Leon was elated to see his performance was bringing the fighting to a halt in the hall. Frankly, he had no expectations that such a plan would work. His companion of unfortunate political affiliations was hardly a showman. As far as his abilities were concerned, Firebrand could certainly create lights. But he lacked a sense of grace and beauty needed for such a thing. It still captured the crowd's attention, so Leon wasn’t complaining.
As the crowd gradually slowed its fighting, it became less like a writhing mass of people and weapons and easier to distinguish individual people in it. With that the consequences of the riot were unearthed, despite their cheers now the ground was littered with bodies. It wasn’t something Leon could ignore anymore. Those were dead bodies.
Leon could only continue his performance with the scene in front of him putting a strain on his plastic smile. That was until a heckler called him out and joined him on the table. Leon moved his weight accordingly so it wouldn’t tip over from the drunk’s oafish movements. The crowd was silent and Firebrand had stopped.
The man said his peace. Cursing Leon for what had happened and the people he lost to the conflict. To some degree, Leon felt responsible. He had chosen the lyre over helping these people and now those bodies on the ground paid the price. This was not just a drunken heckler, it was a man that had lost for Leon’s ambitions. Not even the stench of strong alcohol on the man could make him be dismissed.
Leon’s shoulders dropped and the performer’s mask slipped. He wasn’t Leon Solaire, Chosen of the Sun, standing on the table. Just a boy with no name disgusted by what was happening around him. The boy embraced the man knowing that he couldn’t make up for the loss but had little else to give.
Exiting the hug, he turned to the crowd. But he couldn’t face the crowd like this. He brought Leon back, the same routine just without the smile.
“Don’t let this man’s words go to waste. The disgust he feels for what happened here is real, I feel it too. Even if he points his finger in the wrong direction.”
“I was here to give you a show! But I go backstage to prepare for 5 minutes and I come back out to this!? Brother fighting brother. What are you even fighting for? To take down the nobility? Well, I don’t see any nobles in this crowd. The only thing you have to win is to be the king of a sinking ship. The ship is sinking!” With the limited space to move on the table, Leon made a few gestures and steps. But was limited by needing to counterbalance the man on the other side of it.
“I tried to stop you all, I did. But I feel that this man here is the first to finally grab the attention of you all. For that, I thank him. Those he lost can never be brought back, but we can honour their memory by stopping all this.”
Leon shifted his hands down to the surface of the table and transitioned into a one-handed handstand. Then flipped over back into a sitting position on the side of the table. It was a display of incredible balance and acrobatics. His continually serious expression betrayed the whimsicality of such a move. “I say we should put this to a vote.”
“For those who wish to continue fighting for the rule of a doomed riverboat, keep your hands down…"
"But for those who wish to be the survivors of a riverboat that almost sank, raise your hands now and help put an end to this senseless bloodshed.”
They were still going in there. It was only a brief moment when his performance finale had ceased all the fighting. But now it had begun again, too long for comfort and it only worsened. When would it end? Even then he dreaded the idea of what it would all look like after it all went quiet. Leon heard the sound between laboured breaths and was comforted by the cost of using his power so selfishly. At what cost was this lyre won? Would it truly do more good to make up for what is happening now? Who knew, but Leon’s mind delved into the matter. Guilt was not something the boy had often felt in the past.
"You must not be very good at hide-and-seek, seeing as you're just standing about here in the open."
Leon was looking away, out into the water when Carmillia met him under the verandah. The second the sound of her voice reached him, his breathing was suddenly under control and he spun around with a smile. But she heard it, who was he trying to fool and what was he trying to say with such a front. I am Leon Solaire. I am invincible. What a silly display it must seem in Carmillia’s eyes, but to Leon, it held great importance.
Leon chuckled in response to his moonlit companions quip. "It is true. I have never been very good at hiding. But I would like to think I have learned how to be found by the right people." Leon pushed himself off his leaned position on the railing and calmly walked toward Carmillia. Then he reached out a hand as if inviting her to dance. The sound of the riot raged on but he kept a closed-lip smile. "The music is hardly adequate, I know, but I would like to dance while we talk." There were traces of an uncharacteristically serious undertone in Leon's voice. It was certainly a departure from his celebrity persona, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Like a mask starting to slip.
"Your hand won’t slip through me this time. I promise."
Carmillia grabbed Leon’s shoulder when he was just entering the narrow passage, only to fall through him as if it were nothing. Not even the image of Leon reacted to such an attempt. The dance continued down the way, further and further toward the indoor entertainment. The playful noises of partying, music, and a bit too much alcohol had now been replaced with violence, bloodshed, and way too much alcohol. The images of Leons speed up toward it as if the melody in his head had increased in tempo.
Sometime, about halfway through the Leons’ journey down, a small change of expression occurred. One after the other, their smile turned more mischievous while looking back down the hall toward those chasing him, as if some event had amused them.
Very shortly after, through all the commotion and chaos ahead, a voice called out from the entrance to the party lounge. The Arcane mages may have not been able to tell who it was. But Carmillia and the other chasing students would be able to recognise it immediately. “Ladies and gentlemen! Prepare to be amazed! By the one, the only, Leon Solaire!” It was Leon trying to put on a deepened announcer voice, but the three Leons were only being halfway there.
Nothing more of note happened until the Leons reach the end of the passage. First, they converged on a single spot only just inside the hall, they brought their hands up to their mouths for a while as if calling out something. But nothing could be heard from them.
Leon faced toward the crowd raising his arms as if greeting a standing ovation. There were no longer three Leons, just a single one to perform the finale. The following happened simultaneously in magnificent fashion: A cluster of marbles apparated on the ground and a second copy of the first group slowly rose from the same position into Leon’s lowered right arm. Leon’s left arm tossed the lyre forward high into the air, it didn’t look like a particularly hard throw but the lyre moved at an unnatural speed toward the ceiling and then dropped quickly into the crowd as if gravity had doubled for the lyre alone. Finally, another Leon waltzed in from the left exit of the lounge at unnatural speed. This one took weird non-linear movements and passed through a few of the rioters as if it were a ghost but then also took the time to step over some dead ones.
With the lyre now in the crowd, the marbles having disappeared in his hand, and the other Leon milliseconds away from touching him, the first Leon turned on a heel toward the hallway. They both took a bow, the first Leon went first but the second Leon moved much faster so they both finished at the same time. Then the marbles erupted, engulfing the entrance and a considerable portion of the lounge in light glitter as the bowing Leon suddenly disappeared.
Ta da!
Leon stood under the covered verandah just outside the entertainment hall. He held onto the railing as he gazed over the moonlit waters of the river. He was lucky to have found a safe place so close. One could even call it peaceful if it wasn’t for the sounds of unrestrained violence coming from the rest of the boat. For a second, he thought he could also hear it echoing across the river. Maybe it was more of the same on shore. He still chuckled off the high of a perfectly executed performance, in spite of it all.
