, especially whenever she looked at Nazca. Heck, what about Vietnamese? Chinese even? Of all the Oriental places to pick... Alas, a Japanese place they had went to indeed and Ryuuko had no choice but to bear with it.

It was a weird few minutes after that, as Ryuuko cannot recall going up to the second floor of the restaurant. Nor can she recall who had ordered the food or such other minor details, her mind seemingly having stopped working in those mysterious few minutes forever lost in the annals of forgotten chimeric dragon memories.

When she came to, the food were already served for everyone in the group. Ryuuko had stared at her portions for a good five seconds, a smile on her face contrasted by eyes that looked very much like the eyes of someone who have just had their beloved loyal pet dog of many years killed from being ran over by a German panzer driven by a maniac with a funny mustache and a bad haircut. After that, she had called for a waiter, asking her for a big bowl to borrow. As soon as the bowl had arrived, she thanked the waiter while simultaneously pouring everything except for the grilled mackerel into the bowl. She then promptly mixed it all together into what was basically a makeshift gruel, all the while keeping a wide grin on her face with her eyes narrowed. "There you go. Much, much better."

Her words were accompanied by a satisfied sigh before she then proceeded to quickly eat the mix by just swallowing them while holding her breath, not bothering to taste them by keeping them on her tongue briefly as she usually did with food that doesn't require the application of her shark-like teeth. The gruel finished in record time, she quickly proceeded to rinse her mouth with a glass of water that she had requested beforehand. She managed not to openly say 'yuck', instead keeping it within her mind instead. Only the mackerel was left, and she left it untouched for now as she focused to listen to Jeanne's words. Jeanne's story had been the actually important thing, after all. Much more important than an unfortunate choice of brunch.

Jeanne's telling of her experience the night before had successfully distracted Ryuuko from her rather foul mood as she listened intently to the French women's every words. So it seemed that Ryuuko's earlier theory had been on track indeed. Or at the very least, it wasn't too far off. "An opportunist with a camera, fancying themselves an overgrown bat. And a mysterious gunner as well. Ha, I see..." As far as Ryuuko was concerned, that made it sounded like there really had been a conspiracy specifically targeting Jeanne. That, or whoever these people were had a very bizarre sense of getting themselves some news story regardless of who became their victim. Or... Well, really there were still way too many possibilities even with these revelations. "Funny that this bat bothered to even admit that, especially considering there likely isn't that many devil-looking bat egoist with a penchant for being opportunistic news vulture here in Bermuda... It likely shouldn't be that difficult to find this "devil"."

Ryuuko spoke no further than that. For now, she wanted to hear what the others think of Jeanne's story first... That, and she wanted to see who ended up being able to enjoy the food and who didn't. Especially the natto. The score as of the moment had been 2 - 0 in favor of the natto being utterly disgusting.

@Erode @Click This @Yankee @banjoanjo

@Kumbaris @ERode

If there was one thing undeniable about Germany, it's the empire's culture of unyielding focus, patience, and perseverance, its tenets of glorifying hard work and the quality of one's craftsmanship. Lucretia certainly possessed these stereotypical traits, then took it to a whole new level, as expected from a savant. She didn't give a single toss to whatever these students thought about her during the search, only whether they had the information she needed or not. The answers they gave were varied and sometimes contradictory, but she would scour every inch of this artificial island if needed be.

Even after her short legs started to tremble, her mind didn't relent as she simply ordered Schwarzritter to unfurl and carry her in its left arm in lieu of a lack of dedicated public transports. After all, this was one of the drone's functions, as her personal chaperon. For better or worse, the strangers Lucy asked after that point would not only find a petite German girl accosting them, but a petite German girl riding on a metal golem's arm instead. One could theorize that Schwarzritter's presence might be the hidden key to the duo's eventual success as the construct's presence subconsciously intimidated her quarries to reveal more information than they would otherwise.

