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gxymlky · 3 years

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Master Bio: Aristhea Veritas

BASIC INFORMATION

Name || Aristhea Suzuran Veritas [ne. Plume]

Nickname || Thea

Character Type || spellcaster (another term for mages who doesn’t practice the typical mage lifestyle), master

Gender || female

Birthdate || November 30, 1999

Age || 21

Height || 155 cm

Weight || 43 kg

Origin || Inure

Inure is Aristhea’s origin. Something that one is accustomed to negativity or anything horrendous happening around her, she is solemn or unwavering about it. People perceived her as heartless because of this, but whether it's a coping mechanism or not, she is fully aware that it is something that she couldn't deviate herself from. Also comes from the fact, she experience painful sensation on her body when or after performing magecraft comes with acceptance that this is what she is. However, just because she is accustomed to anything horrendous happening doesn't mean she isn't capable of showing emotions on joyous moments.

Character Alignment || Chaotic Neutral

Affiliation || Chaldea Security Organization

Elemental Affinity || Hollow (Imaginary Numbers)

Magic Circuit Quality || C+

Magic Circuit Quantity || C

Likes ||

pastel colors

Lolita fashion

early morning walks

Magical girl anime genre

true crime

going to the local library

photography

Dislikes ||

centipedes

snakes (figuratively and literally)

traffic

Magus society

alleyways

closed spaces

confrontation

BACKGROUND ||

The Plumes are of noble blood that had been around since the time the Roman Empire was declined and settled in British Isles, their background is similar to the Fragas except they had affair with the fairies resulting in the descendants having fairy blood, though at the cost of having side effects affecting their well-being depending on how much effort they are willing to use, they also have a long history of sacrificing their offsprings with strong fairy blood as they have a short lifespan and are seen only as battery to fuel the lineage.

The Plumes possessed Fae, a quality of hereditary trait found in their genes, allows to summon fairies as familiars at their will, Imaginary Numbers, Hollow and Fire element are the main source of their magecraft.

Unlike the Fragas, they are nobles and their name soon catches the attention of the Association, fearing for their safety and in fear they would be put under Sealing Designation, the Plumes changed their name from Plume to Veritas and hid in obscurity for a while. They decided to practice magecraft in secret and not to let it affect their lifestyle. While they still live a comfortable lifestyle, they prefer to lay low and live a decent life.

Aristhea was born to Arina Koei and Uriel Plume as the first daughter, she has abnormal magical energy and mediocre magic circuits causing her to be born fragile. As a result, Uriel gave Aristhea to his mother, Isolde where Isolde raised her and taught her how to control her thaumaturgy. She gets occasional visits from her mother and father. So far, her childhood has ups and downs but doesn’t include a beating when she makes a mistake, her only traumatic memory was where she lost control of her body and fell down the stairs leaving in a pool of dark, red almost black blood.

Aristhea was around 5 when Rene, her younger brother was born, around that time, Arina died a few months due to the strain of Rene’s birth. Aristhea took care of Rene followed by their aunt, Cosette. She is homeschooled in her primary days but was allowed to enter Elementary and Secondary school but wore a Mystic Code to prevent her from bleeding as side effects.

Her father Uriel is often away on a business trip but shows that he cares for his children greatly by coming home during holidays and their birthdays.

PERSONALITY

Aristhea is known to have eccentric, complex personality, she can’t make decisions or would take very long time to make them as she is continually fighting what to do if she chose one choice or branching them making more imaginary scenarios and making things complicated. She also has a habit of zoning out or not paying attention to scenarios deeming to others if she was stupid or challenged. She also makes sarcastic comments sometimes at the wrong timing causing her to go into trouble.

Despite this, she is known to be crafty and calculated, at times using her head to think outside the box and use whatever means to get what she wants, she is also good with reading emotions of other people and using it against them, calm and precise, she also has a way of getting back to them in the most creative way possible whether inflicting physical harm or emotionally breaking them, though she also refuses to admit defeat or humiliation when it doesn’t go her way.

Aristhea may be distant, aloof or even downright, intimidating thanks to her scornful and contempt expression, but this was simply the work of her origin, Inure causing her indifference over negative situations or unfortunate things happening around, people cite her as a callous individual, perhaps she herself cite this as this is how she looks onto herself. But just because it’s her origin doesn’t mean she isn’t capable of showing moments of joy. It was simply because she was a selective young woman when it comes to who she would show her sweet, amicable side. She has a big, sisterly love to her younger brother as a promise she kept to her mother in her dying moments.

How she speaks is direct and short when it comes to strangers as she have no interest in a short talk unless it piqued her interest.

She loves reading books but shows little to no interest on growing technology, but still handles around gadgets such as phone and laptop to get on with the trend but overall, she loves the aesthetic of papers, especially old books and their scent. Her favorite book/s overall are Tristan and Iseult especially as it’s the book her grandmother read to her during bedtime and the Tale of Genji as well as classics such as Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott and of course, Erotica novels. Yes, she also read Eroticas even bad ones.

APPEARANCE

Aristhea is a young, attractive woman with fair complexion and dirty white, long hair with bangs cut above her eyes. She wears a simple, white shirt and a skirt with black stockings and some shoes but overall, she wears anything she finds stylish herself. Aristhea owns a lot of frilled clothing 90% of those are from her grandmother back in her youth.

ABILITIES

Her elemental attributes is Hollow or better known as Imaginary Numbers, it is usually associated with children born with Fae blood, and as mentioned before, the stronger the mixed blood where, the better, but comes with a short lifespan. Though, Amiya was a unique case as she hoards souls of tormented children that where sacrificed for the family's personal gain, their hatred is so powerful in fact that whenever Aristhea performs her attack on her opponent, their hatred is channeled through her forcing her to convert her body's entire nervous system initially then her muscular system, adding more magic circuits to eradicate a single target. Similar manner to Illyasviel's NP but more fatal as it causes rupture in her internal organs. She practices witchcraft in her past time but rarely does it as she refused sacrificing animals or even using her blood whenever she wanted too. Similar case to Erice Utsumi, unlike Erice, she manifests magical energy from her palms which requires practice and intense training and uses a Mystic Code in form of a Lance to channel through her magecraft.

Besides magic, she uses a Lance given to her by her aunt as training where she channels her magical energy to enhance it but it’s much weaker due to the Mystic Code’s nature in suppressing its holder to make sure she doesn’t collapse from the aftermath.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS/SERVANTS:

Isolde Veritas: Rene and Aristhea’s grandmother, she is a stern, firm, no-nonsense woman who nurtures her grandchildren. Coming from a toxic, mage background, she understood what was going on and made sure to make up lies in order to not let her grandchildren pick up their ways as she finds there’s no happiness attained to it. However, she is stricter to Aristhea when training only to benefit her granddaughter and made sure she isn’t fragile or vulnerable when she is on her own.

Arina Koei: mother of Aristhea and Rene, she is a loving and kind mother coming from a decaying bloodline, she is completely unaware of her husband’s dark past and unstable behavior, she willingly chose to give birth to Rene and keeping promise to Uriel to love their children as much as she loves him. Her death is one of the factor of Uriel’s paranoia.

Cosette Veritas: Cosette is Isolde’s younger daughter, Rene and Aristhea’s aunt. Like her mother, she is painfully aware of how shady and corrupt mages are and has no interest in finding the Root, only sees magecraft as something of a hobby.

Horacio Lope: a mage, an intern in Chaldea like her. He found her to be quite odd. That’s because of her thaumaturgy allows him to see spirits and they happen to be hostile towards him. Horacio and Aristhea have a brother/sister dynamic that has their own vicissitudes.

Template Credit: Θεός

#done and done #i might do the servants on separate reblogs #aristhea veritas #mastersona #gudasona #gxymlky ocs

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xwarneverchanges · 5 years

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Factions

This is a list of all factions currently in the roleplay. No more custom factions can be added currently,for there are quite a few already.

Minutemen

The Minutemen were a civilian militia founded as a result of the efforts by various small communities to protect themselves against the numerous threats present within the Commonwealth. Settlers armed and trained themselves and pledged to help defend each other. As the organization expanded, acquiring dividends in both soldiers and resources,they first gained recognition after successfully defending Diamond City from a super mutant attack in 2180. Only remnants of the Minutemen and their supporters remain. With the exception of Preston Garvey, one of the few survivors to escape the massacre and thus still loyal to the cause of the organization, the minutemen had effectively ceased to exist as a cohesive group.

Leader: Open

Brotherhood of Steel

The Brotherhood of Steel is a neo-knightly military order that rose from the ashes of the American military on the West Coast in the years following the devastation of 2077. The organization’s tenets include the eradication of mutants,synths, and the veneration of technology. The Brotherhood has never been very keen on sharing their resources with their fellow wastelanders, considering them too ignorant and irresponsible to possess advanced technology,although the eastern chapter is more lenient about this than their Western counterparts.Despite their obsession with technology they will destroy technologies they deem too dangerous or uncontrollable,such as Institute synths. Consider joining the Brotherhood? While they’d give you the rules,there’s a thing you need to know beforehand. If you’re not completely 100% human,you can’t join,unfortunately.

Leader: Arthur Maxson {Open}

Railroad

The Railroad is an underground movement with a primary aim of freeing sentient synths from their creators at the Institute.It is a joinable faction situated in the Commonwealth who assist runaway synths. Their main command centre is located in the Old North Church in Boston, after their previous base was compromised following a raid by the Institute. They maintain a network of safehouses and clandestine contacts reminiscent of their namesake, the 19th century Underground Railroad, which helped slaves escape and reach free areas. To remain covert,members use a special marking system called “Railsigns” to mark cache, safehouse, and dead drop locations, as well as the presence of allies and/or danger.