He took laboured breaths, slinking his arms back into his shoulders as he let his head rest downward. Even if Leon wanted to help, he knew that he was incapable of doing so in his current state. He had only a sliver of magical ability left to work with, his pouch of marbles was emptied out with that last stunt, and even if all that wasn’t the case he doubted he would be able to truly confront what was happening in the entertainment hall.
Sure, Leon had seen a drunken brawl before and that was what he expected to see when he reached the hall. But it was far, far worse than that. It took all his energy to not focus on the chaos around him earlier. He had to step over a few unconscious people to even get outside. At least, his mind couldn’t bear to think that the worst had happened to them.
There was no use dwelling on events he is powerless to stop. All he could do now is wait here and hope the others get out alright.
A loud thud could be heard from the trapdoor leading into the cargo hold. Had Leon been cornered by an opponent in there? Or had he simply found himself locked in? But no other signs of a struggle could be heard following that.
5 seconds pass.
The hatch of the door swings open, and then again, and then again to no accompanying sound. Similarly, Leon Solaire himself popped up in a gracious ta-da from the opening. Then another one did, and another after that, converging on the performer's held pose. And yet, in a strange deviation of character, any noise you would expect from him was drowned out by the surrounding chaos.
The Leons exited the hatch with a jump landing on their feet and began to waltz through the room holding the Lyre in clear view as they pretended to pluck the strings. Each Leon followed the other so closely that the three blurred into one another. Their capes seemed weightless and chaotic as they weren’t beholden to the changes in the wind from various thrown objects and blows. But their movements were incredibly similar, in fact, they were identical aside from being offset milliseconds in time.
To those paying close attention, they would see a marble apparate out of nowhere ahead of him then split into three floating inline upward at a snail's pace, defying any sense of gravity. The marbles start floating upward and back in the direction of the Leons. Eventually, each perfectly landed between their respective Leon’s fingers, as if they hadn’t even tried to catch a marble at all. The Leons were even not looking at the marbles. Instead, they gazed directionlessly out to the chaotic battle with the same plastic smile.
The Leons carried on further in their waltz until an arbitrary point in which they opened their mouths and bit down on the empty air. Soon after, they take an exaggerated inhale before bellowing fire in the direction of Forceful. And yet, it was poorly aimed and off centre from the Traveller’s agent and it didn’t carry any heat as fire would. So aside from the initial shock at seeing the fire, it wouldn’t do anything.
Reaching the entrance to the room, the Leons took a short bow before continuing down the corridor. They continued to move at a constant speed unbothered by the danger around them. Until they passed by Dorothea. The first Leon stopped with the others not too far behind. An expression of concern could be seen on his face and he stopped for a while as if unsure what to do. He began reaching out his hand toward her. But then he shook his head, retreating his hand immediately to continue the dance. The other two Leons did the same as they all continued the waltz out of the corridor.
Just what had happened? One could assume it was all illusory. But an experienced arcane mage would see that none of it (except the flame) was the result of magically conjured light.
Leon stumbled upon landing down in the cargo hold. He felt disoriented and dizzy to such a degree he needed to lean on a nearby crate. Were his marbles that noisy? Noisy was an understatement when his ears were still violently ringing. But no it couldn’t have been and from the looks of things, it couldn’t have been the Traveller’s agents. Could it have been a friendly fire?
He shook the concept out of his head, this was no time to dwell on the thought. Time was ticking and he didn’t need his hearing to carry out the plan. Mustering some strength and biting down on his teeth, Leon pushed himself up off the crate and took in the dark and lifeless hold.
It was hardly surprising this place was locked up tight, not so much as a rat could be seen scurrying around in the shadows. Not that he would be able to hear it. ringing The only signs of movement were tiny drops of water near the side walls. As Leon watched another fall from the ceiling he expected to hear it gently splash at the bottom. ringing. He snickered quietly, for what reason would he need to hear a droplet land.
Leon popped the lid off a nearby barrel with a more reserved sway than his regular galavanting and held it as if it were a seasoned dance partner in a waltz around the ship. While doing so, Leon was channelling a great deal of binding magic into the wooden disk. There was row after row of painfully generic crates and barrels in this place as was to be expected. But Leon knew not to search all of them, why would anyone keep a lyre of the gods in such a boring place. No, it would certainly be in some ornate packaging.
While the dance continued, the barrel top’s wood became more refined and the circular shape gradually moulded into an arc. It was a simple plan really, Leon intended to make a counterfeit copy of the lyre and hand that off to the rowdy mob. The Traveller’s agents would chase it in the hopes they could stop it from being destroyed, only to find out it was already too late and the broken shard of the ‘lyre’ was all that remained. Leon smiled content with his plan.
But wait, what would his team think when they see him throw their objective to the wolves. Leon simply chuckled to himself, it all sounded quite amusing really.
“Ah-ha!” In the sea of dull browns and even duller browns, a cloth of white poked over the top. The lyre was hidden, but not well hidden. Of course, Leon was chosen by fate to hold such an artefact so he expected to find it no matter how much they tucked it away.
“A bit mundane once you see it in person, isn’t it?” said a voice.
Maybe it was that Leon’s ears had recovered faster than he realised, or perhaps it was that the only noises he had to reference before were the ringing and the muted fighting above. But this voice arrived into Leon’s perception clear as day causing the hairs on his arm to stand on end. He paused right before he was about to take off the cloth covering the lyre’s cage and looked around behind him.
“Who’s there? It is rude to address someone from the shadows. Not even bothering to say hello no less.” Leon could keep a visible composure despite how creeped out the situation made him feel. He was so certain he would be alone in here.
“Well then, you have my apologies.” A small, dark-skinned woman stepped out of the shadows. Her hands glowed with arcane energy, providing a degree of light. “Now,” she continued, unbothered, “are you going to steal that holy artifact or not?”
Leon picked up the white cloth and flicked it in the figure’s general direction, unveiling the lyre in the process. With a growing smile and a chuckle he replied. “Of course I am. The question is, who are you and why haven’t you stopped me yet? It takes quite a mage to simply appear out of nowhere.”
She smiled back, and it was neither threatening nor jovial. “I’ll take your compliment in the spirit it was intended, Mr. Solaire: the spirit in which you intend all of your various compliments. As for who I am?” She shrugged. “Some of my friends are just outside, but don’t worry: nobody will be bothering us.” It was about then that Leon noticed the cloth he’d thrown, frozen in midair, so perfectly still that it would’ve taken a profound control over kinetic magic to render it so. Were he especially perceptive, he may have noticed that the rat which had been scurrying across the floor when their exchange began was now completely still, in midstep.
Leon had turned away for a moment to take in the sight of the lyre and begin changing his counterfeit’s colour, a speciality of his. But upon turning back he saw what had transpired, everything suspended as if frozen in time and the figure had changed in appearance. ”Ah…” Leon was no fool and could put two and two together. “Hugo, I presume.” He paused thinking about it for just a bit longer. “Wait, no. The Traveller.” Mildly flustered by the mistake, he regained his composure soon after.
“This whole show is quite impressive, but it doesn’t answer my question. Why am I still holding the lyre?”
