Lord's Suite, 3F, Truthseekers' Main Headquarters
Lacking the will, the time, as well as the appropriate cleaning supplies and furnishings on top of that, I once again elected to simply throw down the bedroll I've been using to camp outdoors in one corner of the room last night, and the only real comfort to be found from those conditions was the fact that I feel safe enough to take off my armour.
Did it alleviate the soreness accrued? Not all that much, if I had to admit it. Perhaps if I were the sort to move about a great deal in my sleep, but a vacant Vessel is little different from a corpse in either case without me here to inhabit it. I suppose, put like that, there's barely any sense in leaving the armour on when logging out, but it's a habit I don't think I'll kick.
I feel somewhat naked without it, even fully clothed. And looking down at my bare torso, the feel isn't just metaphorical. The trashy shirt my Vessel was conscientiously clad in upon creation was destroyed beyond repair weeks ago, and the accompanying hose aren't holding up any better. Should make a point to visit a Tailor soon, or at least a merchant that stocks some basic linen garb.
Or, perhaps right now would be better. I can't help but feel that my showing up wearing a knock-off of the Empire's most basic, standard-issue armour for its guards and recent recruits is in poor taste. It doesn't need to be too formal - I can't afford anything fancy until the contract is signed and the promised money is handed over for one thing - I just need something to wear when my life isn't being threatened.
Shaking my slightly weather-worn coin pouch, I figure I can afford it with the funds I have on hand. A plain, undyed shirt should cost more than a Stone Silver, same for pants or whatever else if I buy new. The only issue is I don't rightly know where to find a retailer with the town as it was when I arrived.
"Better ask around," I yawn, slowly rising and re-equipping myself temporarily, "Unless my 'admirer' deigns to give directions to a cloth merchant?"
The room is silent, making it seem like I'm talking to an imaginary phantom.
"Didn't think so."
1-Star Employment Bureau, Ground Floor, Truthseekers' Main Headquarters
On my way through the conspicuously empty new addition to the former mansion, my egress is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a familiar face walking through the front door as I reach for the handles.
"Oh! You're online."
Olrica looks about the same as when I last saw her, but if I'm not mistaken she seems a little more at ease, somehow, as compared to the clearly overwrought, overworked Windy and Angelus. As for Morn, who can say for sure? Not I.
The only real difference, as I see it, is that she's updated a couple of pieces of equipment, "So I am. Good morning, Olrica."
She leans back, as if taking in my whole visage through the squinting of her eyelids, "You feel different, boss man."
"That's quite possibly my new aura-type Skill," I posit to her, shuffling slightly backwards to maintain personal space.
Olrica hums dramatically, "Might be, I guess? I dunno, it feels like there's something different beyond whatever that does - I honestly kinda forgot with how busy I've been. Hey, you make any progress on my salary yet? Because I've earned it by now I ought to imagine."
It doesn't appear that Olrica's been informed about the offer from Miss Dawn Waker, surprisingly. I make a snap decision not to drag things out by elaborating ahead of time, "Some. Come tomorrow we start converting our foundation into tangible gains, assuming things are still on track in that regard."
"Oh right, that," Olrica twists her torso around to look behind her, "Yeah, that was tomorrow, huh?"
"Relax, I wouldn't have mentioned it if I could see anyone approaching," I calm her, "Though I'll leave it at that since I am still being treated to the new big shot on the scene's tender loving care. And they can stay as silent as they want, it's not as though I'm unfamiliar with his type."
Olrica's gaze sharpens, "You mean there's one of those soldiers spying on us right now?"
"It's all but guaranteed," I shrug, "Changing the subject, what are you up to?"
"Well, just relaxing, pretty much?" she folds her arms behind her head, "Checked in on Henna, went for a walk around town, you know, see how things are fixing up?"
For a moment it seems like it's my turn to respond when her brow furrows, "Actually, one thing I noticed that might be kinda a big deal? Or would be a bigger deal if not for you-know-what? The local NPCs - they seem...real-er. Smarter, more human, like Henna."
"That isn't all that surprising with everything that's happened," I scratch at my cheek, "I don't know if I explained it already."
"Oh, no, you didn't," Olrica shakes her head, and raises a finger, "Jade and Windy did, though. J wouldn't stop bragging about how she escaped the crypts. Like she didn't die in the first place, but I wasn't about to tell her that..."
"Right," saves me having to repeat myself, "I don't expect it's anything worth worrying about right now, and it was bound to happen regardless. The real issues will start appearing in the next several months once all of Merrow's woken up, or however the hell this actually works. The line is blurry enough as it is without digging any deeper into it."