Leader: Desdemona {Open}

The United Institute

Three companies/groups. All united to create The United Institute. After the great war,Blume and Cyberlife merged with the mysterious Institute to create a bigger,better group. One that has more power at it’s disposal. One that creates more than ever imaginable. The United Institute is known for creating large groups of synthetic humans,referred to as synths and androids. These synths/androids look so human,you wouldn’t even realize that they aren’t. They are created to act as servants,entertainment,personal assistants,anything you could ever need help with…but some also replace the ones you love. People get kidnapped and replaced,which is why they are feared. Thanks to Blume’s tech,the UI can spy on anyone and anything in the Commonwealth in the form of bird and mannequin cams. That’s how they track down the rogue ones,who fled,who became ‘deviants’ as Cyberlife CEO Elijah Kamski would say. The UI also works on creating synthetic animals as they were before the war,as well as all sorts of medicine and food sources.

Leaders: - Father {Open} - Dušan Nemec {Open} - Elijah Kamski {Open}

Vault Dwellers

This small group is made up of all the Vault 111 residents. Awoken 210 years after the Great War,they find themselves in a world unbeknownst to them.Things have changed since they were put on ice.They have little knowledge of how things work now.They are not fully aware of the danger around them. Factions fight amongst each other to have one of them on their side,because prophets have told that they might be the wasteland’s only hope.The only ones able to save what’s left of America.All it’s members come from different backgrounds,from different universes.They have skills that are a rarity in the wasteland. They’ve taken it in their hands to rebuild Sanctuary,and made it their own personal HQ.

Leader: Open

Children of Atom

The Children of Atom believe that each atom contains within it an entire universe, and when an atom is split many universes are created. Therefore, instead of seeing the Great War as destructive, the Church believes it was a creative and unifying holy event.The Children of Atom also see death more as a celebration of life and unification to Atom through “the Glow.” “The Glow” is the earthly embodiment of Atom and the Children of Atom’s direct connection to Atom. The Children of Atom view the ghouls as “Atom’s forsaken” or those who have unfinished business and, for denying the ghouls their unification with Atom himself, Atom touches them with “the Glow” and asks that they spread the word of Atom to those around the world.Those ghouls that refuse to accept the “gift of the Glow” and refuse to spread the word of Atom are doomed to becoming feral ghouls.

Leader: Mother Isolde {Open}

Blasters

A group of misfits made up of anything one can think of - Ghouls,super mutants,robots,synths,monsters,raiders, literally anyone who wants to join,if you meet the standards to become a Blaster. Similar to the Rust Devils they have skill in building and fixing up robots,also customizing,reprogramming and stripping them down for parts.Difference is,they aren’t as savage and kill non-hostile robots for parts.They take pride in their work and will pay a ton of caps for Nuka-World robot parts,and Vim robot parts. They can be seen wearing power armor during battle. X-03/Hellfire Power armor,black in color,with different neon markings based on rank,and the Blasters decal. They’re known for wearing jackets with a fluffy hood and Blaster decals. Afraid power armor won’t fit? A tall or big individual? Don’t worry! The power armor is custom made thanks to blueprints found in the Galactic Zone in Nuka-world.

To become a Blaster you must: - Respect G’s rules,and respect those around you,no matter who or what they are,where they come from. - Have some knowledge on robotics. If you don’t,it’s also okay. But,having knowledge is preferred. - Don’t keep secrets of any sorts. Especially those along the lines of being a spy for some faction. - You better be prepared to help others in need,again,no matter who they are. Unless they’re the Brotherhood,of course. The Brotherhood can help themselves. Same goes for the UI. - Don’t pick fights with others,unless it’s playful. You’re gonna suffer if you’re found hurting/killing others on purpose. - Don’t test G’s patience. He will not hesitate to put a bullet through your skull. - The Atom cats are friends,not enemies or rivals.

Leader: G {Taken}

Atom Cats

The Atom Cats is a minor faction dedicated to the usage of power armor. They seem to be a reference to mid-1950s Greasers, with leather outfits and a hotrod-themed paint job for their power armor. They are often pressured by Gunners and raiders who are trying to steal their suits.It is unknown as to why the faction started or where they acquired their large arsenal of power armor suits. It is known that they have roaming scavengers that visit the garage roughly every other day and sell the Atom Cats the armor they find.They use T-60 power armor,black in color with flames all over.

Leader: Zeke {Open}

Carnies

Not exactly a faction,but might as well be. The Carnies refer to all the staff associated with the traveling wasteland circus.Acts, stall owners,everyone,even the animals. According to the ring master,the circus will be in the Commonwealth for a long time. There are a lot of acts,and it’s tough to join,unless you’re already a member.A real tough clan of people.Backgrounds of all the carnies are unique,and they hate power armor.The animals are not put in cages,instead,all tame,walk along or sit on the train,which they made able to move,and without tracks. The train and all it’s cars ride on tank track.The tent can be seen from the high Boston buildings.The exact location of the circus differs from time,but the current location is high up on the map.In a big field North East of Sanctuary.

To be a Carnie you must: - Be a member of the staff,have an act or have some sort of job. Jobs differ from stall owners to those cleaning up after the animals to the people that put up the tent. - You can be of any species,any gender. As long as you’re not looking for some way to steal or kill,or disrespect. - Of course,you have to listen to the ring master’s rules and orders. - Keep in mind that it’s difficult to join unless you’re already a member. If the ring master sees potential,you have a chance.

Leader/Ring Master: Open

Nutricii Ad Aurora

Scattered remnants of survivors of the bomb drop many, many years ago found themselves... clumped together, raiders, pyschos, Diamond City, hell even the institute. Nutricii Ad Aurora was a group founded by Gilgamesh David Cruise approximately thirty years after the bombs fell in a small cluster of factories that are unrecognizable in the modern day. The goal of this new group of people you may ask? Bringing Society back to where it was.

Gilgamesh had wide dreams of being able to retake America, disfusing the radiation and getting those sprawling metropolitain cities online again, however this would not be achieved within his lifetime instead leaving the task up to generations of crazy brilliant scientists behind him. This led to a series of inovations that where... astonding on the surface a reborn factory, genuinely working defended by clockwork automatons... MEDICINE was being produced there, and being sold as the factions main form of trade to the outside world.

Rules of the Nutricii Ad Aurora:

1. You must bring SOMETHING to the table to join the faction, having skills in some kind of advanced science or otherwise. 2. There is to be no infighting between the Bringers of the Dawn, this is a bastion for progress back to the old ways of life, not a place for petty squabbles. 3. All resources for projects are decided by the grand Vizier who is decided at the annual 'Automata Assault' 4. The leader is to listen to the people, if they aren't the people are within their rights to invoke a call to a council of the oldest 12 members of the faction to determine the worthiness of the ruler. The council has the right to deny your request out right. 5. This is not a place for discrimination, if you are looking for a place to preach hate this is not the place.

Current leader: ???

Project At Eden’s Gate

The Project at Eden's Gate was a pre-war doomsday cult and armed terrorist paramilitary group, led by Joseph Seed and his siblings. After the bombs dropped,only a small amount of the cult made it out alive. Still lead by,now all ghoulified,Joseph and his siblings,as well as the Deputy. While there is no longer need to brainwash people,they still do it to an extent,using the now mutant moon flowers to make Bliss. Bliss used to control old members and new. The Peggies are still highly militaristic with a large arsenal of weaponry. The Deputy might not approve of the Seeds' ways,but they are the only people they still know from before. Nahant chapel is their current base of operations.

Leaders: - Joseph Seed {Open} - John Seed {Open} - Jacob Seed {Open} - Faith Seed {Open} - A mysterious masked person who goes by 'Dep(uty)’ and 'Rook(ie)’ {Open}

Enclave

The Enclave is a nation state built that developed from continuity of government of the pre-War federal government of the United States, frequently styling itself as the United States of America. Prior to the War, the founders of the Enclave operated as an informal secret organization of the same name. They comprised members of the U.S shadow government and military industrial complex. While most of the Enclave were defeated in various locations and various times (Most groups have ceased to exist) a small group still strives,slowly putting an army together,building up their HQ to be as great as those before. Creators of the X-01,X-02 and X-03 variants of power armor. It is unfortunately unknown where the base is located,and those who know and who are not members,are killed or kept prisoner.

Leader (Commonwealth): Open

New California Republic

The New California Republic (NCR) is a federal unicameral parliamentary republic founded in New California, comprised of five contiguous states and additional territories and holdings in pre-War regions in Nevada,Utah, Arizona, Oregon, and parts of Mexico. The Republic dedicates itself to the values of the old world: Democracy, liberty, the rule of law, all in order to make the wasteland a better place. However, its policies resulted in difficulties in recent years.

After the victory at the second Battle of Hoover Dam with the Courier's help,the NCR continued ruling the Mojave. After the courier disappeared,a small group was sent to track her down. They tracked her to the Commonwealth,where they set up camp to act as an HQ. From there,they will observe,and see if they can track her down. It is unknown where the camp is,but rumor says it is out in the badlands in the Nuka World area.

Leader (Commonwealth): Open

Note: The courier is unaware of their presence. She did not lead them to Boston,but they tracked her down to there.

Caesar’s Legion

Caesar's Legion is an imperialistic dictatorship founded in 2247 by Edward Sallow and Joshua Graham, inspired and partially based on the ancient Roman Empire. The Legion is an ultra-reactionary, utilitarian slave army supported by several tributary populations; although legionaries use trappings of Roman culture, these are not imposed on the Legion's civilian subjects. It's legionaries are predominately reconditioned tribals, slave soldiers forming a well-organized, culturally insular fighting force.

After the death of Ceasar,and fleeing to Arizona after the defeat at Hoover Dam,the Legion got themselves a new leader. This leader proposed an idea,and this idea was to expand in territory. Following some traders,a small group of Legionaires found themselves in the Commonwealth. Their mission? Seek potential to join the Legion,and seek potential to build up a base. It is unknown where their camp is.