An elderly man in a bard’s getup smiled back at him. “As a performer, I think you’d know why.” The Traveler threw out his arms. “The best shows - the ones they come back to see - don’t just give them what they want right away, do they?” He tilted his head and grinned like a puckish old grandfather. “You make them wait for it! You make them work for it. That way, once you give it to them, they’ll value it that much more.” The smile fell away from his face to be replaced by a thoughtful expression. “But I suppose I do owe you a resolution. Pardon my imposition, but I’d like to answer it with a question: Why do you suppose this dusty old instrument is so valuable? Why do the Rednitz want it? Why does old Hugo want it? Why do you?”
Leon smiled toward the Traveller, the now elderly man was speaking his language. ”I’m glad you see it that way. Because you’ll have to wait on this lyre for a while longer yet.” Leon took the lyre out of the cage now holding two identical-looking objects in each hand, well identical without a magnifying glass that is. Or touching the strings, Leon still had yet to learn how to change the material properties so the strings were just incredibly thin wooden strips that looked like string.
“The Rednitz want it for the same reason anyone else unexceptional wants it. They want to put it behind a cage as something to stare at because they believe that will bring them prestige. That being the case, I have done a pretty good job at duplicating the lyre. Don’t you think?”
There was a sizzle of Blood Magic and something subtle about the strings did change. The Traveler nodded. “Only one more trick to learn,” he admitted. Then, his face grew serious. “In the case of the Rednitz, you could not be more right. In the case of the Paradigm, I wish you were.” He shook his head. “That object you are holding – one of them, anyhow - has the power to reconcile the magic that comes from without and the world within which we live. In layman’s terms, it can remove the madness from aberrations. It can make them safe for anyone to absorb, to gain The Gift without fear of harm to their sanity. Now, why do you think that Mr. Hunghorasz wants it?”
Leon saw the strings of the counterfeit change and sensed a strange camaraderie with the figure before him. Perhaps if his own goals did not differ so, he could find himself being friends with the Traveller. But then the next thing said took Leon out of any illusions of cooperation. “Even if that were true, I don’t think many people should have the gift. Unexceptional people start fights and wage wars with mere whispers and false promises. Do you think this boat would still be floating if the riot up top was filled with mages?” Leon chuckled as if it were a joke. But the Traveller could see that the boy put more weight behind that belief than simple humour.
Leon shrugged it off, trying to change the subject. “As for Hugo, well, I can’t imagine what someone like him would want with them. I doubt he needs more power and I am frankly unsure why he doesn’t possess them already.”
Slowly, ruefully, the Traveler shook his head. “That is where you are wrong,” he replied. “It is not the ‘unexceptional’ people who start the wars. It is the unexceptional people who die, en masse, in the wars that those with the Gift start. Look at the reality of the world that you live in! Think through it!” He’d stepped forward now, his bearing passionate. “As for your jest, if this boat was filled with mages, they would not be rioting. If there was true equality and a small, select group were not simply born with advantages that allowed them to fly, to lift more than an elephant, to create flesh and stone from seemingly nothing, to kill a hundred fellow human beings with the flick of a wrist, perhaps they would not assume that such an imbalance was natural, that it was their right to act as gods!”
The Traveler’s image wavered and he became a small boy. “You must know of how the few conspire to breed magic into their bloodlines to the exclusion of all others. Because you are the exception, you now escape the worst of it. Think back to your childhood, though: read between the lines, Leon.” He narrowed his eyes and seemed much older than he appeared. “Remember those days before your renown, before you unexpectedly manifested the Gift. Do you recall the times you slept in the wagon, the cold biting through its canvas covers, the weapons gripped in the hands of your troupe as they travelled? How about the hay beds with the roaches and rats or the bowl of porridge sacrificed by an older member when you needed more?” He paused for a moment. “And what of the times you had to cede the road as some noble passed by in a coach guarded by a small army? The way you were reminded to bow your head before them? What made them better than you: Leon Solaire!?”
A bit of a shiver went down Leon’s spine as the Traveller described the struggles of his earlier life, twisting it into something to enrage him. But Leon simply couldn’t relate. Even when they starved for food, before his delusions of grandeur, there were always people to support him. An upstart noble could knock their egos down once in a while, but everyone would come back from it. And, as Leon started to come into his persona he felt the presence of something driving him forward. He could only look down on petty nobles, for they had no greater ambitions than holding on to prestige.
Whether this presence was real or not, Leon certainly believed it.
Leon’s mood visibly shifted to match that of the Traveller’s young form. One with conviction in his voice. “So… whats the game plan then? Give everyone the power to kill a hundred humans and then peace eternal showers the world just because everyone's the same? We will have to agree to disagree.”
Leon took both lyres and began walking to the trap door, turning away from the Traveller. “Anyway, I’m afraid if you aren’t going to take this lyre from me, I must be on my way. The longer I wait, the more lives are on the line.”
“Far be it from me to impose my will upon another. Those who have come to my side have done so of their own conviction: against the world demanding they not.” For a moment, reality itself seemed to flicker. Then, another version of himself was standing not a foot distant, resting a hand on his shoulder and smiling tightly. “But that is not the case for you. Is it?” The ersatz Leon shook his head slightly and the smile faded.
For a split second, there was a surge of magical power not unlike the semi-familiar feel of aberration, yet the strength of it was like peering down an abyss so vast that you could not imagine an end. “We shall speak again when you are ready to stop loving your chains… and everyone else’s.” Leon felt a squeeze on his shoulder. “Farewell.” Then, the Traveler was gone and the youth remained, holding a pair of Lyres in his hands. It was impossible to tell the genuine article from the reproduction. The cloth that had hung in time during the unsettling conversation fell to the floor belatedly and a startled rat scurried away.
Leon looked back to find the hold empty. He was left to think on the Traveller’s words. In another world, he would lockstep and join forces with the figure. But he couldn’t let the figure’s ideals become a reality, no matter how much conviction was behind them. Peace was the goal, that is what Leon wanted. But uncertainty took him every time.
The letter with the details of his birth sits on his desk, unopened. It is a constant reminder that Leon Solaire is a lie. He was not from the Sun, he was just some unexceptional orphan. Leon clung tightly to the lyre. If he could just take the lyre from Hugo, from the Traveller, it would prove himself exceptional. Then he could burn that letter, for it would be false.
Leon slipped the real lyre under the back of his shirt, utilizing some illusionary magic to help it stick out less. Then with an inhale, he turned his head upward. The insecure boy had gone, Leon Solaire was back. Before he climbed the stairs, he gave a flick of his wrist.
“Fantasia!”
Leon creates a counterfeit of the lyre.
Leon speaks with the Traveller.
Leon prepares to leave the cargo hold, casting Fantasia
“Hmmm…” Leon pondered on the situation while he fidgeted with a number of marbles in his hand. He took in the scenery, the two groups were fighting outside the entrance to the cargo hold. It looked as though the guards were losing, and handily at that. This is the force they use to protect the lyre? How embarrassing.
