[Plot] [Ca/Ca/Ca/Se/Be] Week 020: Shadow of a Doubt

[freckles]

I care only to survive, the android repeated in his stack, probing the value of that statement. Surviving was an instinct that the demvir could understand clearly, especially if compared to hunger or sexual arousal. The addition of that only in the sentence, however, seemed to limit the scope of a life. If survival constituted the sole basilar necessity in the velen in front of the robot, how difficult was life for him? The machina crossed his arms on his chest, in a defensive gesture, as well as a pensive one.

“A very interesting concept,” HAL admitted simply, looking at his interlocutor and trying to decipher what the other was not saying. Which experiences could the aquatic share with him? Before the living automaton could pursue that line of enquiry, the velen’s presence was required where one of the saints was conducting the questioning. The demvir followed the gaze of the survivor, yet there was not much there that the android could gather.

Another thought stroke his mind. If they were calling the next in line, where was Sigrid? Perhaps, she had been released or, maybe, she was kept detained more indefinitely. The robot was not sure he should care for someone so self-centred, yet he could not prevent himself from hoping she was fine. At the very least, she had been a good customer.

Eventually, HAL turned his attention back to Vesper, who had not given any sign of interest for his proposal. The smith seemed much more sombre than before, but the android could not say if that was due to anxiety or anything else. “Are you fine?” he enquired conversationally, collapsing on the bench. “I hope they are not going to keep us here longer than necessary.”


[ 1357 ]

 

[K3]

"Nor refusing to explain its function or purpose." Echoed back Deimar. Leaning forward on his arms, he adjusted them slightly as he splayed both hands across the desk. Staring critically at Dio, the man offered a pensive hum before sitting back once more.

From his left, the saint retrieved a small folder, a dull manilla with crumpled scraps of paper lining its interior. Frowning heavily, the rumbling voice was harsh. "You don't exactly have a clean record, mister Adrastus. Assault, disturbing the peace, and then refusing to divulge your... companion's... purpose and intent in his state?

"I do hope you have something to say for yourself on this issue." By the doubtful look on Deimar's face, it wasn't a terribly convincing line.

[ 122 / 1671 ]

 

[The Liar]

Focus.

In as much time as it would take him to blink just once, Dio inhaled and did all that he could to keep every ounce of blood from rushing to his head. In the span of a scant few seconds he needed to not only keep his composure but do so without being noticed. For as brief as his eyes were shut, he dove into the depths of his memories in search of the faces of the enforcers with which he'd interacted. He had decided that Deimar could only have received such specific charges from his brief stint in a cell.

I see you.

Just as Eli's face had come to him prior to his return to Sabulsis, the Korvus enforcer he had bribed showed his face. There was very little time to settle on his vindictive urges, but it was enough for him to understand what needed to be done. When his eyes next opened he had managed to keep himself still — or so he had thought, as a tense breath escaped his lips. Desperate to dress it up, he forced his lungs to expel enough air to transform a sigh into a stressed chuckle.

"I must apologize, your holiness. I was not completely forthright with you." Dio weaved his fingers together on the table.

"I had left Terminus some time ago to visit my family, or more specifically, my brother." Dio paused to return his gaze to Deimar. "The incident you are citing is a misunderstanding — not between myself and the officiating officers, but between family. The Adrasti were once a tightly-knit family, and my decision to take up residence in Terminus was a..." He allowed the statement to trail off to simulate thought.

"Well, it was contentious.I had wished to stay longer, but upon the 'incident', I thought it better to leave." Slowly Dio could feel his pulse returning to its resting rate. "With regard to its purpose: this particular demvir bears education in the operation of land-faring vehicles, and could be of great help to a fledgling in the art of Ingeniarius such as myself.

"And, should it receive even the most basic of functioning limbs, it is a unit that does not tire nor require food. A second pair of hands in the pursuit of basic living wages would be of no small value." Dio straightened his back somewhat.

"Your holiness asks of its intent, but it is without arms or legs of its own," Dio said plainly. "It wishes only to reclaim its mobility. Much as it would like to see more of this great city, it was my desire to attend the day's celebration that delayed the endeavor."