Leader (Commonwealth): Open

Followers Of The Apocalypse

The Followers of the Apocalypse are asecular-humanist organization originating in New California. Followers focus on providing education and medical services to those in need, as well as furthering research in non-military areas. One-time allies of the New California Republic, they have since parted ways due to disagreements over Republican foreign policy.

As a personal decision after the NCR's victory,a lot of the members of the FotA followed after the courier in hopes of finding greener pastures. While some parted the group to help those in need medical attention along the way,the group settled down in the Commonwealth. There they chose one of the many hospitals in the area as their HQ,and by doing so,they are starting it up again,in hopes of helping many of the people in the area.

Leader (Commonwealth): Open

Brotherhood Outcasts

The Brotherhood Outcasts are a contingent of Brotherhood of Steel soldiers who split from Elder Lyons' group at the Citadel in 2276. The Outcasts attribute their departure to their belief that Elder Lyons has lost sight of the Brotherhood's true mission, and the reason for their presence in originally the Capital wasteland, and now the Commonwealth; the discovery and acquisition of advanced pre-War technology. Their secondary objective is to keep dangerous technologies out of the hands of raiders, tribals, and everyone else without the aptitude necessary to safely utilize them. Their power armor is black and red,the distinction between them and the BOS. Maxson heard of their presence,and orders soldiers to shoot them on sight. Because of that,they retreated to an unknown location in the heart of Boston,where they haven't been found as if yet.

Leader (Commonwealth): Open

Great Khans

A Great Khan often carries all of their possessions with them, if they should decide to have anything besides the bare essentials. Because of this, as well as their aggression, the other factions view them as savages. However, unlike the Jackals, Fiends, Scorpions and Vipers {NV raiders}, the Great Khans are not hostile towards new-comers. If the Great Khans begin to dislike someone, however, they will often show great hostility. The Great Khans subsist mainly on hunting and farming. In the 2270s, the Followers of the Apocalypse taught the Great Khans reading, writing and basic science in hopes that would create medical supplies, but the efforts backfired. Instead, the Khans began to produce chems in the Red Rock drug lab. The canyon is a harsh environment for plants, however, leading to the Great Khans dependence on drugs, which they can create quite easily and can sell to a multitude of factions. The Great Khans' preferred form of warfare is through war parties, where multiple central figures lead their own individual units into individual battles, and adapt on the fly, rather than being ordered by a main unit.

To expand territory,and make more caps,Papa Khan sent a few groups after different caravans that were heading in different directions,as well as some essentials,and enough supply to sell for a few weeks. At some point,one of the groups got attacked by a raider group that thought they were also trying to attack the caravan. They fled,somehow keeping most of their supply,and ended up in the Commonwealth. They set up camp in one of the many skyscrapers in Boston,between Diamond City and Goodneighbor. By doing this,they sell to both towns. They make their own chems,and will eventually head back to the Mojave. But that won't be for a long time.

Leader (Commonwealth): Open

Guardians of Boston Zoo/The BZ Guardians

Similar to the Carnies,this group isn’t really a faction,but they might as well be. This refers to all the staff of the Boston Zoo. Not many of the original staff are left,as most died after the bombs dropped. Now it’s just a few ghouls keeping all the animals of the zoo who survived safe and fed. As mutated as the animals are,they’re still the same lovable creatures they were before. Or well,the descendents of the originals. The staff protect the zoo,and don’t exactly let anyone in. Lately though,people seem to have this tendency to drop unwanted animals off at the zoo,espeically dogs,cats and cattle. Luckily,the Guardians do their best to build up big enough enclosures,as the zoo is surrounded by miles of open plains,and to keep them healthy and fed just like the rest.

To be a BZ Guardian: - Unless you’re one of the original staff,you might have some difficulty getting in - You need knowledge on animals,hunting,aiding animals,grooming animals,training animals (Dogs especially),or building. Each skill is much needed. - If you are persistent,you can be trained and join. - Everyone respects each other and the animals. - If you are caught killing or injuring animals or staff,you will get thrown to the deathclaws. - If available,you will get an old zoo uniform. - Everyone is equal. There are no higher ranks. Only newbies and the veterans. No leader,and that works out well.

Leader: There is no leader,everyone is equal

Forged

The Forged are similar to raiders, set apart only by their small numbers and fanatical obsession with the destructive power of fire.According to various terminals found within Saugus Ironworks, their leader came from outside the Commonwealth looking for recruits to form a new gang. Initially, the process seemed to have been slow, with many recruits failing the gruesome initiation rituals. Their number of recruits increased though after the Forged killed many of the notorious Gunners from the nearby Hub City Auto Wreckers during battle.New recruits must pass several trials to prove their worth before becoming one of the Forged.Once initiates pass these trials, they must change their name to a “tougher” nickname, typically one that invokes fire and machinery.

Leader: Slag {Open}

Gunners

The Gunners are a paramilitary mercenary organization and are the largest single unaligned faction in the Commonwealth, acting independently of any government or settlement. They are well-disciplined,highly-equipped soldiers for hire with their own customs and signage, who control numerous strongholds both in and around the Boston area.The origins of the Gunners and their recruitment techniques are largely unknown although it is known they employ from raiders, who upon joining, may have difficulty adjusting to the strict environment and regimentation of being a Gunner.Based on patterns of speech and terminal entries, the Gunners place great emphasis on loyalty and do not tolerate insubordination.

Leaders:-Captain Wes {Open} -Baker {Open} -Tessa {Open} -Clint {Open} -Cypress {Open}

Rust Devils

The Rust Devils are a raider gang that appeared in the Commonwealth near the arrival of The Mechanist, and set up their main outpost at the Fort Hagen satellite array. They are differentiated from typical raider gangs by their extensive use of robots. The Rust Devils scavenge throughout the Commonwealth for functional robots and parts, which they reprogram and heavily customize; they are used for raids or base defence. Any robots they cannot capture or reprogram are stripped down for either parts to maintain their existing robot cohort, or to build armor for themselves. The Rust Devils are openly hostile to everyone,including other raider gangs.

Leader: Ivey {Open}

Operators

The Operators can be easily classified as an organized crime group or can also be referred to as a gang, or crime syndicate, with their main motivation being profit. They appear less savage and bloodthirsty than The Disciples and Pack, with more functional outfits compared to the outlandish garb of their counterparts, resembling more of a paramilitary organization. Additionally, they have a more approachable and reasonable demeanor compared the other factions. Unfortunately for them, they became trapped in Nuka-World, along with the other two Nuka-World raider gangs. They are unable to expand their operations due to the lack of action by Overboss Colter, who decided to not follow through with Porter Gage’s original plan. However they are an effectively dangerous group,who should not to be underestimated.

Leaders: Mags and William {Both are open}

The Pack

The hierarchy of the Pack is based on wolf packs, with their leader being referred to as the “Alpha,” they follow the rule of 'survival of the fittest’. As with certain other animals,they use their colorful and outlandish looks to boast.It is common for Pack members to challenge the reigning Alpha to win the title, which ends with the winner remaining as the dominant of the pack, this usually means that the Alpha is the most violent member, but not the most capable leader. As Pack law forbids killing other members, the losers are generally shamed and then exiled. The members are identifiable by their colorful outfits and bizarre face paints. Most members wear masks depicting an animal.

Leader: Mason {Open}

Disciples

In criminology terms, the Disciples most common factor is the act called 'thrill killing’, meaning that they are bloodthirsty and sadistic by nature. The Disciples are more akin to regular wasteland raiders than the Operators and the Pack. They follow the natural way of the world: Kill or be killed, survival of the fittest. The only rule they follow is “Don’t get caught.”, meaning the Disciples are pretty much free to do as they please, including killing members of the other raider gangs, as long as they don’t get caught.

Leader: Nisha {Open}

Killjoys

An infamous raider gang situated in the small flooded town of Hyde park,known for wearing modified animal costume/mascot heads,as well as their impressive skills in explosives. Lead by the notorious Gerard,who believes that explosives is the only way the Killjoys can make some noise. The gang began after a young Gerard and some friends came across an old holotape that contained a video from long before the Great war. It was a music video,it had a catchy,but somewhat violent tune. From there,it inspired him to create this gang. They built Hyde park up as an HQ,where they ambush passerbys and steal anything useful to them. It takes a lot to be a Killjoy,and if you don’t have the skill or spunk,you’ll be thrown to the mirelurks. Their animal costume/mascot heads are modified to act as gasmasks,contain flashlights to act as headlamps,even to have night vision. Be careful when you come across this gang. It is advised to give up what you have when they have you cornered,and do what they ask. Don’t test their patience.

Leader: Gerard {Open}

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pyxel-spree · 7 years

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11 | night to remember

"God, I'm so nervous." Seonid murmured, re-smoothing her hair for the third time. "What if I screw this up?"

"Relax. And you won't." Tessa told her, painting Rich Ruby on her lips. Her eyes had been lined until they were twice their normal size. With Tessa, more makeup was always a bad thing. She was even wearing a blazer, instead of that awful army jacket. And nice pants.

No, Tessa was not relaxed, no matter what she told Seonid. "I have no idea what to say, Tessa. I'm screwed."

"You do know what to say. Introduce yourself. Make small talk. Make them like you. You're good at that."

"Small talk isn't going to get us the Rublex back." Seonid examined herself in the mirror. The silver-grey pantsuit was nice enough for day-to-day business, but was it too casual for the fundraiser? The clothes the servants had sent up from Centaurii Center were nice enough, but her whole wardrobe was still in the Rublex, and she had left her favorite lemon yellow gown on the floor of the Grand Old Clam.