Soon enough, the pair of German Technologist and Nusantaran Egoist arrived at Bermuda's greenhouse, a transparent structure filled with exotic vegetation from all over the world, their lives sustained by the artificially-controlled climate. It even had small critters to complete the biosphere too, an impressive achievement of structural engineering for sure, but Lucy wasn't here for admiration as deep inside this man-made imitation of a jungle was her target.

Finally, the elusive prodigy was here, right before her very eyes. The rotting smell of the largest flower in the world held no sway over Lucy as she commanded Schwarzritter to float through any stray leaves that might be in its way, cradling its mistress until it was a few meters behind the painting young man. It was at this point that Lucy dismounted and made a beeline toward the so-called Godhand.

"Sukoro Jinga," It wasn't a question, a statement instead, Lucretia von Konigsmahne was demanding the older prodigy's attention, "I was on the cusp of success of deciphering the Starsteel Formula, but the formulization was deactivated mere seconds later." Her green eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she remembered that moment in the early morning, the moment that angered her so, "I wish for an object, such a chest, locked with Starsteel so I may continue my efforts. Name your price." No one would take this achievement away from her. No. One.

@Izurich@ERode

Wow. Bunga was particularly entranced by the look of the botanical gardens when they entered. And when Sukoro Jinga was visible. Her interest was even more piqued by the flower the man was studying. A Rafflesia Arnoldii? Here? Bermuda really is some center for innovation isn't it? She personally has seen the flower herself, took some heavy trekking across the Sumatran Jungle, and a few encounters with wild beasts that she easily shooed off once her strength was shown towards the animal. But damn, even the scientists at the University back home struggle to make a Rafflesia bloom inside the local municipal greenhouse, and this Sukoro guy here is studying the flower with little to no effort.

Amazing. Absolutely amazing, the flower of course, but no doubt the fact that this flower is a sight to be seen at all here. She thought to herself. Visibly seeing the flower, the rotting smell of this infamous corpse flower not bothering her at all. The 18 year old busy looking at Sukoro Jinga studying the flower, she herself is an Egoist, but the woman can appreciate a scientist doing his work with passion, even in a subject she has little to no experience personally.

Now that she thought of it, does the University she studied in even have a Technologic studies branch?

The sudden questioning from the German Technologist kicked her off from her daze. As the sudden and aggressive queries from Lucretia stunned her, she knew that Lucretia had a... peculiar way of asking questions, but darn girl. You can stand to be a bit polite perhaps?

"Umm, Lucretia? Perhaps asking Sukoro Jinga such a direct question would not be uhh, productive." Bunga commented on her. "You might anger him y'know? Maybe you can ask him politely. Asking nicely has a tendency to yield better results, at least that's my assessment on the matter."

Of course. Being an Oriental herself, she profusely apologized for Lucretia's perceived rudeness. Asking such a direct question even in her culture would be a death kneel for someone's reputation no matter who they are. "Gomenasai Sukoro-San." Bunga apologized. "But I think that this German woman may not understand Oriental manners. Perhaps we can start over yes? My name is Bunga Kurniawan and she is Lucretia von Konigsmahne. I was wondering if you can perhaps spare this petite German woman here a box with Starsteel Formulization locked into it? She seems to be very interested, and perhaps do you know of any other Nusantarans in this great city? I have been hard pressed trying to find my fellow countrymen, but I just can't seem to find anyone but myself hailing from the Archipelago where I live. Do you perhaps know of some Nusantarans yourself?"

There is a risk she might anger Lucretia for interjecting her this way, but if she gets the Starsteel formulized box and she gets to know where her countrymen are. Then this might be worth it. At least she hopes it will be.

LÊ BẰNG KIỀU

---

Bang picked cautiously at the ‘natto’, popping a small chunk in his mouth with some rice. A surprised smile spread across his face. He prodded at the rest of the side dishes, trying a little bit of each as he listened.

“Ignored… the gunman,” he repeated, incredulous but seemingly amused. “You’re quite the steadfast sort, aren’t you, Miss du Bordeaux.”

Another eager mouthful of natto and mackerel as Ryuuko spoke. He nodded.