But something more important had just kicked off. A considerable commotion could be heard from behind them. No doubt the rioters have stumbled across the drunken hooligans. That put Leon on a timer, he needed to complete his plan before that ended. It left a lot up to chance, Leon has neither the insight nor experience to judge how long such a fight would last. So that timer is shortened to ‘as soon as possible’.
“I have a plan to stop the rioters and protect the lyre. But I can’t fight here. If I can get into the cargo hold now, we can call this mission a success.” Leon presented this to his fellow students with confidence and certainty in his voice. Whether it was true or not was another matter entirely.
Leon threw his arm to the side tossing four marbles into the middle of the scrap. A moment of relative silence passed as the marbles bounced once, twice and then… As if he had perfected the timing, Leon stood up blocking Zarra and Eun-Ji’s sight as painfully bright light erupts from behind him with a high pitched noise to make the ears ring.
“Try to cover me, and good luck!” Leon gave a reassuring smile to the team. He then took off toward the trapdoor hoping that enough of the guards and mages were blinded and that Zarra and Eun-Ji could cover the rest.
Leon flashbangs the room, then runs in toward the cargo hold.
"I see..." So this stakeout operation to uncover the truth about Solomon wouldn't just involve Franz and herself, it seemed the Austrian's companions would be coming with them, well, companion, singular. It had come to her knowledge that a certain Bunga Kurniawan would be assisting them, now that's an individual that Lucy had personally met before - even if briefly - during her search for Sukuro Jinga. Aside from her physical features and voice, Lucy didn't really know much about the Nusantaran Egoist. Then again, there were thousands upon thousands of Polymaths in this island, surely she couldn't be expected to be aware of every single one of them.
Right now, the German Technologist was just sitting on one of the many park benches dotting Bermuda's streets, her petite legs not even long enough to reach the ground as they hung idly in the air. "I've met Frau Kurniawan before, she aided my search of Herr Sukuro yesterday. Therefore, I think she'll be a useful contributor to this endeavour, Herr Steiner." Lucy quipped in Deutsch at the Mesmerologist.
Franz lay on the park bench next to Lucy, his posture far less formal than hers. This was not how he wanted the day to pan out. He hoped Solomon would just be upfront about things. Franz could have concluded his business there and still have time in the day to study. Instead, he would have to track him down in the veil of night.
Staring up at the surrounding trees, Franz let out a sigh while waiting for this new Egoist. Perhaps he could have spent the time on research. But he was unwilling to do so in front of Lucy, who seemed determined to see every part of his day. The situation was less than ideal. The only bright side being the ability to meet yet another Egoist.
Franz turned his attention toward Lucy when she spoke and replied with a smile. "Oh really, that is quite the coincidence. Do you have any idea about her adaptations? I assume none are bat-like." He joked.
Bunga looked at herself in the mirror. Her body and herself looking rather plain. She has taken off her kneesocks and evening gloves, leaving her bare legs and arms visible for everyone to see. On her right palm lies a brush, and on the table below the mirror some black ink.
"Baiklah. Jadi... ah, oke oke. Gambarinnya disini, dan disini, dan disini ya..(Alright so... ok ok. I draw here, here, and here. Right.)" Bunga quipped in Trade Malay as she looked at the book right beside the ink. A mess of scribbles and writings she had made during her time studying at the University of Palembang. Most importantly, however, was the fact that the drawings for her Animalistic formulizations are present.
And all she did was draw those drawings from the paper straight into her bare hands and legs.
"Hmmm..." Bunga sighed to herself. Doing the chore as black ink started covering her hands and legs, patterns upon patterns repeating itself in some mysterious equation only she herself knew intricately. As her legs and arms were filled with ink. She can feel extra appendages forming behind, on top, and besides her.
By the time she finished. Bunga smiled at her efforts. A horn protruding from the side of her head, fox ears on top, and a bushy tail on her backside. The woman couldn't help but indulge a little bit, so she decided to use her new appendages to feel herself. "Ahhh. Lembut banget...(Ahh. It's so soft)" Bunga smiled, hugging her own tail. It really is as soft as one would expect, little wonder why Bunga liked sleeping hugging her own tail.
Indulgences finished. She put on her kneesocks and evening gloves back. Covering her Egoist formulations. Right, time to meet Ryuuko's friends now Bunga guessed. Heading towards the park Ryuuko told her. She hoped that Lucy and this... Franz fellow can be relied upon. She knows Lucy well enough, but Franz? All she's heard from him is that he's a fraud, but let's not judge a person right before meeting him.
"Nein." Lucretia shook her head exactly twice, the twin black ribbons hanging from her beret swaying with the movements, "Not only she lacked any wings and extra arms, she possessed vulpine ears and tail instead, and although she had horns, they were of completely different shape than the Man-Bat's. Frau Kurniawan looked more like a human with animalistic traits rather than a humanoid monster, in which our quarry presented himself as. Furthermore, her Latin fluency was rather lacking, she used odd choices of words that aren't necessarily wrong, just off, whereas I'm confident that the Man-Bat is fluent in the Lingua Franca." The white-haired girl gave her concise explanation regarding the matter. Only a delusional lunatic would suspect that Bunga is the Man-Bat.
...unlike Solomon here, in which Lucy could still be convinced that he's the same one that she met that night. That's why she was here, aside from making sure that Franz wouldn't be successful in his defence of Jeanne of course. Right now, however, they could only play the waiting game until the tanned Egoist's arrival.
And sure enough, like clockwork. The tanned Egoist quickly showed herself. Bunga was wandering around the park a little bit, looking for a petite German woman and a man from Austria, when she slowly turned her head and saw the duo. She's not really familiar with the guy, but one can see Lucreatia's white hair flowing in the wind. It's almost like a signature of hers now that she thought about it.
Quickly walking towards the group. Bunga bowed her head. "Hello everyone. I'm Bunga Kurniawan, an Egoist, I've heard that Ryuuko told us that we should meet in the park yes?"
To say Franz was caught off guard by Bunga's appearance would be an understatement. If she hadn't directly stated her name, he would be questioning whether she was the one they were waiting on. Nevertheless, they needed protection for the upcoming nightly event. He wasn't about to drive her away by being rude and... staring.
With a composed and polite smile, he addressed the Egoist. "Yes, you would be correct. We have some nightly duties we must attend to in order to further the investigation."
"By the way, I must inform you that it does get cold being out after curfew, speaking from personal experience. You may want to have clothes on for it."
Soon enough, the third and last member of their little squad of investigators had arrived, a familiar face that Lucy had only met once, but she's pretty good at recalling faces, and remembering things in general really. The oldest student then introduced herself in Latin, mostly for the benefit of Franz, also hmm... she didn't sound off this time, had she been improving? Lucy only met her yesterday tho... so twas' most likely due to her speaking a simple sentence, just an introduction. Her not-quite-fluent offness only became apparent in more nuanced expressions, such as Bunga's insistence on using the words "woman" and "man" to refer to every single individual, even though a lot of those individuals mentioned were still just girls and boys, merely a single example of many.