"You'd be surprised at what small talk can accomplish." Tessa said, with a funny note in her voice which made Seonid think she wasn't talking about the Rublex. She had been saying strange things lately. But after all they had went through, who could blame her?

The past two days had been a whirlwind for Seonid. Overnight, she had gone from a virtual unknown to a hot-button topic. She had done interview after interview, only to have her words mangled by the tabloids or co-opted in the major papers. Everyone had an opinion, but nobody came right out and supported her. For some, the story was a symbol of the pathetic decline of the Centauriian Empire; for others, a call to arms. Seonid just wished someone would say something constructive, instead of parroting the same statements over and over.

The Centauriians at the embassy were if possible, less supportive. Oh, she got congratulated on her escape, but after she had been given her new apartment, two blocks from Centaurii Center, the promises of aid had slowed to a trickle, and then dried up completely. She had tried using her newfound authority as High Lady to call a committee-the Committee for Rublex Affairs-but no one had come. The High Lord had promised his support, but he and most others had been focussed on the arrival of the new Director of Olympia a day before, and then the arrival of Princess Nuala a day before that. This last had thrown the Center into a tizzy-after all, the princess was virtually a hermit and had made no public appearance since she was born.

"But, Tessa, the crown princess is going to be here, and Princess Nuala too! I've never met princesses before-are they nice, do you think?"

"It's not for me to say," said Tessa primly. "They are my superiors."

"But you have to have some opinion," Seonid pressed. "You worked in Lyria for a while; you have to know at least a little bit about them."

Tessa looked at the ceiling, as if for help. "Princess Karine is a very accomplished young woman. She's applying for university about now, I believe. She is by all accounts well-mannered and well-versed in politics."

"And engaged to the High Lord Cielare."

Tessa's eyes darkened. "And that."

"You don't like her." Seonid observed.

"What? No! I never said that." Tessa retorted. "Everyone says her society is lovely. I've never had the luxury of meeting her, however."

"If you've never met her, why don't you like her?" Seonid pressed.

"I never said I didn't like her. Anyway, if I had an opinion-on either princess-which I don't, mind you, it would not be my place to say so."

Seonid smiled. "And Princess Nuala? What is she like?"

Tessa frowned. "Princess Nuala is...very sweet. She is quite the artist. But she is rather sad. She was crippled from birth, they say, which is why she doesn't like to have public appearances. Of course, I'm not certain. It could be just a rumor."

"Hmm. It probably is." Seonid pinned up a section of her hair, examined it, took the pin out, then pinned it back up again. "Thank you again. For saving me. I don't know how I can repay you." Without her-even with her, I dissolved. I was useless. I can't take care of myself. I'm afraid, for the first time in my life. Not of someone in particular, not Sever or Castella or that horrible man Regen, but of myself. I'm afraid I made the wrong choice when they offered me this job. I have to prove to myself-and them, out there- that Seonid Min isn't just a precious little charity case prodigy they took in for some "diversity points." I have to have a little greatness in me, somewhere. Otherwise, this is all a fraud.

Tessa winced. "You don't need to keep doing that. It's my job."

"Well, job well done, eh?" She proffered her hand, and Tessa took it reluctantly. "Come on, escort me down like a real High Lady. We haven't got all night."

••

"You tell me." Llenwi pressed. "Olives or pep-per-roni?" He sounded out the unfamiliar word.

Vi laughed her contagious easy laugh. He loved that laugh. It made everything seem like an inside joke. "I don't know, pretty boy. You pick."

They had become addicted to an Earthen food, "pizza." They had pizza in the Grand Centaurii City, sure, but only in the Earthen quarter. The island chain was pizza-mad. In Llenwi's neighborhood alone there were twelve or thirteen different pizza places. And they were going to try them all.

It was the sort of idea that Llenwi would have entertained by himself but would have never actually gone through with. Now that he had Vi, things were different. He found himself doing things that were impulsive and crazy and fun-like trying all the different pizzas.

Earth helped with that. The island chain-the most densely populated area on Earth-was a string of artificial islands on the Atlantic Ocean, each with a city on them, connected by bridges. The chain began with the American city of New York, and then five others on the false islands-New Rastabaria, Reach City, Bloodcrest, Ryuna, and Taliesyn-all intergovernmental territory. The community was diverse, and if a bit scary to navigate, was interesting-rather like his relationship with Vi.

Which brought him to the real question-what did she think of him? Were they going out? Their relationship had blossomed so organically that neither of them had actually referred to the other as "my girlfriend" or "my boyfriend." They'd held hands two or three times and kissed maybe twice, but that was it. Llenwi wondered occasionally if she was using his company to fend off unwanted advances from those nebulous "asshole guys" she had told him about on the elevator ride.

"Pep-per-roni." Llenwi decided, tapping the word into the search engine on his phone. "It's a kind of spicy sausage."

"Then what are you waiting for? I want the meat!" Vi declared, tossing back her red curls.

The door to the living room banged open and Oceania stood there, red in the face and glaring. "Hey, lovebirds, play time's over. Isolde says we have to go to this fundraiser tonight, so you should put on some clothes. Maybe that suit that you got the mustard all over that one time." She directed this at Llenwi, smirking. He could feel himself blushing.

Vi stared. "You got mustard all over a suit? How does that even work?"

"It was actually just on the sleeves." he mumbled. "She exaggerated."

"Probably improved the color, am I right?" She laughed.

Despite himself, Llenwi smiled. "It was pinstripe, actually, so...yeah."

"Smart boy." She swung her legs over, pulling herself into his lap, then pressed her crimson lips to his. It was a quick touch, hardly a kiss, but by the time she was done, he was pretty sure his lips were stained with her lipstick. He raised a hand to wipe it off, but before he could say something amazingly witty and clever and thoughtful, Vielene had risen, grabbed her coat, and was calling from halfway out the door. "See you at the party, Llenwi Greanleefe!"

Oceania rolled her eyes.

••

Eliza tsked her tongue irritably. "So the High Lord, in all his infinite wisdom, has set up this fundraiser to impress would-be supporters of his proposal to get the Rublex back. Of course, this cuts into the Director's working plan for us. But, of course, we should just do whatever he wants, because that's how things work around here..." Her voice trailed off dangerously.

Kalyani restrained herself from rolling her eyes. She had never liked Elizabeth Xiao, not even when she and Ramon had that unfortunate liaison. She wanted Ramon to have something stable, sure, but Eliza was little more than a bureaucrat, clever, but particularly over-officious, passive-aggressive...God only knew what he had seen in her.

"The High Lord's invitation claims the party is semi-formal, so I expect you all to dress appropriately." Her eyes swept the room. "Do not let me down. Your careers could depend on this."

Next to her, Ramon gave the ghost of a smile. Our careers don't depend on a damn thing, least of all our clothes. We've secured ourselves for life. But then her eyes flickered to Danica, who was sitting bolt upright, eyes peeled. Although, with this new director, hers very well might.

The more Kalyani heard about the man, the more she disliked him. Authoritarian, a workaholic, a bureaucrat, paranoid...That was odd in itself; Kalyani had always thrived under authority, but time had taken its toll, she supposed. She was getting old-at forty, most combat agents talked about retiring. Tacticians and strategic negotiators like Ramon and Eliza could stay on forever, but combatants had a shelf life. And here she was, one of the most highly decorated combat agents, a little past her prime, certainly, but working for a boy thirty years younger than herself was a bit too much to bear. I have sacrificed too much for this, to be given assignments more suitable for local police and to have to answer to teenagers.

But where would she go? She could move in with her parents, she supposed, but the thinly-veiled hints that she was a disappointment, a failure, would be too much to bear. They'd always had an image of her in the professional sector-they misliked the idea of private security, which was what she'd told them she did-it was strictly forbidden to reveal her real job. Or she could actually get a job in private security...but in her experience it was a shiftless position, filled with people of questionable morality. And Kalyani, for all her faults, wanted to follow the law. No, it was better to stay. There was nowhere else to go.

I used to make fun of those girls who would do anything for a boy, but that was before I became one! This was his dream, never mine. Lane had been the one who'd convinced her to drop out of her prestigious college in favor of taking more advanced tactical training programs, taught her how to shoot an M-16 assault rifle...but he was gone now, and without him, her interest in Olympia had plummeted. Even training Danica, an opportunity she would have enjoyed thoroughly two years ago, didn't seem nearly as exciting.

Ramon turned to her for support. "Can you believe we have to go to this? Brings back memories..." he paused dramatically, eyes sparkling. "of Shanghai."

Despite herself, she laughed. "We don't speak of Shanghai." This had been one of their least favorite assignments, trapped with a trigger-happy commander and backstabbing younger agents eager for promotions. It had been one of those situations so horrifically bad one had to turn to humor to convey it.

"I don't know. Large city, sketchy rich people...almost the same, no?"

"I think they put us up in a nicer place, though." She gestured at the green and brown shag carpeted stairs.

He grinned. "And our hosts were definitely better." Already, the screeches of Isolde and Oceania could be heard from downstairs.

••

The dress code for the High Lord's party is semi-formal, but Isolde apparently thinks that means "break out the super-fancy clothes we have only worn to weddings, the Empress's coronation, and other such momentous occasions. " I couldn't disagree more. It's doubly bad, because I don't actually own any clothes that are fit for public viewing anymore, which would give me some ammunition with which to resist. My wardrobe consists of ugly pajamas, a bathrobe, slippers, and Candie's Je M'appelle Club uniform. Charming, I know. Allegedly, Isolde will take me shopping, but this has yet to be proven. Also, I barely brush my hair anymore and my zits have come back with a vengeance.