"Still can't decide if it's worse that I'm not in the same boat as you or not," she smiles pityingly, "Speaking of Henna though, you really should go see her. She didn't exactly bring you up, but it was super obvious she wanted to ask where you were."
"I know," sighing I break eye contact momentarily, "I'll drop by later. I've still got business to attend to that can't really wait. How is she holding up?"
"Not great," Olrica says diplomatically, "Henna seems pretty out of it, honestly, even for her. Tried to get her to go back to sleep but she just mumbled something under her breath about 'laziness' and kicked me out. Didn't feel like forcing the issue, obviously. Not one to meddle where I ain't wanted or even when I am."
"Should be fine for now," I frown, not entirely meaning it, "In any event, I should get a move on. I ought to be back in around an hour or two to hold a meeting, so don't wander off too far because it concerns you too."
"Uh, sure," stepping aside, Olrica's posture stiffens a little, "What about?"
"Addressing some discontent first and foremost," I explain vaguely, "I'll explain more later. As you w-"
She's already walking away. Why does this still somehow surprise me..?
Town Hall, Tridor Plaza, Meteo Town
I intended to head straight here, but even now as I stare up at the staircase leading to Town Hall's main entrance, I find myself prevaricating further. Initially, that was by taking a detour to the now downgraded bank to check on my and the guilds' finances, specifically with regards to the various trade deals I set up for the supplies I offered to sell to the Pavillion of Myriad Dao.
I told myself it was important work I needed to do anyway. That I might as well quickly complete the chore while I was thinking about it.
Truthfully, I don't want to go anywhere near Count Hiolh. Putting aside the obvious animosity he holds toward me, if there's one thing I absolutely hate, it's being subjected to mental interference effects. I can't overstate enough how much I despise having my freewill overridden like that. To be a little more candid, it straight up scares me in a way few things can.
I can handle pain...But I don't handle confinement well, least of all inside my own body. For a mercy, such incidents have been a rarity, but they've been happening all too frequently of late for my comfort.
Fuck it, no matter how much time I spend stood out here trying to rationalise it to myself it's still just procrastinating. I could almost be relieved nobody was here to see me fretting so much were it not for Lady Jannis taking a front row seat.
"A little late to feel embarrassed," I mumble to myself, "Let's just get this over with."
Climbing the stairs, my stomach feels like a rock in my abdomen, slowly descending. I pay it no mind, watching my thoughts and feelings like a hawk for any signs of lingering effects making a return. Mixed with the fear, I note, is a perverse excitement to meet him again which I just as quickly quashed.
Moving through the doors, I find the...manservant looking fellow waiting in front of the counter, atop which sits a tray with gently steaming ornate teacup and an opaque glass bottle of surpassing craftsmanship. Expectedly, I am expected.
"Starlight shines brightly," the man intones a very obscure greeting, "The Commander is not currently receiving visitors. However, he has left instructions to accommodate you."
"Surely it doesn't take too long for a document of this importance to be delivered?" I question curiously. While it might take an ordinary mounted courier several months - if they were to go in a direct, straight line with no care for terrain, weather or health - the Empire can certainly leverage their assets to make it happen in no time at all once the contract is drafted.
"On the contrary," the old soldier shakes his head, "Al'uer Iphogi is currently engaged in communications with the venerable Iempern'ioll Cugosth, and has been since yesterday. The subject of discussion...should not be difficult to infer."
"Should I expect to be able to review the contract in the immediate future?" I glance at the 'refreshments' prepared for my arrival.
He removes a square amulet from his back pocket and presses on its face, causing a projection of a clock to briefly appear from it, "According to the time set aside by the Iempern'ioll Cugosth for this matter, the meeting should draw to a close shortly. You have good timing, it seems."
"Fortuitous, truly," I reply drily, "What's in the bottle?"
"A powerful sedative, specially brewed for use 'midst diplomatic ventures to foreign countries, traditionally speaking," the manservant explains, "Verk Norweit's Clarity, as it is named. This particular blend has been...watered down somewhat so as to be safe for thy consumption, but the effects shouldn't be any less potent. Please be warned, that the ensuing numbing lasts several hours and can in rare cases slow one's bodily functions to a dangerous degree."
"'Verk Norweit's Clarity'...I've heard of similar concoctions, made use of them too," I muse, half to myself, "I wasn't expecting this...consideration. Thank you."