“The gunman seems like a prime witness we could get a testimony out of but ‘person with steampistol’ doesn’t seem like anything we can go off at the moment. It would be like searching for an Egoist with brown eyes. You’re right to focus on the ‘devil’. Perhaps the administrative department of this island would have some records on Egoist abilities here? Or we could just ask around for that description.”

Not that everyone here would reveal the true extent of their abilities. Bang knew that all too well. But it was something at least. He turned to Jeanne.

“That… does raise a question though. If you intended to return when curfew broke, why did you pursue that stranger in the dark? Moreover… what did they do to make you attack first?”

---

Franz was in no particular rush and had no interest in causing a scene by trying to skip ahead. He simply waited in line like everyone else until he reached the front desk. He spent the time mingling with the crowds around. Franz would subtly inform people about the witch trial Robespierre saw fit to put on. How awful, who would be next to face the pyre of the rabid Frenchman?

It felt like no time at all before Franz had reached the front desk to be greeted by a kindly Swede. Her general demeanour told Franz that he may be able to get away with a lot more than he was allowed. “Ah, good morning! How are you doing today?” Franz decided to match her cheerful disposition, it seemed like the best approach.

“I don’t mean to use too much of your time. But you may have heard about the demonstration this morning?” Franz’ expression shifted to more of a sombre one. “Well, I have the unfortunate task of opposing Robespierre. I am finding the prospect rather stressful. To go against a man of such renown in legal matters will be challenging given the sheer amount of resources he has… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rope you into my worries.” Franz snuck a smile back as if to portray he was putting on a brave face.

“I am just enquiring about gaining a list of students registered here in Bermuda. I think such information will be essential for my investigation. Picture records would be preferred as well, Miss Bordeaux claims an egoist of a peculiar appearance had provoked to her. I’m sure this won’t be a major ask considering Robespierre will have access to the same files, no?”

---

@ERode

Sitting cross legged on the cushion provided, Inti listened intently to the story Jeanne told. It was a quick story though, no superfluous details or meandering tangents at all. This Frenchwoman was the cool and efficient sort indeed. So there were three actors in this tale: a mysterious "devil"-like Egoist, and equally mysterious gunman, and Jeanne herself. Interesting! Inti wanted to get a look at this Egoist especially, though the mystery itself intrigued him as well. And so he listened, only picking at the food as he'd eaten just before. Most of it was good. One particular item had his face contorting in aversion.

Once Jeanne was finished and the members of her "Defense Team" had a few moments to digest her words, the topic they all started with was of course, that Egoist she mentioned.

"I don't remember anyone that looked like that on the ship, or in the hall yesterday," Inti told the group around a mouthful of rice. His memory was good, though by no means perfect, but he'd been making a habit of remembering every detail of, well, everything since leaving Tawantinsuyu. "So they might not be a student. But that leaves, what, a staff member? Or a..." He paused, struggling for the next word. "Stow-away?"

Ah, wait, there may be another option besides those two. "Or press. If they had a camera, then they are probably the same person that gave the picture to the newspaper that Maximilien mentioned. Unless there were more people involved?"

He looked at Jeanne then. She mentioned a possible third person after all, though she counted herself he didn't know. He also didn't know what it would mean if any of those options for the Egoist's identity were true. Though he would like to find out. Of course, none of this contradicted the fact the Jeanne burned the library down. Franz would have his work cut out for him.

Inti continued to ponder the situation. Bang's question was a good one, and he nodded his head along with it, eager for an answer.

Clockwork Autumn

As it happened, Nazca’s choice of restaurant had been entirely based on the cuisine she had experienced the other night. Despite her unfortunate encounter with some dish that her stomach had not agreed on, she had rather enjoyed the Oriental cuisine out on display at the ball, and it was the Japanese dishes that had especially brought a small to her palate. Vietnamese and Chinese had come in a close second and third, but alas for Ryuuko, after taking the lead of the little arson brunch party, the first restaurant she had come across was the Katsubochi.

Although the British-raised Abyalan girl struggled with the chopsticks, it was clear that she had taken to the Japanese meal, happily downing the entire set with the subtlest smile on her face. The mackerel and the soup was delicious, and the natto had not even fazed her.