Never fear, however, as Isolde has a solution! In a trunk in the attic she has retrieved six or seven of what she calls Greanleefe Family Gowns. The GFGs have been passed down in my family for several generations. By which I mean the last alterations were made in the seventeenth century. I believe I wore one when I was seven to my aunt Srianna's wedding and another when Isolde married my father. They come with these uncomfortable flat shoes that close with buckles and woolen tights without elastic. Joy oh joy. The monstrosity Isolde has selected for me tonight is the most ornate of the bunch, burgundy silk with a gold underskirt, itchy lace on the sleeves and neck, and large false gemstone buttons down the front. The real gemstone buttons fell off, and their replacements are even larger, probably to make up for their overt fake-ness. All this comes with a weird lace cap for my head.

"I'm not wearing this." I tell her. "You're going to have to make me."

"Fine, Oceania, if that's the way you want to play it." she snaps, and with surprising force pulls the gown over my head, forces the buttons into place, then uses the ancient frayed laces to tighten it over my already tightly squeezed chest. By the time she is done, she is red-faced and swearing. I would swear back but I can barely breathe. The gown was clearly made for someone a head shorter than me and two sizes smaller. And I'm skinny enough as it is.

Isolde emerges later, radiant as usual in peach satin, but Llenwi looks ridiculous squeezed into a too-small blue suit. At least he has the sense not to wear the one with the mustard stains. The Olympian agents look basically the same as always. The women are wearing a bit more makeup and the men shirts with collars, but that's it. The tiny woman with the black hair and blue eyes is the only one in a dress, an airy confection of blue lace. She scoffs at her compatriots and then turns distasteful eyes to my brother and me.

"What are you looking at?" I snap. The woman's cheeks color and she turns around sharply, Isolde snaps at me to shut up, and I tell her exactly what I think. It continues in this vein, but at a higher volume, until we reach the Lotus Center.

••

"Um...s-sir?" His secretary's voice was tinged with fear. "Are you sure we can afford this?"

"What?" said the High Lord impatiently. He was drinking wine again, a Penfolds Grand Hermitage 2051, nothing fancy. Earthen wine was richer, a little less pungent. He preferred it.

"The Lotus Center, sir."

"Of course," snapped the High Lord, suddenly irritated. The Lotus Center was a pinnacle of modern architecture, a round, completely glass-paned structure shaped like a lotus. It had been designed by renowned architect Michael Yi, and was, by all accounts, one of the most expensive venues in the world. And the High Lord was the richest man in the world hosting one of the most important events in the world. Nothing else would do.

"The fees alone could be over a trillion universal units."

He scoffed. "What? I make at least thirty octillion a year. We can afford it."

"Sir, we can't afford anything. You'll have to pay for this out of your own pocket." his secretary persisted.

"I know. That's why I did it." The Centauriian royal treasury was not to be expended on such ventures, but his own money was his to spend as he pleased. And potential supporters-well, he was not ignorant of his unpopularity among certain groups. He would have to buy as much support as he could if he was to win back the Rublex. And his fiancee was here on top of it all. And someone else. But he wasn't trying to impress her, not after that little fiasco in his office. No, this was all for Seonid's platform, and no one could tell him any different.

Ignoring the protestations of his secretary, he demanded, "Re-check the catering arrangement, will you?" The man scurried out, leaving him alone. Exultant, he walked across the floor of the Lotus Center, admiring the way the sunlight reflected off the crystal glassware on the tables. Oh, this will be a night to remember.

••

Princess Karine was a pretty girl, tall and lithe, with flowing golden hair and sharp blue eyes. A childhood spent competitively swimming had left her muscular and tanned, and she oozed confidence as she beckoned the Duchess-no, the High Lady Seonid-to Nuala's table, grinning like a cat that had caught a tasty morsel. "Sister. Here she is, the lady of the hour. High Lady Min, this is my sister, Fionnuala."

Nuala favored them both with a warm smile, noting the omission of her title. "Why, thank you, sister. And how are you, High Lady? Is the city to your liking?"

Seonid inclined her head. She was a small girl, but stocky, with an air of innocence in her wide brown eyes. It was hard to believe that this was the girl who had captivated last year's Kornadian Convention and brokered an unprecedented trade deal, but Nuala knew better than anyone never to underestimate someone just because of their appearance. "It's lovely, Princesses. Thank you. Of course-" she grimaced, "it's been rather difficult to get anyone to talk with me about the matter at hand."

"You must mean the situation in the Rublex, I suppose," Karine broke in, "but we know all about that. I am sure my husband is doing all he can to remedy that. We mustn't look for easy solutions."

"Your...husband?" Seonid asked, seemingly confused. "You will forgive my ignorance, Princess, but I did not know you were married."

Karine gave a forced little laugh, one Nuala recognized as the one she gave when she was upset. "Oh, no, my dear High Lady! Engaged to be married to the High Lord Cielare."

"But not for some time, to my understanding." Seonid said. "I haven't heard anything about a wedding-certainly not in the present climate."

"It's not all in what you hear, my dear." Karine said condescendingly. "Speaking of which, what did happen in the Rublex? I understand it was very bloody."

"I-I'm not quite sure what you mean." Seonid said, clearly confused.

"Well, come now. You were the only one who survived. Surely, there must be some story."

"Ah-" Seonid broke off, flustered. Nuala saw her opportunity.

"Sister, I am sure all the details of that little incident are in the report she made to your fiancee." she said pleasantly. "I am sure the good lady wants to speak of something else, having spoken of little else to those awful reporters. Sir!" she called to the waiter. "Get a drink for the High Lady."

"Oh I don't-"

"My pleasure." said Nuala quickly. "I insist."

"Well then," said Seonid, relaxing. "how can I refuse?"

Karine, angered at being upstaged, added. "You must come to visit us, High Lady. It's been dreadfully dull at Centaurii Center."

In between all the parties and shopping and boyfriends, I suppose? Nuala thought sardonically, but she composed herself. "Yes, you must. We would love it."

Seonid's drink arrived, a funny amber concoction with a salted rim. "Looks wonderful. Thank you, Princess."

"Oh, there's my husband." said Karine, bored. "Husband-" and she went off to go babble at him, leaving Seonid alone with Nuala.

"Princess Fionnuala, you are most kind." Seonid was saying, "but I don't understand why you want to talk to me."

"Oh, it's just Nuala to my friends, dear." Nuala told her, excitement rising in her. See? I am not just a silly cripple, sister. "And I think you can help me..."

••

She was standing off in the corner, arms folded, dressed in black. Even among the unsmiling staff, she stood out. "Ms. Blackwood."

"My lord." She gave him that odd little half-smile he found so charming. "Is there anything you need me to do tonight?"

He inhaled, the scent of her, cloves and honey, washing over his person. He felt awake, alive. "No, nothing. Just-" He let the words hang in the air for a moment. "What do you think of the venue?"

"They seem to be having a pleasant time." she said, indicating the guests.

"No. You. What do you think?"

She lowered her eyes. "It hardly matters."

"Really. It does."

"Well, it's an excellent room for security-"

He cut her off. "No. The mood. The ambience. What do you think?"

"I'm hardly an expert. But if you want honesty..." A poison smile danced across her face. "I don't like it. It's too open, the music is terrible, and I don't think the architecture is very interesting."

He sucked in a breath. "Really?"

Ms. Blackwood laughed. "No. It's wonderful. But you shouldn't use me to fish for complements. Ask your guests."

"Ah, but you are vastly preferable to my guests."

"But not to your wife." The mood between them fused, brittle, tense. "Ask her. She's who this is all for, I would assume?"

"Of course," the High Lord lied. "And Seonid, as well."

The smile slipped off her face, turning her into the steel-eyed guard again. "What an excellent idea, sir. So generous." There was no trace of sarcasm, only honesty. "You have others to attend to, tonight. You should go to them."

"It is early now."

"It will soon be late. Good luck, sir."

Having no repartee, the High Lord bowed, and headed toward a clump of ambassadors. But her eyes remained, liquid, luminous, watching.

••

Kalyani stirred her drink solemnly, staring at the bottom as if it would reveal some great secret. She was on her third, never a good sign. Ramon hadn't started. He was working up the courage to, well...

"Do you want to dance?" He didn't want to ask her yet. He hadn't worked up the right way to do it, and she had a funny look on her face and she probably didn't want to anyway. "I mean, it's fine if you don't, and I don't mind anyway, I just thought...for old times' sake?"

You are so articulate, Ramon.

She was staring at him as if she had never quite seen him before, but she surprised him with a strangely generous "Yes."

This was not their first time. It was surprising how many parties drug dealers and human traffickers threw, and Ramon and Kalyani had infiltrated a good portion of them. And though he would never admit it out loud, those had been some of his favorite memories.

They joined the other couples, swaying gently to the eerie tones of the classical Centauriian orchestra. Ramon was uncomfortably aware of the closeness of her, her pine-needle fresh scent, rope of heavy thick hair.

"I forgot how good at this you are." she muttered. "You don't step on my toes."

"That's because I'm short."

"The world needs more short people, then." she told him. "Security's pretty good, but if I was a sniper...well, let's just say it would be like shooting ducks in a barrel."

"Have you actually shot ducks in a barrel?"

"No," she told him flatly, then in a self-important voice he gathered was supposed to be an impression of him, "It's a figure of speech, Ramon."

"That is terrible. I could impersonate myself better than that."

"I thought it was pretty good," she demurred. The jarring vibration of a cellphone startled them both.

"My God, we are surrounded by the elite." Ramon said in a tone of mock-horror. "You can't use your phone-the Greanleefes are watching."

"Oh shut up, you." she told him flatly, leading him deftly to the edge of the floor and whipping out her phone. Her eyes widened as she read the message, and he could see the effort she made to keep her lips from trembling as she returned the device to her pocket.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Oh, Ramon-" she gripped his arms tightly, as if to steady herself, then met his eyes. "It's Lane. He's broken out of prison."

••

Tessa listened with half an ear as Seonid chattered about the people she'd met. "-and I think I'm forming real connections, can you believe that?"