Meanwhile, Franz seemed to get along well as he replied to the Nusantaran Egoist, now the conversation had switched over from the mother tongue of the Germans to the Academia Lingua Franca. "Greetings, Miss Kurniawan." Lucy kept her own reaction short, content to let Franz coordinate things.
Bunga smiled at both Miss Königsmahne and Mister Steiner. Smiling politely as she sat on the park bench alongside Lucy. "So, are you two my companions in this little escapade of ours? I can assure you that I can see and hear a great many things, especially when everything is quiet and calm. Which I imagine this night's going to be."
"And don't be so judgemental Mister Franz." Bunga turned her head towards the Mesmerologist. "Looks can be deceiving, but I have the heat protection from the Red Fox's fur coat inside me due to my Egoist equations. I can handle the cold just fine."
Franz's last remark was certainly less about the cold itself and more a reminder for the girl to put on some clothes. But to press the matter would be rude and he wasn't so blunt as to just say it directly.
"Yes I believe this is the team provided you are a capable fighter, Ms Kurniawan. But I must ask before we go any further. Where do you stand on this Bordeaux trial?"
[color= 76c0f0]"Yes, we are."[/color] The youngest of the trio confirmed Bunga's inquiry, that she had indeed found her companions. She noted with keen interest how the Egoist was able to stay warm despite the lack of coverings, interesting, this... Egoism major, had she been too close-minded about its boons so far? While Lucy could see that Egoists elevate their bodies to mythical levels, one thorn remained, the fact that they were sterile meant being an Egoist is an evolutionary dead end. Such a peculiar conundrum...
This was a topic that was currently occupying Lucy's mind even as Franz conversed with Bunga.
"Oh, umm. Yeah! Yeah yeah, I'm a pretty capable fighter. Don't worry about me, being the daughter of spice traders meant that I get access to all kinds of trainers. I'm not sure if you know anything about what I'll talk about next, but I know Silat pretty well."
The woman stood up from her bench and showcased some pretty easy, but nonetheless indicative moves for the martial art, before stopping to answer Franz's second question. "As for Miss Bordeaux, I'm a firm believer that one has to have their deserved day at the trial, and I want to help Miss Bordeaux gather all evidence for her defence. It doesn't seem to make sense to me that Jeanne would burn down a library all willy-nilly like that."
Franz smiled at Bunga's satisfactory answer. It was more than satisfactory. Due to the Egoist's expressiveness, it wasn't difficult to have a decent read on her personality. Her being loosely on the side of the defence was a bonus. At least on a surface level, the two shared the same side. Although Franz seriously doubted the two had much overlapping morality. That could cause a conflict in the future, best to avoid the chance of it during this mission.
"I am quite happy to hear that you support the defence. I think tonight offers to present the evidence we need in the case. I imagine we can share that excitement." Franz delivered in a cheerful, friendly manner then turned serious "However, I can't say a 'pretty capable fighter' sparks much confidence. I'm sure you are aware of our target. Correct me if I am wrong Lucy, but this Bat Egoist seems to be on the stronger end of Egoism. If it came to that, what chance do you think you have of fighting him?"
"But the fact still remains that she burned down a trove of knowledge, some which might've been irreplaceable." Lucy quipped, the mention of Jeanne prompting her to return her attention to the matter at hand. Furthermore, regarding that, Franz already mentioned his reasons why he still tried to defend Jeanne and as much as she wanted otherwise, she couldn't help but see the logic in it, even if it was rather sentimental. Bunga seemed to be in agreement that whether Jeanne was guilty or innocent, the Frenchwoman still deserved a fair trial, let the verdict be done under the watchful eye of Lady Justice.
However, that was for later as they had a more pressing matter at hand, one they couldn't ignore as being careless when facing an Egoist as competent as the Man-Bat would mean none of them would be present at Jeanne's trial anyway. "Hmmm..." Lucretia pondered with a hand on her chin, "I do not know of his prior reputation so I can only speak from my experience the night before. Observation suggested that as strong as he was, he wasn't powerful enough to take on Schwarzritter directly as its durability and destructive potential were simply too much for a being of flesh and blood to sustain, so the Man-Bat opted to evade its attacks instead, making use of its limited operational capability due to my irrational state of panic, hence severely dampening my ability to direct the drone properly." The German Technologist explained.
"Our most effective method in the best-case scenario would be Frau Kurniawan restraining or distracting him so Schwarzritter could land a blow, I think one solid hit will be enough to put him down." Yet, she frowned, "However, as you can see, Schwarzritter isn't present at the moment... so it all falls to Frau Kurniawan should a physical altercation occur."
"Hmmmmm."
Lucy's description of this Manbat person intrigued Bunga. It is to no surprise to her that this Manbat is very strong, but not strong enough to put up against a Technologist automaton, yet this Schwarzi-thingy is not present with Lucretia for the moment. Which brings up an unpleasant conclusion for Bunga.
She has to fight this Egoist herself when blows come to blows, and in terms of pure, raw strength, Bunga knows she's on the backfoot here. As an Egoist scientist, her research is pretty up there, as an Egoist herself?, Bunga's capabilities do rank at the lower end of the scale.
Nonetheless, there are still two possibilities for Bunga, and one of them intrigues her the most, so she's going to ask Lucy and Franz for their opinions on her first thought.
"Lucretia, Franz. How about we just... ask the person?" Bunga proposes. "Could this manbat person injure you Lucy? Because I'm kinda confused why this Manbat person didn't go for the kill immediately after seeing you. So I'm kinda holding on the possibility that he could be reasoned and discussed with."
"Also, are you getting your automaton tonight Lucy? I don't see how a lone technologist, without her technologist invention, can be of much help tonight no?"
Lucy had taken another appeal to justice which Franz simply ignored seeing little value in such a thing. Additionally, her admission that Schwarzritter won't be present for tonight was already known to him.
Bunga brought up a good point about how much use Lucy could really be in tonight's endeavours. If Franz hadn't already experienced the displeasure of curfew, he would be inclined to ask the same question. But no, a technologist was vital to this mission.
"Although I have not been given the choice whether Frau Konigsmahne is present or not, she will be unexpendable to our endeavours. From experience, the doors are locked during curfew via some Technologist invention which I don't know the finer details. Being able to pass through doors at night is vital to keeping us safe from the rumoured monsters." And breaking into Antidevula's home, Franz amusingly thought.
"As for yourself Bunga. I agree with you. I certainly think that talking should be our first plan. From all reports, this Bat Egoist is not above reason and one could argue he is peaceful."
"However, I do not put myself in a cage with a peaceful lion. I will take your avoidance to answer to mean that you are uncertain. I am fine with uncertainty, a little risk is needed in something like this. And my mind is put at ease from how you have answered the questions, you aren't the type to just leave us for dead if things go wrong."
"Ja, a diplomatic exchange will be the best case scenario as the Man-Bat is a being of reason, not some kind of savage beast that his appearance initially suggested. In fact, I was the one who attacked him first under the false pretence that he was hunting me, like a predator, whereas he’s merely observing. Furthermore, he assisted my return to the dorm after my exhaustion overcame my consciousness." The Technologist explained at length, making sure that Bunga understood that physical conflict as a last resort that they should have a contingency plan for, and not the primary method of engagement.