Though, she had noticed the frowns and looks of distaste on a few of her fellow students, and couldn’t help but to stare at Ryuuko and wonder what was wrong with the Japanese egoist and her culinary preferences. Surely her break with her country didn’t also mean she absolutely hated the food as well? No, no, that certainly couldn’t be it.

“I see.”

Slowly nursing her miso soup, she returned her attention to what truly mattered, Jeanne’s testimony. Certainly much had occurred in the night after all. To her, at least, it was obvious that the two actors that the Frenchwoman had encountered were likely working in concert. Nazca briefly wondered what bone they would have to pick with Jeanne, but it was clear her reputation preceded her at this point. Still, she couldn’t help but to rub the bridge of her nose at some of the decisions the girl had taken last night. It was absolute insanity, enough to match what had happened to her to begin with.

“A bat with a camera, is it… well, it’s certainly not the only flying thing with a camera that night,” Nazca murmured. She’d only briefly glanced at sections of the film negative that she recovered in the morning—she would have to immediately develop it now, if only for the curiosity of what her hawk might have picked up. “I took photographs of the city after dark with one of my birds to test whether or not they would properly function as a result of the starsteel formulation. It’s doubtful because of the thick fog, but it is possible that I might have captured something useful in relation to what happened last night,” she decided to cautiously offer, omitting any in-depth explanation of the full capabilities of her bird-drones.

“Regardless, I doubt it’s difficult to disguise oneself for a short time on the airship, especially if they were intending to be deceptive enough to attack another student after curfew. They could still be a student.”

"It's nice to meet you, as well." Hana nodded after Valeriya's introduction. Weapons manufacture was quite the area of expertise, but not unusual by any means. There were probably many such people on Bermuda, from across the globe. Why, just from that there was no way to even guess miss Zhukova's major. Anyone from a technologist to even an egoist, should they focus on forging starmetal, could claim as much.

She did, naturally, raise an eyebrow at the admission of weapons development, but made little further comment. "Now that you mention it, I should see if there's any workspace near the hospital, so I could put my talents to use. Hm," she paused to consider things, "I suppose something of a chemistry laboratory could be useful, too, but I can worry about that later."

"And, lunch sounds wonderful. I haven't eaten yet either. I dare say there's too many options for anyone to have found personal favorites just yet, so should we try anywhere nearby? Outside of trying all the different kinds of cuisine the world has to offer, I can't say I have anything that particularly strikes my fancy, today." She would, in fact, simply choose a place at random. And, as they wandered, that place happened to be the same Japanese restaurant already occupied by several of the other students.

_{@banjoanjo@Yankee@Click This@Medili}
“I couldn’t see the gunman, and the gunman missed all six shots,” Jeanne spoke, turning her face towards Bang. “They were low on my list of priorities.”

As the rest of the table fell into discussion, rumination, and interrogation, the Frenchwoman settled back into her seat once more, letting all the white noise wash over her. By nature, a devilbat Egoist of Occidental origins should have been easy to spot during their month-long flight across the known world, and yet, no one recalled any such individual. Being attacked while chasing another appeared to indicate collusion, but most of the bullets didn’t even land anywhere near her. And if the Egoist were an opportunist taking advantage of the scenario that Jeanne had established, what were they hoping to achieve prior to this? It was when Nazca spoke up that the blonde Technologist deigned to speak up again. “Playing at spywork, Miss Whitehall?”

Nothing but a light jab. Nothing but a little prodding from the French to the British. Jeanne moved on just as effortlessly, interlacing her fingers and setting them on the table.

“And as for your question, Bang, it’s simple.” Her fingers tightened, clasping together firmly. “Something stalked me within the mists, and when I attacked, something fled in great bounding leaps. Naturally, I pursued.”

But any Polymath would know that correlation did not imply causation. The case certainly had its share of oddities, of peculiarities.
“For the gunman, it’s a simple task to show you where the shooting occurred.”