[445/1831]
​

 

[K3]

Once more leaning forward, and with a disconcerting frown creased across his wrinkled face, Deimar's voice seemed to rumble all the more for his words. "You must realize, of course, that your word is at stake then. Am I to trust someone who has been at odds with the law, and in the same breath as your explanation have admitted your dishonesty?"

Grumbling incoherently to himself, he leant back and gestured to a guard. Talking in a hushed whisper that was inaudible to Dio even in the maddening silence of the tent, the guard swiftly exited. The velen looked to trace his movement, but was swiftly brought to face Deimar as the wizened man cleared his throat.

"Your cooperation to follow will be tantamount to whether your testimony can be believed, young aquatic." He warned, before continuing with a deliberate tone. Slow and enunciated, as though each word were measured before being given, "There are a number of people who were close enough to the stage today who might've seen something. One of the winners of the celebrations of Noctle Nils waited with you, but if you were to speak of who else might know more about this..?"

[ 198 / 1869 ]

 

[The Liar]

In the troubled waters Dio's thoughts had become, Deimar's sudden shift in discussion topic caused elation to crash down upon him as though a cleansing tsunami. He had to exert as much focus, if not more, to maintain himself in that moment. For he had not only prepared for the moment, but groomed his earlier conversations specifically in advance. Furtively, he looked at the tent's entrance and then turned to face the saint once again.

"I have very little knowledge of the one with whom I waited, other than it goes by the name of HAL." Dio spoke in a hushed tone to match the new environment. "I spoke briefly with it, and it suggested that it had no prior history with hunting or the like."

For emphasis, Dio slid forward somewhat and shifted his gaze so that he would finally make prolonged eye-contact with Deimar.

"I don't mean to prattle, but in our talks a thought occurred to me: is it possible that it knew Eximium would speak prior to entering the hunts? Can it truly be mere coincidence that it entered this exact Nocte Nils, in this exact year, and after stepping so close to the magister, the unthinkable happened?" Dio inhaled and briefly looked down at his own hands.

"I may be in no position to place guilt," Dio felt the beginning of a small rush. "But I do not believe in events occurring with such precision and yet still being coincidental. It is my belief that those behind the day's tragedy must have interfered with the hunts in order to falsify HAL's victory, all so that it could be placed immediately in the magister's vicinity."

By the end of Dio's statement his jaw was jutting out, as though he had personal stake in helping to find the true culprit. As though he were overcome, he sat back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest.

"I apologize, your holiness, for my forwardness." Dio shook his head as though he were sad. "But I do not believe that HAL was merely a bystander. If there is a ringleader to be found, it must be that HAL has some knowledge of him, to say nothing of its own deeds."

[374/2205]
​

 

[K3]

"So," Deimar began, "let me see if I have your facts straight."

Holding out one hand, he upturned it as though weighing it in his palm. Without breaking his gaze on Dio, he continued. "You believe one of our winners is of fault or worthy of inquiry, to such an extent that you believe that our people, my people would've falsified results to allow a demvir to close distance to my departed comrade.

"You also believe that of every year, a demvir - not the only to enter - would specifically have malicious intent and entered the tournament in such a way as to enable himself to attack my departed friend." Deimar held out his other hand, creating a brief facsimile of a scale tipping this way and that.

Letting his hands fall, the man concluded his statements brusquely. "I'm afraid such contrivances must be discarded, child. I asked not for the demvir, I asked for others. Surely one of your... discerning nature would've taken note of more than the obvious... indulge me further, with what else you took note of."

If the laicar had any more to say, he didn't indicate it. Instead, scratching idly at his balding head and massaging his eyes, the man waited for another tale to be spun by the silver-tongued velen. Flipping absently through another folder, intermittent frowns and scowls told volumes of how pleased the saint appeared to be.

[ 236 / 2105 ]

 

[The Liar]

Taking a breath, Dio shuffled through what he could remember as well as what he knew of his companions waiting in the other tent. After so much blustering, he felt as though he hadn't quite prepared enough. Just when he was ready to drop the entirety of his facade and say to Deimar's face "Look upon me with pity, for I have run out of lies to tell" his only possible solution occurred to him. Slowly at first, the words came and their pace only increased.