"Cooperation is the guiding principle of the Empire," he smiles peacefully as though quoting religious scripture, "Regardless of the extant circumstances which brought you to this point..."
"A 'reward' for playing along," I finish for him, "I guessed as much, though it's a little lacking to be called such. Never mind, there's no use in complaining to you."
"Indeed there is not, for thy words, actions and attitude mark you a wretched existence undeserving of such courtesy, and no excuses from your lips will change this fact," their voice is oddly cheery, though their words belie a tangible contempt, "'tis only by Al'uer Iphogi's benevolence you still possess a tongue with which to speak."
I almost roll my eyes at him, "I find this blatant and unearned contempt tiresome. No amount of vitriol will be enough to make me solely responsible for the degradation of the Southern Provinces or those who one-sidedly declare themselves my nemesis. The title and holdings I earned fairly, and the Empire only has its neglect of the region to blame for me having that opportunity and shares blame with the Pioneers for the Magpie Demon's lackey making such a mess. After all, as it has been highly stressed to me, the Empire of Stone is a mighty institution of great power, is it not? Such trifling matters would be like scratching an itch, to hear you and the Count talk."
Here I am cleaning up your mess, and receiving only ire in trade. Truly, I am living the lifestyle of a Janitor.
"Excuses of no import," he scoffs, gaze pitying, "Your hand remains the guiding influence, your surpassing greed self-evident. It all amounts to an insult towards the Empire's prestige, a question in the minds of the Citizenry that should not exist, nor must it. Though the Unstained are traditionally occupied by external threats, we each of us have sworn to defend the Empire of Stone from anything that threatens instability or harm. Thus, thy activities combined with thy lack of discernible origin and inexplicable recurrence of life qualify you for the former, accordingly. Thus is my contempt for your continued existence borne, and though I daren't guess as to Al'uer Iphogi's thoughts lightly...this one suspects the same sentiment of His Radiance."
Continuing to argue is futile. We are, after all, both right after a fashion, which doesn't lend itself to an easy conclusion. I am responsible for my actions, and the irresponsibility of the Empire's administration is what enabled them and my enemies in the first place. Whether my verbal sparring partner admits it to themselves or not, these are facts.
"From my perspective, you're giving me far too much credit," I sigh, walking over to the counter, "And blowing it all out of proportion. While I won't deny the need for a response to the situation in Meteo, to send the Unstained Reginlei..? It's bizarre, excessive, and late. No?"
Picking up the cup of tea, the same blend as before, I blow away the wisp of steam before I take a long sip. The soldier, whose name I don't know and don't believe I ever received, remains silent and impassive at my prompting. Hard to tell if it's out of reticence or reluctance. If I had to guess he's fairly high up in the military chain of command, but from everything I've heard about the Council, it's that they - ha - keep their own counsel.
Hahahaaa...That was terrible even by my standards.
Smirking to myself as I rapidly drain the perfectly warmed tea, the manservant twitches, initially I think it's because he misunderstood the expression I was making but his attention seems elsewhere. After a long pause, his eyes refocus on me, "It would appear that the meeting has concluded for the moment. I will inform Al'uer Iphogi of your arrival."
With no further prompting, he vanishes from view with no evidence of his passage. Nary a hint of a breeze nor a sound. Always wondered how that worked, as no matter how much stronger or faster I got, it was like the world didn't care an iota about any of it. My punches could tunnel through ordinary stone, and great distances were devoured by my strides. But the world did not quake at my steps. The winds did not flense my skin and the pressure didn't crush my eyes back into my brain nor did inertia shatter my bones.
Never bothered to ask about it before. A lot of questions I had over the years could stand to be answered, now that I have the freedom and opportunity. Just like the Council keeps important information secret from those they consider beneath them, a lot of knowledge I need is secreted away from the 'undeserving'. Potential solutions to my soul problem included.
"As if I've been acting any different," I grouch, swigging down the unpleasantly syrupy potion, a lump rising in my throat with an unnatural serenity. It's like I'm on morphine, is the closest comparison. Everything is all...floaty and detached. Flexing my fingers, I find it hard to focus on the sensation, and my pupils are dilating randomly for a good half a minute at least before I adjust.
"Since you have adjusted to the potion's effects," the voice of the old soldier intones monotonously behind me, "Thou wilt follow, now. The Commander calls for thy prompt attendance."
"Very well," I respond neutrally, not capable of exhibiting surprise even if his unnoticed return was within the expectations I have of his character.