Lucy blinked once at Bunga's inquiry, "Schwarzritter is not a true automaton, he still needs manual instructions from a handler to function. However, true automation is indeed what I strive for in the future, but right now, he's not. I had also lent him to Herr Sukuro for a few days so no, he's not even in my possession right now." To be honest, she was still thinking on how to best answer the tanned Egoist's next point, because a part of her agreed with the assessment, she'd be much more useful with Schwarzritter around, but then Franz came up with an answer that was quite satisfactory.
"Starsteel Formulization, Sukuro Jinga's magnum opus, yes, I have encountered it before, almost succeeding at unravelling it before that contemptible bell chimed in the morning and deactivated the formula, undoing all of my work." Genuine rage bubbled underneath the surface of the white-haired girl's otherwise stoic tone, "I'll certainly be more than willing to tackle the challenge again tonight." Well now, why didn't think of that before? Now she could add one more reason to her participation.
Oh, speaking of Starsteel, "In exchange for Schwarzritter, I have acquired a Starsteeled small chest designed for experimentation. I may as well use the time until the curfew begins to practice. Shall we rendezvous tonight near the Atelier du Moor?" Once she had gotten her confirmation from her fellow mischief-makers, the petite polymath would immediately depart for her dorm, intent on rigorously honing her skill at solving the labyrinthine formulae, every second mattered since the upcoming trial was merely two days away.
"Atelier du Moor huh?" Bunga wondered, knowing what her answer was, but still interested in visiting that place, even though she has no idea where it is. "Sure, I might not know where the place is, but I can look around. And this island isn't so large that I'll spend hours upon hours trying to search the shop. I'll meet all of you there when curfew hits. Until then."
"Selamat tinggal semua!" Bunga spoke in Trade Malay once more, before standing up. "That means see you later in my language."
"Yes, Atelier de Moor sounds adequate. I will see you all there. As for myself, I have other matters to attend to." Franz said his farewells as the two left. As for himself, he sat there a little longer taking in the park air. But he too departed, off to his room for study.
Leon had warmer receptions from Eskand he thought as he saw the entire group more or less ignore him. It wasn’t something disastrous but it did bruise the ego a little bit. Carmilla was whispering off to someone Leon hadn’t meet yet. No doubt shyly admiring him as he expected from Carmilla at this point. But shyness was not a virtue and Leon was left waiting on the portal to open.
As Leon waited on Hugo to progress them, he thought about the team more in-depth.
Carmilla was the one he had the most experience with. While he did enjoy her company, he had yet to learn what she could actually do with magic. Hell, he couldn’t even remember what school of magic she studied. After all this time, he would like to think that she would have displayed something. Shyness is what he chalked it up to. But he wondered if she could actually do anything.
Leon had far more confidence in Eun-Ji’s combat ability by comparison. He had seen it head-on and knew if things got nasty, she would have no problems with fighting. But she was too effective, something that sparks worry when Leon reflects that he barely knows the girl. With a few exchanges and an off-handed date, there was little to go off. Only that she was friendly enough and had a past that prepared her for combat beyond a reasonable degree. Could the friendliness all be a facade?
Manfred was the only other one Leon had seen before and only briefly. It was hard not to let assumptions take to his mind. While Leon could suspend his disbelief when it came to Revidia’s participation in the assassinations, he could not say the same for the bullets of Kerreman’s. Perhaps Manfred could be different, but the military dignity shown in his apparel brought little confidence.
Dorothea is the name he assumed belonged to the girl who was whispering with Carmilla. There were few thoughts he could form on her so far.
And lastly, Zarra… Zarra? Maybe the one talking to the archmage? He couldn’t be sure.
When the portals opened up, Leon was the first to go through. Placing his apple core in the nearest provided bin, or what he assumed to be one at least, he through his momentum forward and his hands toward the ground. With his usual flair, Leon went feet first cartwheeling through the portal.
Before he knew it, Leon was in the Feskan night air sticking the landing with a “ta-da!” Only to find that there was no one around to impress. There was audible commotion all over the place but the old man felt it best to teleport them to an unoccupied space? What a waste of a portal.
Moving past that, Leon waited for the rest of the team. He leaned back against the railing of the upper deck and took in the scenery. It was a nice night really the stars shone high in the sky, the moon above reflecting the sun’s radiance bathed the ship in a pale glow where the ship’s lights had missed. Music and commotion were something he hadn’t been getting enough of since leaving his traveller life behind. A peaceful smile took his face as the ambience whisked his thoughts away.
But all was not perfect. Much like the ugly smoke being poured into the sky, the sounds of aggressive murmuring and a galvanizing speech were taking place. Flipping around to look at the rabble below, Leon frowned as he remembered there was a riot they had to stop. This wasn’t a vacation, he knew that, but couldn’t the wizard with control over time give them a couple of hours of fun first. Leon sighed as he listened in on the speech, he may as well try to understand where they are coming from.
Leon couldn’t imagine blaming a gambling ship for taking his money. An optional luxury being thrust up as an entity where one is helpless to it brings you to poverty. How silly. While he agreed the world shouldn’t belong to those born into wealth, at the same time it didn’t belong to the unexceptional who can’t rise on their own merits. And these people were painfully unexceptional. People who spoke like this could never succeed.
“Well, you heard them down there.” Leon spun around to face the team. “They have plenty more rioters on the shoreline. Someone should go and get the captain to stop the ship.” Leon stepped away from the balcony, looking to leave the gathering. “As for me, I plan to help defend the lyre. Come with me, if you like. But I need to actually find it first.” He directed at no one in particular as he left.
Leon likes Carmilla, but is suspicious that she hasn't shown her magic to him yet. Leon is unsure about Eun-Ji, she is friendly but he can tell she is keeping something back. Leon dislikes Manfred, because bullets were used at multiple assassinations and bullets are associated with Kerreman's Leon takes in the riverboat setting and decides to go defend the lyre, wherever it is.
Leon stood in the massive study of the Forked Tower knowing fully well he didn’t do much to get there. Frankly, he stood by and let his teammates do the work while he just looked like he did. And now he stood among the few that had passed the tests, a select few from the looks of things. Lucky him. But it was still to be seen whether this stroke of luck was of any actual benefit to him.
Besides, there was nothing better to do really. Even if he wanted to leave, it's not like he remembered how he got here so leaving could be just as much of a headache. Leon might as well hear the legendary wizard out, who knows it could be a bit of fun. Pulling out an apple from his pocket, Leon took a bite and began snacking while Hugo spoke.
A normal person would perhaps question why a great wizard like Hugo couldn’t stop all three simultaneously. One who could bend time and space could certainly make a joke out of a few jump start assassins. But Leon was swept away by the portals showing tasks ahead of them. In fact, there was a point when he stopped snacking and paid full attention to the speech.