"That's wonderful." Tessa told her, still reeling from the High Lord's closeness, his eyes on hers. They were outside the Lotus, waiting on their car, and she was still trying to regain her composure.

"Are you even listening? And I met this girl, Candie, who's going to let me join her club-it's an effort to help animals, and-oh, there she is! Candie!" Seonid waved frantically at a chubby, freckled redhead, holding someone's hand. "Come here."

The girl squealed, pulling the someone into the light reflected by the dome, revealing his face. Tessa's heart accelerated, and she put out a hand to steady herself. That blonde hair, that smile...no, it couldn't be. It couldn't be. She barely heard Seonid say, "And this is Candie's boyfriend, Adrian. Adrian, this is my guard, Tessa."

His eyes, ice-blue, met hers, and the temperature dropped. She could feel tears pricking at the corners of her lids, feel her whole body shaking. He's found me...he's found me.

"Well, Tessa, aren't you going to shake his hand?" Seonid said, from a million miles away. His eyes were teasing, full of cruelty, as if to say so you thought you could get away?

Forcing a smile to her lips, Tessa clasped his hand, and shook it.

#ogak #my writing

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fate-ad2021 · 7 years

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13(b). “Identities, Motives, and Meetings” (part 2 of 2)

Session 13, Feb 19, 2017

Word count: 5,897

In-Game Date: Saturday, June 12, 2021 / Sunday, June 13, 2021

In which names are dropped and Val has an ill-advised but surprisingly pleasant meeting.

VI. Identities Revealed

In the stunned silence that follows, Lancer’s face contorts with tightly controlled wrath. “I would like to kill him,” she declares.

Beside her, Siobhan bites her lips and says nothing.

Jim shakes his head and is a little surprised to find Assassin making the same gesture. “No, look: remember that we told you about the warehouse foreman? What Archer is describing sounds like the same sort of geis trigger that made the foreman set the fire. And in our conversation with Stella at dinner last night, she displayed the same kind of information blocking that the foreman did.”

“Archer attacked you because Stella used a Command Seal on him,” Assassin chimes in. “And there is a good chance that she was forced to by the geis that the mastermind put on her. If she is being mind-controlled, and in turn controlling Archer, then neither of them is truly at fault here.”

Lancer still looks unhappy, but does not contest any of their points.

“I got the geis off McFarrell,” Val muses, “so if given the chance, I could probably get it off of Stella as well.”

Archer looks between the people he can see, hope creeping back onto his face. “I had thought of the geis, and I have been doing my best to hold off on passing information to her, in contrast to how we normally operate.”

Val looks at him, startled. “Wait, you can talk about the geis now! Can you speak without influence from it, now that you aren’t in constant contact with her?”

“I know not,” Archer replies, then tests the theory: “Grigori Vasilyevich is the man who placed a geis on my Master Stella.” He looks amazed at himself, then grins triumphantly, the happiest expression they have seen on him so far.

“Tell us about Vasilyevich,” Jim presses. “How did Stella get involved with him?”

Archer shakes his head. “I don’t know much about the man himself, but I can tell you what I know of their connection. Do you remember when we first met you, when Stella called herself, uh… very gay?”

Val laughs. “Yeah, I remember.”

Archer nods. “Well, she was telling the truth. Years ago, she had a lady love back in Egypt, where she went for university. By the time she was finished with school, her beloved’s family had made other arrangements for her – arrangements which did not include Stella. But Stella’s family had been killed in the interim, so she had nowhere to go. I know not how, but she met Grigori somewhere along the way, and he pointed her to an organization called the Atlas Association. She tells me that he got her connections there, in exchange for the promise of a favor later. I suspect that he planted the geis on her at that time, but he only activated it now, years later.”

“Sheesh,” Val whistles. “That’s some pretty strong magic.”

From behind Archer, Caster inquires, “Can you confirm that Vasilyevich is a Master in the War?”

Archer has given up on trying to see the other people in the room, so he just nods firmly. “Yes. Grigori Vasilyevich is the Master of Servant Saber.”

Assassin sighs and tilts her head back, studying the ceiling. “Which means that our mystery Knight is probably Rider…”

“What about the creepy child you were asking us to fight?” Archer asks.

“That was Berserker,” Jim and Val both tell him. Archer’s eyes widen in surprise, and get even wider when Jim reveals, “Oh, and he was Mordred.”

“That was—” Archer gasps. “And you—” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “I was impressed with your display at the Colosseum, and that was only with half of your group. Assuming you all fought him together, I should not be surprised that you won.”

Archer casts his gaze down to his injured but healing leg and seems to be weighing his options. Then he looks back up at the group. “I think it is time that I properly introduce myself. My name is Sir Tristan of Cornwall.”

Recognition dawns on Caster and Assassin both. They had suspected that he was a knight of the Round Table, but neither of them had realized who until he spoke: Tristan was long gone by the time much of the trouble came around Camelot.

Val asks which version of the legend is the true one, since he has heard many.

Archer – Tristan – explains that he was a knight of the Round who was once in love with a woman named Isolde, who was most unfortunately betrothed to Tristan’s uncle. Nevertheless, he and Isolde opted to have an affair (“as one does,” he says with a self-effacing smile). Upon discovering it (“as one does,” Jim chimes in), Tristan’s uncle was furious and sent him away. Tristan later married another woman – coincidentally also by the name of Isolde – who eventually learned of his first love.

“So,” Archer concluded, skipping over all the other details of the story, “my wife became jealous and poisoned me. The end.”

If anyone notices how deliberate Archer’s flippant tone sounds, no one says anything. Instead, Val pipes up, “It sounds like you need some tips on handling the ladies. I can help!”

Assassin and Caster both groan their disapproval, but Jim makes a sharp silencing motion. “Everybody, shut up!” he snaps. “We need to focus and figure out how to get Stella back.” He turns to Archer. “She’s still in the Vatican, right?”

Archer hesitates, frowning. “I assume that she went back in after Commanding me to find you. At the moment, I am having… difficulty, sensing her.”

Jim turns to the rest of them. “We could try a frontline attack. Sneak in, grab Stella, sneak out. Our Servants can’t go with us, but the three of us Masters are nothing to sneeze at.”

“Or,” Val suggests. “I could do what I did with McFarrell: call Orsino up, ask him to meet and bring Stella. He’ll listen.”

“Both of those are terrible ideas!” Assassin exclaims, and then everyone is talking at once, arguing over the best course of action, their captive forgotten for the moment.

Finally, Archer clears his throat. When the group has quieted down, he says, “It may surprise you all to hear it, but I think that Valentin might actually have the right idea. Orsino seems like a reasonable person, for a priest and a Master; if Valentin truly has Stella’s best interests at heart, then he should be willing to at least agree to meeting to discuss her wellbeing. If you can find a way to contact him, then I say do it: call him, say that you are concerned about Stella, ask if she is alright.”

The rest of the group is still hesitant, but Val nods, glad to be vindicated. “I’ll work on arranging the meeting. Not for tonight, though; I’ll ask him about tomorrow.”

“Why put it off?” Lancer asks.

Val looks appalled. “I don’t want a meeting with a creepy priest in the middle of the night! That’s how horror movies happen! Besides,” he goes on, “We’re crossing enough genre boundaries as it is.”

Jim and Siobhan shake their heads, exasperated. “We need to find a neutral non-church ground to meet,” Jim says. Val promises to think about it while they continue talking to Archer.

“Archer,” Caster addresses their captive, “Do you know if Vasilyevich has any other pawns in this War, besides Stella? We know that he arranged a shipment to the Vatican, and we had suspected that whoever received that was allied with Vasilyevich. It is looking likely that the person in question was Orsino.”

Archer shakes his head. “If Grigori has other pawns in the War, Stella and I do not know of them. By my reckoning of the man, Orsino knew that Stella was a Master because of the Command Seal, but he did not seem to have knowledge of her identity or her connection to Vasilyevich.”

He pauses suddenly, apparently struck by a thought. “There was something else that you wanted to know at dinner that I could not say due to Stella’s binding: the identity of Saber. He is Sir Gawain.”

The group breathes a sigh of relief. They are all pleased to learn that one of their theories was correct. Val voices this, as well as a question about whether or not Lancelot is on the board. Archer replies that he does not think so, but there is always the chance that he was summoned as Rider.

At this point, Jim casts a sideways glance toward Lancer. “Hey, can we talk for a minute? You too, pretty boy.” He motions to Val.

The three of them step out into the hallway. Once there, Jim addresses Lancer. “Okay, I don’t mean to be intrusive, but everyone else seems to be from a very particular set of legends and I’m just wondering how you fit in.”

“Oh!” Val exclaims. “Didn’t I tell you? I found out!” Lancer looks skeptical, but motions for Val to go on. Val does not need the encouragement: “Lancer is Scathach! Right?”

Lancer heaves a sigh and nods in affirmation. “Yes, I am she.”

Jim stares at them both blankly.

Val explains, “She was a sorceress, some legends say a vampire or something, who trained a bunch of Irish warriors, including Cu Chulainn.”

“Keeper of the Land of Shadows and all that?” Lancer asks, trying to ring a bell.

Jim shakes his head. “Okay. I’m not really up on legends, but I believe you. My question still stands, though: where do you fit into all this? You’re not Arthurian.”

Assassin steps into the hallway to join the conversation, careful to close the door behind her. “Maybe the Grail thought we needed a babysitter.”

Lancer laughs at this. “If so, then I was a poor choice for the job. But I think my presence is not as odd as you might think. I am connected to Siobhan herself, who is connected to the Grail by her mother—”

“Wait,” Jim interrupts. “What do you mean, you’re connected to Siobhan?”

Lancer pauses. “Give me a moment… There; I’ve blocked communication with her for a moment. You probably needed a catalyst to summon Assassin, didn’t you? Siobhan didn’t need anything but herself to summon me. Her heritage was enough. I believe she is one of my descendants.”