The moment I lay eyes on the impossibly handsome features of Count Hiolh, a stirring of emotion, deadened yet turgid awakes within the recesses of my consciousness. Pushing aside my discomfort, I avert my gaze and note only minor changes to the interior of the office. Several additional magitech devices occupy the room compared to before; But, still feel incongruent with the Edwardian-styled formal military dress jacket he's wearing, creaseless and with not an accessory misaligned, more than a dozen pins and medals arrayed across his breast.
"You are here," Count Hiolh states, idly organising several stacks of paper into separate piles, licking his fingertips as he flicks through each one to ensure correct order, "Quite convenient. Orpen, summon Mattea and the clerks, 'tis time we concluded this farce."
Orpen - right, that was his name - salutes crisply, "So be it."
"You," the Count fixes me with a sharp stare, "Take a seat while we await their arrival. They will be serving as witnesses to the contract."
"Understood," I pay it no further heed and move to obey, "While we wait, would it be possible to read through the drafted documents?"
He considers it, scratching his sculpted chin, "You may. The terms within should be considered set."
"We'll see about that," I quirk a brow as I reach out to take a proffered sheaf of papers. Very smooth to the touch, but decidedly not the Oathpaper I demanded. For a mere draft, it's not worth the expense.
The terms I set are, more or less, present. But they've seen fit to add a great many clauses, corollaries, references to Imperial legislation I have no way of recognising and slight changes. For one thing, the Stone Platinum they promised to pay has been split down to a 4 Stone Platinum up-front payment, with the remaining funds to be transferred once the information is handed over and verified. If it is found to be a fabrication, there's a bunch of legal-ese that boils down to 'we will be upset with you to the tune of egregious torture and fines until we're satisfied'.
It's all very dull, and I find it easy for the artificially induced calm to make my eyes glaze over and yearn for slumber sweet. However, there are a few points I take issue with. Some of it could be attributed to simple oversight or misunderstanding if you were to feel especially optimistic and generous, but you'd be a fool to consider the Councillors ignorant. It goes without saying that they're going to exploit every little detail they can get away with to avoid conceding ground to me and to wring out more than what was promised to them: They are the ones who are drafting the damn contract to begin with, after all.
Besides, I'm no legal genius, so it could well be there's more to it that I just lack the expertise and experience to spot out. Sure, I've read a lot of contracts in my time, but this is the first time I'm dealing with something this exaggerated personally. Astral Knights had a partnered attorney's office to consult on this crap. I was just part of the muscle, what business of mine was it?
Regardless, I should address what I can to the best of my ability.
Clearing my throat, I look up from the stack of parchment, "I have a number of concerns."
The Count's perfect brow dips and meets, "Concerns? What could possibly concern you?"
"For one thing, when I mentioned exemption from forced conscription, the implication was that Truthseekers would be included, meaning that the organisation would be acknowledged to be the same as any independent officially recognised Guild and not directly affiliated with House Fander. The point was to ensure that my noble status within the Empire would not be exploited as the Council pleased to control my Guild - as the section of the contract which concerns that stipulation stands, Truthseekers can, at least in theory, be treated as my House's private troops and forced to undertake some rather unpleasant work wheresoever it's deemed, heh, 'necessary', such as, just as an example, the most miserable sectors on the frontlines of the Northeast."
"You realise that this would mean that this Guild of yours would, as a result, be disallowed from making use of your...title and...privilege, don't you?" Count Hiolh points out, really chewing on the acknowledgement of my status there.
"That's perfectly fine," I shrug, "In fact, I'd prefer it that way. I can't really afford to be too tied down to the Empire's hierarchy, and doubtless, it'll be less stressful on my compeers to see me flaunting that connection. Truthseekers will earn its bread and wine, through our combined efforts."
Count Hiolh nods, understanding, "A better attitude to take, though your ambition is naked to see."
I scoff, "I hold no greed for a seat on the Council. All we need is the freedom to grow at our own pace without fearing unjust interference, the same as any other guild. Speaking of the Council, I'm surprised that none of them are to be in attendance, which marks a second concern for the legitimacy of this contract. Or is it to go unsigned? Because, and I mean no offence to you personally, you lack the authority to substitute yourself in their place."
Slowly shaking his head, he defers a response to acknowledge the arrival of the tuybencge woman and some snappily dressed Firm I don't recognise which I take to be the clerks that he called for. Two men, one shorter, straight-backed woman of advanced age with a single glove over her right hand. Prosthetic, perhaps? Quite likely, moving from active service to administration isn't an uncommon response to sustaining a permanent injury like the loss of a hand in battle, though if she's highly placed enough to be directly employed by as lofty a personage as Count Hiolh, as with Mr Orpen, it would have to be a personal choice to not have it regrown or reattached.