By the end of it, Leon was quite looking forward to the proceeding events. Well, one of them at least. Dealing with assassins sounded… too violent, and pirates sounded violent and dirty. But a riverboat casino, now that sounded right on the money. From a previous experience, he knew that was just the right place to be. Plus if anyone could turn a riot into an adoring crowd, it was him.
Leon was also dressed for the occasion. He met the rest of his group in full attire with a cape and all. Although it was slightly different from his clothes during the opening parade, it was no less extravagant.
"A night on a riverboat sounds nice this time of year. I hope you all have the right clothes for it. At least one of you, and I won’t say who, is a tad underdressed." Leon continued snacking on his fruit.
The final hours of the evening were quiet and reflective. Leon sat laid back on the windowsill of his bedroom, playing into the open night air. There was too much to consider, too much to stress about. Sure he had some talent in knowing what people wanted, but trying to get his head around this situation stretched his mind to its limits. He felt like no more than a young child trying to grasp the complexities of this world while those who knew more pulled the strings. For the first time in his life, Leon felt anxiety. It was a feeling he had never known before, so he could do little but pluck at the string of his lute hoping they would eventually fade.
The battle for Eskand's ruler had concluded with a boom. Not that Leon had any knowledge of what it was. He could only see the aftermath of it in the distance before the rolling thunder broke upon his room's window. To Leon, that sound only meant one thing. The approaching winds of war had just arrived.
He best head to bed.
Leon's morning routine started much like any other. Wake up, get dressed, style hair, adorn jewellery, and meditate outside for a good few hours. In fact, by the time Leon got notice of the Doge's request, there was very little time until he was due for the meeting.
Wasting no time on meaningless tasks such as putting on a shirt, Leon rushed off toward the Doge's accommodations. He couldn't slow down too much for idle chit chat, but he was able to pick up some details, news and rumour alike, of last night's event. Little of it was surprising but it still sickened Leon to his core.
Maurizio was not one for clandestine manoeuvrings - not unless they were strictly necessary - and this was reflected in the fact that he had simply told Leon Solaire to come up to the Doge's door. Perhaps it was a political play too, though. There were rumours, of course: scurrilous and awful ones that sought to tar Prospero Malatesta with the murder and attempted murders of his rivals. That they could think he would be so unrefined - so obvious! It was insulting. He sipped from a tall glass of water and glanced up at the clock on the wall.
When Leon arrived, he found guards surrounding the Doge's villa. At least a handful had some use of The Gift. These closed in around him, barring his entry.
He paused a safe distance from the guards, taking in the sight. Precautions needed to be taken in such uncertain times, particularly when you are falsely accused of having caused them. Leon believed, at least, that the Doge had not been the sole perpetrator, but others would not view him in such a positive light. So the level of guards was understandable.
What wasn't understandable was the guards standoffish nature to a known ally of the Doge. Leon chuckled to himself. "You must be joking, right? Do you presume to stop the Doge's awaited guest?"
A tall, slender figure appeared in the doorway, silhouette resolving into a human being... or not quite. It was the same servant girl from last time: the yasoi. She was dressed differently, though, almost martially, her long black hair gathered into a loose ponytail draped over one shoulder. "Pentad's sake, you savages. That's Leon Solaire. Let him through." Her accent was one that even Leon, despite his travels, was unaccustomed to hearing. The guards parted immediately, stiffly, eyes darting amongst themselves. "Sorry about them," she said with a smile, glancing over her shoulder at Leon, eyes lingering perhaps a moment too long. "They're constructs, the poor sops.. and they don't even know it yet." She shook her head and rolled her eyes, leading him inside. "Oh, by the way, I'm Ismet'ych'lahin'dichora." She pursed her lips. "You can call me Ismette, though."
"The show of force was less than necessary I have to admit." Leon said following a drawn-out sigh. "Nevertheless, it's nice to see you again. First time I have a name to the face. It's a nice one, I have half a mind to ask you on a date if the circumstances weren't so tense." He meant it, Leon gave off a smile as she turned her head away to lead him down toward the Doge.
As Ismette's head turned and her gaze was off of Leon, his expression reverted to reflect his actual mood. The smile gave away to a stern expression and a furrowed brow. Those guards didn't so much as recognise him and what was that comment on constructs. They don't even know it yet? It was another point on the list that bothered Leon. Could the allegiances of the Doge's guard really be so fickle as to hold him at the gates like that? If so, could he really feel safe around them?
Thoughts like that flooded Leon's head as he walked through the passage. But whenever Ismette looked toward him, he was all smiles.
Ismette, of course, smiled right back, for what else could she do? "Were things any different," she replied, "I might take you up on that." She smiled wanly and led him through a double door. She wasn't all that interested in humans, truth be told. They were such stubby things. Still, he was handsome by their standards and troubled and that was how she liked them. "Try to keep that smile of yours up," she added, pausing before the patio door, "he could use it right now." With that, she pushed them open. "Leon Solaire, my Lord Doge."
Prospero was sitting there quietly in repose: clearly a man in thought. At Leon's entrance, he glanced up and offered a perfunctory smile. "Thank you, Ismette. As soon as you can, luncheon, please."
She bowed, and Leon thought he could pick up something... unpracticed about it, maybe even roguish or mocking, but that would be a stretch. "Right away, milord," she replied, and quickly disappeared, shutting the door behind her with a soft 'click'.
The Doge rose and clasped his hands behind his back. There was no greeting. He seemed distracted. "We have been played for fools," he announced, and Leon could feel his patron's favoured sound-deadening spell take effect once more. Prospero nodded tightly. "Well, I have. You bear no fault, of course."
"You, having been tricked? If you don't mind me asking, to what capacity have you been tricked? Surely, you knew the actions at the conclave would spark conflict." Leon took a seat near the Doge. "Or are you really telling me that you had no part in the conclave's result?"
"Oh, that I knew." Prospero smiled grimly. "The thing is, I think Rouis knew as well. I think Rouis planned for it, and those moves were... very much not public information. Sure, Horik made a show of taunting him, but those two were in bed together." He leaned against the balustrade for a moment and crossed his arms. "You know, I'd have actually failed had they stood together, which leads me to a conclusion that I don't like: the Perrench let me take their seat. Seems they and the Eskandish think there's value in being the victims. Seems Rouis wanted something to galvanize his people, and he got it." The Doge half-turned, gazing out over the quiet section of the city in which his villa was located. "I've gotten careless: an old dog with no new tricks. I'd thought Rouis a blunt instrument because I've so consistently outsmarted him, but I've cause to believe it was a gambit on his part. Even that girl - the Perrench girl who stood up and started singing - was too perfect a coincidence. It was planned. Penny Pellegrin: as a fellow student, you wouldn't know anything about her, would you?"
Leon gave out a sigh after the explanation. "With all due respect, the complexities of politics are lost on me nor do I care to learn them. No matter what plays they decided to make at the conclave, the result remains the same does it not? They are going to wage war because they lost their shiny seats. Whether their people are riled up and singing songs will hardly matter when the fighting starts, no?"
"So, I must say I'm confused that you are asking about a fellow student of mine. All she did was stand up and sing. It seems quite understandable given the circumstance. Or do you suppose there is a higher significance to it all?"