"Of those with whom I spent time in the other tent, there is a young spurii — likely of velen and enlil heritage." Dio was visibly sickened by the mention of the latter species. "I believe she goes by 'Vesper'. Her general manner was oddly furtive, as though she had something to hide.

"I did not press her, as I was unfortunately distracted by..." Dio paused to prevent a heavy sigh from leaving his lungs. "Contrivances of my own making. Surely, she could be of some interest to your holiness."

[175/2380]
​

 

[K3]

Deimar's frown did not relent, but it seemed to appease something in his critical gaze, for it relented a moment later. The guard returned, and for a medic he was strangely well-carried, and waited patiently.

Looking over Dio's shoulder, the saint gave a sigh and gestured to the door. "We shall be in touch, Adrastus. I should hope that your words ring true, or our next conversation shan't be as pleasant."

Waving the velen out the door, the saint fixed his gaze on the file still open on the desk. HAL, the sole demvir winner of the Nocte Nils celebrations. It was suspect, moreso with the automaton's possession of a drone at the time of the assassination. Now with two other people of interest seemingly content to implicate the unscrupulous machina, less seemed in its favor than ever.

"The half-breed next," He rumbled to the blonde medic now stationed, as he admitted Dio outside. The velen would find his limbless companion ready for transportation, albeit somewhat put out at being handled by someone other than the budding engineer. Sigrid had long since left, leaving only two occupants within the confines of the opposing tent.

Finally, poking his head through the flap and trying to suppress a shiver in the winter air, the medic asked more curtly, "Miss Venatrix?"

[ 218 / 2323 ]

 

[FogOverLondon]

The Spurii was still muttering about how "calmly" she would be when finally in the presence of the Saint.

Calm. Calm. Calm..., she repeated over and over.

When her name was finally called, she perked up, awakened from her repetitive mantra.

"Me! I'm Vesper!"

"His Holiness will see you now, Miss Venatrix," the medic said, bringing both palms to rest upward, highlighting some invisible pathway out of the tent.

The blast of wintery bluster raged and then stopped, as it had been doing against the barrier of the tent for a while now. Even the wind appeared to be angry, searching for truth along with the holyman.

The blacksmith came to rest behind her escort and took a deep breath while he gently opened the entrance to Deimar's tent.

She tried to call forth in her memory what her sister Virgo, a warrior nun, might call her superiors.

Anxiously, though certainly not warily, she sat and tipped her chin down toward the older man.

"Your Grace," she said.

[170/850]

 

[K3]

Nodding critically in response, the man wasted no time in speaking. "Miss... Venatrix, I understand? Shall we dispense with formalities and skip to the heart of the matter?"

Brown eyes narrowed, the saint patted down his blue robes for but a moment before he leveled his accusations. "I would like to understand what you were doing in the square on this day, Miss Venatrix. I have had multiple people call into question your... accountability today.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you the consequences that befall liars and miscreants? 'Whoever shall speak in dishonesty shan't speak at all, for their tongues have been forged and their words drip with iron molten'." The recited scripture from the Annales Viskar was not accompanied by any jovial expression or sage gesturing. The saint wanted answers, and expected them promptly.

[ 137 / 2460 ]

 

[freckles]

He had been neglected for decades at a time, so HAL thought that other people ignoring him should not hurt his feelings. On the other hand, that very fact seemed to resonate malevolent from the distant past and into the present, striking his soul – if he had one – as a sledgehammer on an anvil. The android had been on the verge of spring up to say something, but had forced every fibre of his body to stay put. Despite his willpower, he had partially moved, as if the android had started to stand up, to change idea in mid-movement.

When Vesper had been called to the other tent, Sigrid and the velen identified as Diomedes had not came back. The smith had ignored his comments and chitchat, rising as soon as the man at the door had called her name. Was there something wrong with him for which others tended to disregard his attempts at establishing a connection?

“What about me then?” the robot pointed out, addressing nobody in particular. Thinking about that, addressing nobody because nobody was around.