Curious, but none of my business.
"Identify yourselves: Name and rank," Count Hiolh commands, and I feel an urge to do so even though I'm not being directly addressed.
"Danrien uin Faor, Junior Requisitions Agent."
"Oplid uin Mallac-Jaen, Senior Requisitions Agent."
"Ethyl dun Gloe, Assistant Quartermaster."
"Avan'wer Tuybencge Mattea Kihinje."
"I trust you have been informed of the reason for your arrival?"
"""Yes, we are ever ready to serve the Empire!"""
Unsettling how in-sync they are. Ignoring the heaviness that appears to have settled in my limbs since I sat down, possibly a side-effect of the potion, I stand up to introduce myself as is only proper, "Silver Nosster, recently inaugurated head of House Fander and leader of the Official Guild, Truthseekers."
I'm met by apathy, their gazes locked on Count Hiolh instead, as though I never spoke a word. To be expected. Although I would have thought they'd also have been given the same potion and tea, surely? Perhaps even if they were, it wouldn't do anything to diminish their abject worship of the man. After all, from my understanding, 'Al'uer Iphogi' roughly translates as 'Our Idol'. It doesn't take a genius to understand that isn't normal behaviour.
"Be seated," Count Hiolh instructs with a casual wave of his hand, several additional chairs of fine make appearing from his intraspatial storage to serve them. Makes one wonder what else he has in there.
Sitting back down, he turns to me, "As I was about to explain: The Iempern'ioll Cugosth are currently occupied temporarily with other matters which were put aside during the conference with them. They have been informed of your arrival and will bless us with their time and presence once an opportunity presents itself. Perhaps within the hour? I lack the information to make an accurate judgment."
"Commander, forgive my impertinence, but would that mean that the Cugostha a-are c-coming here, personally?" the youngest Clerk stammers, simultaneously mortified and awestruck.
"Nay, not physically," Count Hiolh frowns, displeased the Clerk spoke out of turn, "The devices here will facilitate their communication, and the signing of the contract respectively. Junior Requisition Agent uin Faor, you will remain behind for disciplinary measures once these matters are concluded. Do not speak without leave again."
The handsome young lad licks his lips nervously, shaking like a fearful mouse, "Anh-S-serte...ap-p-pologies."
"Be silent," a baleful glare causes the clerk to choke up, "Plainly, you have other menial complaints to air out, so continue."
"Thirdly," just going to pretend that interruption didn't happen, "I seem to have acquired a voyeur since our last meeting. I'm adding a new term: The Empire is to lower the scrutiny of its observation of myself. I won't demand you stop altogether, but you won't be hearing anything too sensitive no matter how much you strain your ears ere should you continue. As you have already been informed, I and those like me have our own means to communicate beyond Merrow which you cannot observe, should such prudence be required or convenient. What you're doing is more annoying than productive, and illegal to boot as we are guilty of no wrongdoing. Nor do I have any desire to break Imperial law."
Clearing her throat, the Tuybencge speaks up after the Count glances at her, "He speaks truth. Mostly. I detect some reticence concerning his claims to lawfulness."
"Circumstances permitting, I will respect the rule of law, but I won't abide corruption of its tenets to harass us," I justify myself, "In such a case, Truthseekers may be forced to challenge that arbitrary judgment, both for our own sakes and to respect the spirit of legal justice."
"Your sophistry falls on deaf ears," Count Hiolh glowers, not waiting for the Tuybencge's input, "Pray fervently to your Patron, that any breaches of our sacred concord be impossible to discover."
"As I said, I will respect the rule of law, so long as it isn't abused," I shrug, then frown. My joints feel heavier and heavier by the minute.
Bodes ill, but it's the price paid for a clear-ish mind, "Your response to the amendment, Count Hiolh?"
"You appear paranoid," he says quite convincingly, "There is no such 'voyeur'."
My brow furrows, "Then you should have no cause to deny my request to amend the contract...isn't that the case?"
It's his turn to be irritated, though it's more a vague expectation I get than anything self-evident with his body language or expression, his composure immaculate as ever, "So it is. However, these changes will still require the approval of the Iempern'ioll Cugosth to implement."
"To be expected," I lean back into the armchair, ready to settle in for a long discussion, "Now, for the next point of contention..."