Jim looks surprised. “Oh, okay. Go on, then.”

Lancer nods. “As I was saying, I’m tied to Siobhan, who is tied to the Grail War, and my era of legend is tied to the Cauldron of Rebirth, which Assassin and I both believe to be the vessel of the Grail. In addition to that – you know how magic largely functions on conceptual links? – I am conceptually linked to the Arthurian mythos despite not being from that era. Assassin and I work magic from the same source, for example, and even more basic than that, we are all from the British Isles.”

“…Huh,” Jim and Val both say, because that is all there is to say to such revelations. Then Jim adds, “Hey, uh… is your communication with Siobhan still off?” When Lancer nods, Jim steels himself with a deep breath and asks, “So, great-great-great-etc. grandma, can I ask for permission to date your descedent?”

Val bursts out laughing and Assassin just barely manages to suppress a smirk, but Lancer seems genuinely impressed by the gesture. “If Siobhan accepts your courtship, then you will get no complaints from me about it. I appreciate your courtesy to ask; there was not such a thing in my time. Besides, the last time someone had a relationship with one of my apprentices, it… well, it wasn’t pretty.” At Jim’s concerned expression, she explains, “Cu Chulainn had a relationship with my sister, and that ended badly for everyone.”

“Well,” Val chimes in, “A lot of people now think your sister was a vampire, so…”

Lancer snorts. “Well, I thought she was a demon.”

VII. Plotting and Planning

When the others return to the false basement, they see that Caster and Siobhan have taken it upon themselves to untie Archer and provide him with the promised sushi. But even after eating, their captive looks exceedingly fatigued. His skin, already pale, is bordering on ashen, and he slouches into his chair where before he had tried to proudly hold himself upright. The other three Servants exchange a look of concern; they know that his fatigue is a sign of a low pool of mana. They each relay this to their own Masters, and collectively decide to let Archer get some sleep.

After they have dragged a bed back into the room and let him fall into a deep slumber – which happens so quickly as to be alarming – Assassin checks him over to ensure that the fatigue is not just a side effect of her own magic. While that would be ideal, it appears to be untrue: Archer’s magic resistance has entirely flushed her magic out of his system, leaving no trace of the sleeping potion from earlier. She also finds further confirmation that he is in trouble: his own mana supply, small as it is due to his Class, appears to be running pretty thin.

Assassin leaves the room and Caster wards it behind her, both of them retreating to the living room to join the others. Assassin reports on her findings, then adds, “Ordinarily, using a Noble Phantasm takes enough out of us that we cannot use it again until we have had a chance to rest and recharge, but it does not deplete our supply as much as I saw with Archer. This does not bode well for his Master’s status. While there is a chance that the problem lies in the strength of the Vatican’s warding, we should also consider the possibility that Stella is no longer among the living.”

The group is silent for a long moment, pondering this news, before Caster says, “I can try to seek her out, to learn her status. When should I look?”

Lancer raises an eyebrow, but Assassin replies, “What can you find of her tomorrow morning?”

Caster settles into a chair and meditates, again casting his mind out into the future. Such prophecy is easier when he has a clear idea of a target, and he is pleased to find her quickly:

Whose eyes he sees her through, he does not know. The bed that Stella is in seems too comfortable to be standard hospital fare, but the room is clearly meant for healing and recovery. She is still in the Vatican, if the crucifixes on the walls and the fresco of the Holy Virgin are anything to go by, although he is vaguely surprised to see a Koran on the bedside table beside the rosary. She is propped up on pillows with the covers pulled up around her neck. He knows that beneath the covers, her arm has been bandaged – the same arm that held the Command Seal when last they met her. He gets the idea that she is in some pain, but there is no sense of a severe injury.

Caster draws his mind back out of the vision and explains it to the best of his ability. The implications of the bandage are left unexplored for the moment as Caster and Assassin fall into a discussion of how best to keep Archer alive while Stella is away. They decide that between the two of them, they can probably muster up enough magical energy to feed to Archer to keep him manifested; they both know that the other option is coercing him to do something heinous like eating human life energy, which he would almost certainly object to.

“I’m not going to pay for him to use his Noble Phantasm again, unless we really need it,” Caster declares, “And that, I sorely doubt.”

Assassin nods her agreement. “But perhaps he can be kept alive long enough to see out the end of the War.”

“Or at least to make sure that we can get Stella back and out alive,” Jim pipes up. “He should want to stick around at least for that.”

Siobhan frowns. “I don’t know about this plan. He seemed kind of… death-wishy to me.”

Assassin bites her lips and tilts her head in concession. “It is possible that he has given up already. Perhaps telling him that we know she is safe will help, but…”

Caster shakes his head. “Not without giving up information we don’t want him to have.”

***

As they have been discussing this, Val has withdrawn to the kitchen with his phone. It takes some doing, but he finally manages to find Orsino Veronesi’s private number. He retreats to one of the bedrooms and paces as the phone rings.

The voice that picks up is low, quiet, and familiar; the priest is as soft-spoken in person as he was on the television. “Good evening?”

“Am I speaking to Orsino Veronesi?” Val keeps his voice calm despite his nerves. This plan is a gamble, but a risk he is willing to take.

“You are,” the priest replies slowly, “who is calling? And how did you get this number?”

“I’m a concerned friend of Stella di Presagio’s,” Val answers smoothly. “And you’d be amazed what you can find on the internet.”

The priest hums. “I am consistently amazed by that, yes. Does this concerned friend have a name?”

As loathe as he is to give up advantages, Val learned from the meeting with Foreman McFarrell that it is best to give out a name. So he sighs inwardly and replies, “Valentin de Rosa. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Orsino hums again, in surprise instead of annoyance this time. “Yes, I have. So, what can I do for you, Mister de Rosa?”

The moment of truth: “I know that Stella is with you, and I want to be sure she’s okay. I would like a meeting. Shall we have tea?”

Orsino is quiet for a moment, then replies, “When?”

Val nearly draws back from the phone in surprise. “Tomorrow morning?”

He hears a chuckle on the other end. “Lucky for you, my service just got out, and I won’t be obliged to attend the Sunday morning one. Ten o’clock should work fine, shouldn’t it?”

“Yes, that should do.”

“Where?”

Now Val is suspicious; his target is being shockingly cooperative. He thinks for a moment, then replies, “You know La Tazza D’Oro?”

“I know it. I’ll see you there.”

“Before you go,” Val interjects, “I’d hoped Stella would be able to join us?”

“Unfortunately,” the priest hedges, “Miss di Presagio is not in a position to leave at this time. But if you wish, I can arrange a way to speak with her.”

“What do you mean, she isn’t in a position to leave?” Val demands, perhaps a bit more sharply than he intended.

“In the situation that we’re in,” Veronesi says, “things happen. We can discuss this tomorrow.”

“Very well,” Val grumbles.

“But before you go… She will be well pleased to know that someone is worried about her.” Veronesi pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are there any other regards to pass along?”

Val narrows his eyes. “She will know whose regards are being passed along. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And he hangs up.

***

After Val announces his established meeting with the priest, there is another round of argument between the Masters concerning the wisdom of the idea. In the meanwhile, Caster taps Assassin and Lancer on the arm and motions them to follow him back to one of the rooms.

Once alone, he turns to them and asks very seriously, “So, who wants to impersonate a god for this meeting?”

Lancer raises an eyebrow. “To what end?”

Assassin grins, for once whole-heartedly behind Caster’s plan. “What better guise is there when one is going to meet a priest?”

Lancer hums in thought, then asks, “Your power: it is shape-shifting, or simply illusion?”

“I can do both,” Caster tells her.

“Does it persist through becoming incorporeal?”

“It does for me,” Caster replies with a shrug, “but for everyone else, I cannot say.”

Lancer holds out her hand. “Try it.”

Assassin startles at this blatant display of trust, but Caster simply taps Lancer’s outstretched palm with his fingers. In an instant, she is transfigured into the form of her Master. She gasps sharply and turns her hands over and over, examining them closely. “Ah, it really is shape-shifting.” She relinquishes her physical form for her spirit one, and is back in an instant; the new shape does persist through the change. “Alright, this is strange. Please remove it.”

Caster laughs and acquiesces. Lancer seems to think for a moment, then says, “As entertaining as it would be to feign godhood for a day, I believe that neither Siobhan nor I should come along on this adventure. Nor should Jim, for that matter. If the priest is a Master, as Archer suggests, then he will be able to sense the presence of other Masters. I can’t imagine that you would want to leave your Master there without backup,” she addresses Caster, “and I do not want to leave mine here without a guard.”

Caster is disappointed that his grand plan has been dismissed, but he nods; it is at least a sensible objection. “It’s just as well. Val would probably wish to go alone to keep up the appearance of good faith.”

“I could go with you, though,” Assassin tells him. “I trust Lancer not to murder Jim while we’re away. Unless,” she turns to Lancer, “you would like some backup here in case something goes wrong with Archer.”

“No,” Lancer shakes her head. “If something goes drastically wrong, your Master can call you with a Command.”

With that matter settled, they all retire for the night.

***

At 8:30 Sunday morning, Assassin and Caster slip into the room where Archer sleeps. He has neither faded away during the night nor does he appear to be doing much better. His leg injury has started to heal, but it is nowhere near the rate that the other Servants experienced.

Assassin very carefully reaches out to poke Archer awake. It takes a surprising amount of force and persistence before the knight stirs.

“Mmmwhat,” comes the grumble into the pillow.

“I know that you are tired,” Assassin tells him, “but this one is not my fault. I have confirmed that my magic is out of your system. Your leg is healing, but not at the rate that it should. You are still bleeding mana.”