A sense of frustration crept up his spine, obliging the living automaton to stand up – he was alone after all – and to pace the tent in long strides. Since he had arrived in Terminus, the machine had only tried to build up a life from scratches. Finding a mentor, carving out a niche for himself was just the start. Taking up missions, and being helpful, had been an additional effort to be acknowledged. After all, he had taken part at the Gavelock’s Hunt for the same reason. Why would the rest of the Grand City see that as a sin, or an attempt at diminishing the glory of one race or the other?

In his restlessness, the android had reached the opening at the entrance of the tent. In a swift movement, he cuckooed between the folds, but stepped off as quickly lest someone might think he was attempting to flee. The living automaton had nothing to hide, nor anything he should be ashamed of. The robot had won that laicar competition fair and square. What had he got in return? Suspicion and mistrust. What a wonderful reward, he threaded in his mind with a trace of anger starting to bulge its way into his consciousness.

If the android could let his fury to explode, he would shatter something just for the feel of it. Yet, he needed to maintain his nerves, calm down. Giving in to such an outburst of rage, however, would just be counterproductive. The masses, which behave as a sort of unreasonable and illogical multi-headed monster, would just take from that event what they wanted and give out the sentence. The machine looked at his hands, weapons in their own right, yet everything that they had left him. They had taken everything from him, even his drone.

Actually, he realized checking a tiny hollow region of his abdomen, everything except for this envelope. Opening it up harshly, HAL went through the neat note in a disinterested fashion. A thousand Exa? he asked himself, looking at the sum reported in the reward message. I should be glad that, at the very least, I got this much, the robot added mentally, looking disoriented around the tent.

With a drunken stride, the living automaton went back to one of the benches. Still holding in one of his mechanical hands the note, completely creased, HAL sagged down on himself, supporting himself with the other arm. Brooding as he had never done before, the machina awaited the moment his name would be finally called as well.



[ 1961 ]

 

[FogOverLondon]

Her calm had almost entirely been unraveled in the short walk between tents. Her usual disdain for authority seemed to only have context when she dealt with her sister, Virgo. It was an unsettling realization as she silently tapped her foot. More, it was hard to justify being flippant as she wiped clammy palms on her pants and tried to choke out an answer for the clergyman.

"M-my accountability? Who? I-I mean, your Grace, I didn't see anything! I swear!" she stammered, failing to maintain coherency in her nervousness, "I was in the square... I was, I mean, I have a license to smith and a shop I rent, but I was in the square because of the crowd. I've been away a while and, and, and, I- hoo, boy, I can't believe this is happening..."

Final [136/986]

 

[K3]

"Enough," Deimar commanded, holding up an open palm to halt the spurii's babbling. "If you have nothing to say on your own behalf, you leave me no choice but to-"

"Your Holiness?" A voice croaked out, high and reedy. The blonde medic poked his head into the tent, decidedly pale.

Frowning, the saint said nothing but beckoned the boy inside, looking none too pleased at the interruption. The medic swiftly took up space at his side, whispering into the venerable man's ears and casting furtive glances to the tent door.

Looking gravely back at the man as he finished, Deimar rumbled out, "Are you sure?"

The medic nodded, "Yes, your Holiness, it is sent from Father Vexus."

The man's bushy eyebrows raised, then quickly furrowed. Turning his attention half back to Vesper, he spoke in an exasperated tone. "It would seem other matters seek my attention, young Miss Venatrix. I would ask you to leave, and do well to distance yourself from the events of today. If any information should come to you about this terrorist group or their goings on, seek the authorities."

Without another word, the blonde medic had helped Vesper up and out of the tent. Just as swiftly, she was shown out of the square, the laicar spinning on his heel and entering the visitor's tent with two guards astride him.

Entering, the man looked with critical green eyes at the demvir brooding in one corner of the tent. "You need to come with us."

The guards flanked either side of HAL, leading him up and into Deimar's tent where they remained, unconvinced by the machina's contemplative manner. No seat was present, now, and the demvir was made to stand before the saint still hunched over a flimsy desk. With oaken eyes grave and hardened, he laced his fingers together and rested his chin upon them, propping his elbows against the desk.

"Demvir... we have much to discuss."

Final [ 322 / 2782 ]