Prospero found himself equal parts irked and amused by the boy's reaction, but one wouldn't have been able to see it from his expression or body language. "People fight wars not because things happen, but because they feel some way about what has happened," he said simply. He'd at least have expected a performer to have understood something like that. "But I suppose this is your way of telling me that you don't have an answer," he concluded. "It's no matter... or one for the people I pay to look after those things for me." He'd more or less fed Leon the significance of it all, so either the youth was uncooperative or else he was not so bright as Prospero had thought.
Do people fight wars because they feel like fighting them? Leon found the idea absurd. People fight wars because their leader waves a shiny stick and they don't really have a say in the matter. That's how Leon saw it anyway. They can be as for or against it as they like, but the result remains the same. Perhaps the Doge really has begun slipping. Leon pondered behind a mask of smiles as he went to pick up an apple.
But maybe he had a point, Leon doubted himself. Was it not the true desire of all to seek peace? Maybe it is the desire of most and a show of injustice was needed to bring them to war.
An appetizer arrived presently: bruschetta in the Livernian style, and the Doge ushered Leon to the table. They had only just seated themselves, and the Doge was reaching for his first serving when the air prickled with a subtle intake of magic. A forearm-sized shard of what appeared to be rough-hewn metal hurtled towards him from due east and a second for Leon from a slightly different direction.
Leon was just able to dodge the projectile, but his apple wasn't so lucky. Whoever just tried to kill him got a bullseye on the juicy fruit as it flew by into the wall behind him. Leon spent little time finding cover behind his chair and getting low down to avoid further danger. "Well shit, guess the failed kings aren't the only ones with assassins on their backs. What's the plan Doge?"
Prospero was not proud of himself, but he froze for a moment. It was imperative that no harm come to Leon. He could not allow inaction on his part to leave his hands stained with the youth's blood. "Ismette, in a word." More projectiles flew at them from other directions but the Doge was already drawing. Part of the bannister and all of his meal disintegrated. Shields materialized out of thin air and blocked the projectiles. His skills as a Binder had not atrophied so greatly. He drew the energy from a third wave and, with a kinetic push, shoved the door open. "Inside!" he shouted at Leon. "And if you've any talent for invisibility, now's the time to use it." Indeed, it appeared that the enemy was closing in. At least four nondescript figures, dressed in casual nondescript clothing, were climbing up towards the balcony. Presently, one leapt, grabbed hold of the railing, and pulled himself over.
Something told Leon that he shouldn't show his capabilities to the Doge or the oncoming attackers. His natural instinct is to save them for the most surprising moment like a performer. However, the prospect of giving away information on his own abilities was one that would make him weaker in future encounters. Surely these assailants had no chance of actually succeeding here.
Reaching into a pouch on his side, Leon pulled out three multi-coloured marbles each nesting between the fingers of his right hand. Without delay, he threw them toward the would-be assassins and took a run for the door.
The marbles in flight would gradually shrink and implode as if they were eating themselves. But a growing light emitting from them and the sound of gathering energy made it clear what they were. The products of Binding magic, and volatile ones at that. The balcony erupted in piercing multicoloured light, temporarily blinding anyone who wasn't looking away.
Leon's trick worked a charm. Two of the assailants stumbled, disoriented. The third and fourth paused. Then, in stepped Ismette. It was not hard to feel the magic both drawn and dispelled. All four collapsed, unconscious. The reason woman strode past, flicking some hair over a shoulder, and picked the Doge's table up in a kinetic grasp. This, she hurled at a nearby balcony, and it struck a figure crouching there, knocking it unconscious. It tumbled into some bushed below. Prospero rose to his full height, blinking away the afterimage of Leon's display. Even though he had turned away, the flash had still nibbled at the edges of his vision.
He clapped the youth on the shoulder. "Well done, my boy. Well done indeed." He drew his hand back, twisting around to scan his surroundings. "And you, Ismette. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she replied, with no formality whatsoever. Was that simply the yasoi way? In any event, Prospero continued, after pursing his lips briefly. "That said, this was amateurish stuff." He shook his head. "Unless there is something I'm missing, they couldn't have imagined they'd succeed..." He spared an uneasy glance at Leon. "It is then my working theory that someone is trying to set us, leaders, at each other's throats. They are fanning the flames, looking to capitalize on any ill-feeling leftover from what were purely political manoeuvrings yesterday." His voice turned solemn. "I have fought wars before when I had to, but I do not like them. I do not like deaths. Somebody is trying to start a war, I fear."
"It would appear that way." Leon patted off his clothes from any dirt it may have collected in the short scuffle. Someone trying to start a war was certain, whether the Doge was truly against them Leon was still deciding. "I believe that concludes the lunch. I'm afraid I have studies this afternoon to attend to."
"Some luncheon," Prospero snorted. "I shall make amends for it at some point. For now, however, take some pastries from Rodrigo as you leave." He was going to offer Leon a place listening to the recording that had been made - even now it was being decoded - but he decided not to. The boy was so disaffected as to have lied. There were no classes on Lepdes afternoons. He smiled easily enough, shook Leon's hand, and sent him on his way. "Do you think we can trust him?" Maurizio asked, appearing beside the Doge. Prospero shook his head gently. "Should I have him monitored?" the head guard prodded but, again, the Doge shook his head. "He will serve our purpose well enough as he is: people have seen and will hear how I was nearly assassinated this day. They will now cast their gaze elsewhere when looking for someone to blame."
For a moment, Maurizio looked at him hesitantly. "Out with it, man," Prospero sighed. "Do we know who was actually behind it?" the big man asked and, for the third time, he was met with a gently shaken head. "No, but I have some idea. It appears that one of our allies might not be a friend after all." He clasped his hands behind his back, businesslike, and pivoted. "For now though, go see to our Rezaindians. Make sure they are well healed, fed, and paid. We may yet need their services again."
Leon had been rude to have dismissed himself from the Doge that quick. Even if his trust in the leader was on the rocks, this was a big mistake. He guessed he could chalk it up to the stress of almost having his life taken plus there would be one task he would do for the Doge. Penny Pellegrin. Whether the Doge's intentions were pure or not, he had marked out a fellow student. This meant that she had some significance and was worth keeping an eye on. Luckily as it happened, they were to be in the same group. Could the Doge have played some part in that, Leon chuckled at how convenient it was.
Leon exited the building with the details of his birth in hand, but he was in no rush to read it yet.
At least Leon wasn't lying. Although classes were off for the day, he was continuing his studies. The encounter today further confirmed that Leon needed a way not only to escape to safety but truly defend himself. To do so he would need to study an aspect of the Arcane that he had only dipped his toes into before. Leon would need to learn to wield fire.
Leon reflects on war starting Leon talks to the Doge about the conclave, Doge asserts that Rouis and Horik had plans behind the conclave Relatively incompetent assassins trying to kill Leon and the Doge and are defeated easily Leon is now set to keep and eye on Penny Leon gains the letter of his birth details and doesn't read it, yet Leon begins practising fire magic
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