Perhaps, of all present, only Nazca would understand what Jeanne was doing as she rolled the right sleeve of her shirt back to reveal a flexible, blackened metal chasis beneath, studded with nodes and circuitry. “Formation Pyre,” she spoke in French, then directed her gaze outside the window.

Against the picturesque sky, it was easy to see.

The trail of black smoke, snaking up to the false heavens.

Jeanne settled back down, her posture perfect and her facade unperturbed.

“One hundred and twenty two meters southwest of that point.”
_{@Izurich@Kumbaris}
There was no response to either Lucretia or Bunga.

Sukoro continued to draw, his pencil gliding smoothly over the canvas, rendering the drawing three-dimensional despite the lack of shading. It was a study, a study of the deathly plant. How its petals peeled away to reveal its bud, how its fibers intertwined to form its body, how the spots and bumps upon it created the sense of a slice of pepperoni or salami. Sweat continued to drip, the Japanese Technologist’s robes clinging to his body, his shoulder moving vigorously while his arm was as stiff as the pencil in his hand.

And after what seemed to be an eternity, he stopped, placing his pencil onto his thigh and letting out a long hiss through his teeth, his entire body seeming to sink down into itself.

Expertly rendered, and yet wholly without expression, his study of the plant was as if through the lens of an impartial creator, neither proclaiming the work good nor bad. His eyes, half-closed turned to the two ladies who had been forced to wait, before his head naturally tilted downwards in an expression of apology. “Pardon me,” the young man spoke, his voice scratchy from a combination of thirst and silence, “I was not ignoring you, but rather simply had other matters to handle first. It is a pleasure, Miss Konigsmahne, Miss Kurniawan.”

He stopped speaking, eyes looking at nothing in particular while he recalled their questions, before continuing. “And yes, I would be happy to provide you with a chest inscribed with my Starsteel Formulization, Miss Konigsmahne. In exchange, could you lend me your Black Knight for a few days, so I may study it?”

It was fair, after all. One work for another. Perfectly acceptable...

“And yet another apology, Miss Kurniawan, but considering my own circumstances, I’ve been endeavouring to avoid, rather than socialize with, others. In regards to that particular part of the world, hrm…” He brought one leg up, crossing it over his knee, and leaned his elbow against it while propping his head up with his palm. “…maybe you could ask Mr. Kieu? I heard he was quite the social sort, compared to myself. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be able to name a Nusantaran Polymath off the top-of-my-head, so even if I saw them, I wouldn’t know them.”

It made sense again, of course. Japan was notoriously insular as a nation.
_@Jumbus
“I’m doing lovely today, thank you! And yes, such a troubling matter to hear of in the morning. I haven’t had the chance to read up on it myself, but, between me and you, I think it’s simply wrong for Mr. Robespierre to defend an arsonist and all. I get that’s what he’s known for but, like, that’s basically a shut-and-closed case, isn’t it?” The lady shook her head. “Makes me troubled, really. Like, I get that you’re all smart and good kids, and the governments that sent you definitely trust you to behave yourselves, but all it takes is one bad Technologist to do something crazy, y’know?”

She blinked, and then her face flushed, her hand moving up to cover her mouth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for rambling on like that. It’s honestly a terrible habit of mine, but, well, I guess that’s to say that I’ll do whatever’s in my power to help you out with the prosecution!”

…there definitely seemed to be a misunderstanding here. Whether Franz chose to correct or maintain this misunderstanding though, was a decision that he’d have to make later.

“That being said, I could certainly hotprint Bermuda’s currently-enrolled students for you though. It won’t have anything that isn’t publicly accessible information though, due to privacy concerns, but there’ll be photos without a doubt. Just, you know, nothing specific like their addresses or anything else their countries would like to keep private.” A slightly awkward smile formed over her expression and she looked off to the side. “…and not all students postured themselves correctly during the photography sessions either, so some of them might look a bit off…”

The Swedish lady recovered from that easily enough though, and directed a bright smile towards Franz.

“I could have it delivered through the Postal Service to your residence by this evening though. Or is there another location you’d like to receive this, Mr. Steiner?”