That gets Archer to roll over and slowly sit up. His hair is disheveled and there are prominent bags beneath his eyes. “This is how it ends, huh?”

Assassin slaps his arm sharply before she can think better of it. Archer bristles, but says nothing in response. “Do not start with me! We’re in here to make sure that you can remain manifested in this world.”

Archer turns a wary eye to both of his captors, doubtless trying to discern what methods they may have in mind. His expression grows even more distrustful when Caster continues, “I’ll share some mana with you to keep you on your feet, until we can determine what happened to Stella.”

Archer is silent for a moment, then asks, “You want to make a contract with me?”

Caster shrugs. “Nothing so complex as a Master-Servant bond, but in essence, yes. It will allow me to pass mana to you and monitor your status in case I need to pass more.”

“Why are you giving me this chance?” Archer asks flatly.

Assassin and Caster share a glance before Assassin replies, “We have reason to believe that the Holy Grail is not what we were told at our summoning, and that it reaching completion would spell disaster. If you die, you feed it; we do not want that. Besides, there is no reason to lose a potential ally if saving him is within our power.”

Archer still looks suspicious, but nods in agreement, turning to face them both. “Fine. Do whatever you must.”

Caster places a hand on Archer’s chest, just over his heart. It seems to be the most appropriate way to start the connection. For a moment, Caster’s mana wars with Archer’s magic resistance, but Caster recalls forming his contract with his familiar and tries to shape the approach in the same way.

The change is instantaneous; Archer’s complexion returns to normal and he breathes easier than before. He pushes Caster’s hand away and shudders. “That is a strange feeling.”

“Believe me, the revulsion is mutual,” Caster replies coolly. “But now I will be able to sense if you flag and send you mana if you need it. Attack my allies or try to use your Noble Phantasm, and I will cut you off. Understood?”

Archer glares at him, but nods sharply.

VIII. Meeting With an Executor

While Siobhan, Lancer, and Jim remain at the safe house, Val heads off to the coffee shop with Caster and Assassin in invisible tow. Assassin locates a discreet spot to place herself where she can watch the window at the front of the coffee shop; a restaurant across the street with outdoor seating does the trick nicely. Meanwhile, Caster has assumed a new form and remains in spirit form as he follows Val into the shop.

Orsino Veronesi is seated at the front of the shop, visible through the large window at the front. Today he is dressed in a purple polo shirt and black slacks, much more casual attire than the full priest garb he wore on television. In his hand is a cup of tea larger than any of them thought the shop sold.

As Val enters the shop, he senses the mild tinge of pain from another Command Seal’s presence. He catches Orsino’s eye and nods to him, waiting for the polite nod in return before getting into line to place his order. He silently asks Caster if he senses any Servants, and Caster responds in the negative. Of course, neither would Caster’s presence be apparent to another Servants while he is incorporeal.

A cup of coffee in hand, Val seats himself across the table from Orsino. “Mister Veronesi, it’s good to see you at this fine hour.”

“You’re cheating,” the priest deadpans, before breaking into a teasing smile at Val’s surprise. “You ordered coffee.”

Val smiles back. The priest sets his tea down on the table and rolls up his glove to discreetly reveal his Command Seal, three perfectly intact red curves. Val does the same, revealing his own intact Command Seal: they are on the same level.

Orsino chuckles softly. “I had to make sure. Can you tell I don’t get out very often?”

“I wouldn’t expect a Vatican man to get out much at all,” Val tells him. “Besides, you’re retired, aren’t you?”

Orsino studies him, for a moment, “What is a rock star doing in this War?”

“What’s an Executor doing in it?” Val shoots back.

“We’re not here to talk about me,” Orsino deflects. “Nor are we here to talk about you, exactly. You wanted to know about Stella. She is well. She is perhaps better than could be expected. Why are you concerned about her?” He pauses, then adds, “She does not have many friends.”

“She is a friend,” Val insists, “and furthermore, an ally. I want to protect my allies. Surely someone who is supposed to be a man of God must understand morality?”

“Of course,” the priest nods. “Which is the source of my concern. She came to me for protection. I’m not inclined to give excessive details without some credentials.”

“You’ve seen some of my credentials.” Val motions to his hand.

“You might be another victim of the War, or you might be an instigator.”

“I don’t anything to do with the setup,” Val insists. “And I hadn’t met Stella before the War. I sought her assistance in fighting an instigator. She never arrived. It turns out she was in your – apparently capable – hands.”

Orsino lifts his hand and traces an unfamiliar symbol in the air in front of Val. When nothing occurs and Val looks at him with concern, Orsino nods in something like an apology. “I had to ensure that you weren’t – well, not you.” He sighs heavily and tells Val, “I became involved in the War after a certain item was delivered to the Vatican. I had been called in for circumstances that I thought were unrelated. It turns out that they suspected a War was happening and called a lot of Executors out of retirement, to my surprise. I truly believe that it was happenstance that I was there in the courtyard when the item was delivered. Nevertheless, it came to pass that I looked upon the contents of the box, then this appeared,” he motions to his own hand, “and the next thing I know, I was handed a summoning ritual and instructions. Because I needed another one of those in my life.”

“Another?”

“Yes,” the priest says dismissively. “Rest assured that I did not want to be here. I was on a very nice vacation in the Bahamas when I was recalled.”

“Do you want to tell me what was in that box?” Val asks.

“No. But now I’ve told you how I’m connected to the War. Would you like to give me your story?”

Val thinks for a moment, formulating his terms carefully. Finally, he settles on, “The Sea of Estray is connected to many things.”

Orsino nods. “I know that Atlas sent some investigators, but what happened to them, I’m not sure. Did Estray send you?”

“Yes,” Val lies. “Estray is why I’m involved, and I know Rome rather intimately because of my family. The whole thing seems like people keep winding up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Orsino nods sadly. “That matches my admittedly limited observations as well. I summoned my Servant rather late, it seems, and besides meeting with you just now, Stella is the only other Master who I have met. That was also the first time that we had left the Vatican as a team.”

Val lets his surprise show on his face. “But Servants can’t exist in the Vatican, can they?”

“There appears to be an exception for ones that were summoned there,” Orsino replies.

“The boundary field doesn’t keep him in?”

Orsino shakes his head. “He can go in and out whenever he wishes. The night that I met Stella, I wasn’t exactly looking for her. Rightly, I went to whoever I could run into, whoever God could lead me to. I went out to see if I could fund anyone who was willing to speak with me that did not involve, well, coming to blows immediately. I suppose I was lucky to run into Stella.”

“And Stella chose to come with you?”

“I was surprised as well.”

Val narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Entirely of her own will? I find that hard to believe.”

“Do you know about why and how she got involved in the War?”

“Of course,” Val nods, although he only has a vague idea.

It is Orsino’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Are you truly a friend to her?” He sits forward, leaning in close to Val, who holds his gaze without fear. “Because if you mean her any harm,” and here the priest’s eyes flash briefly golden, “I will kill you where you sit.”

“Caster?!” Val hisses silently. “What was that?!”

Caster makes a surprised noise in Val’s mind. “A display of power. Golden eyes are the sign of a backseat driver of some sort. Didn’t your research suggest that the Vatican retired him out of concern that he had made an inappropriate contract?”

Instead of responding to Caster, Val nods to Orsino. “The feeling is mutual, Executor. I want the best for Stella, and I’m not convinced that you’re it.”

Seemingly satisfied with this response, Orsino sits back and takes another sip of his tea. “I know that Stella was coerced into joining the War. I am know reasonably confident that the coercer is not you.”

“Your concern mirrors my own. How can I be sure that you are not the coercer? You clearly have something going on.” Val motions to the priest’s eyes.

Orsino chuckles. “I am under an influence, shall we say, but not of the man who has contracted with Stella. I have not met this Vasilyevich, and frankly, God help him if we ever do meet.”

Val smiles in satisfaction. “You’ve given me confidence, Executor. I know enough about the restrictions that influenced Stella to understand the significance of your ability to give his name.”

“Luckily, Stella no longer has to worry about those restrictions. I was able to break the geis.”

Again, Val allows himself to look surprised. “Well, that saves me a bit of work.”

“You can do it, too?” Orsino asks, also surprised. “I thought it was just an Executor thing.” He thinks for a moment, then allows, “Perhaps you would like to see her for yourself. If you trust me enough to follow me back to the Vatican, that is.”

“May I bring an ally along?” Val asks. “Another friend to Stella?”

Orsino nods. “As long as it is someone who can enter the holy ground. Why don’t we meet up nearby?”

He pulls out his phone and finds an intersection about a block from the front entrance, which Val knows to be in clear public view. They agree to meet up about noon, and before they part, Orsino says, “We will meet you there.”

“Is your backseat driver coming along?” Val inquires.

Orsino gives an amused smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him called that before.”

They part ways; Val walks vaguely in the direction of the safe house while Caster follows Orsino to make sure he does not trail Val himself. The priest heads straight to his car, parked a few blocks away, and then drives as directly to the Vatican as one can drive in a city made of one-way streets. There remains no sense of another Servant’s presence, although Caster notes to Val that the Servant could be incorporeal.

***

Back at the safe house, Jim gets a text from Val asking him to check in with Granny Gertrude about any Atlas investigators that may have been sent to learn about the War. He does so, but Granny says that she is too far out of the loop to know much about the organization’s current actions.

“You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with someone named Stella di Presagio, would you?” he asks, figuring it to be a long shot.

To his surprise, Granny gets back to him quickly: “Ooh, I do know Stella! Wonderful with spatial manipulation, I believe. The poor dear lost her family 15 years back. Or maybe it was 10. Ooh, I don’t really remember, dear, but I do know she was a lovely person!”

Jim thanks Granny for the information and receives a long string of hearts and smiley faces in return, half of which his brick of a cell phone does not properly render.

#session log post

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