Re: The Phenomenal Fracas (GBS2G6) [Round Five: The Ambitus Phenomenon]
12-07-2012, 06:35 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
The doctor and the treasurer had long since been dismissed and the young wizard shooed off. That left only the queen and her security chief alone in the little side room with the princess. Little Lillian, for her part, was sniffling and hiccupping near-constantly, and her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks threatened to lapse back into full-blown tears at any moment. The security chief was doing his level best to get her to repeat what she’d told him and elaborate, but so far he hadn’t had much to show for it.
“So,” he said, plastering on his best non-threatening smile, “We’re all alone now, and everyone’s perfectly safe. Why don’t you tell Her Majesty what’s wrong, alright?”
It would have been hard to call the series of noises that followed words, but they were certainly trying to be. The jumbled mess of syllables and keening culminated in a wail, and Princess Lillian broke down. Again. It was too much for the queen to bear, and she pulled the girl close, cradling her head against her shoulder while rocking and shushing her.
“It’s alright,” she murmured. “Nothing bad is going to happen to anyone, okay?”
As the soothing prattle wore on, Laguja sighed internally. This whole charade was a trying reminder of why it had been willing to spend an entire century waiting for its servant to be returned to it; without a compliant host to channel its power, it couldn’t simply hijack the girl’s body and have her deliver its message. It had been simple enough to conjure a couple of illusory loose-lipped assassins, but actually getting that information relayed… If the queen and her reign were to survive, time was probably of the essence; yet, here the pincushion was, relying on a hysterical human child to be its mouthpiece. Exasperatedly, it began subtly altering the girl’s mood and slowing her breathing.
Fortunately, despite the host of distressing implications and complications inherent in Laguja’s bifurcation, it did give it the ability to tackle problems from multiple fronts. If all went well, the queen might ultimately not require evacuation at all.
---
The ancient woman paused for a moment to admire the emerging stars; it was one of her favorite sights, watching the sky suffuse itself with twilight as the sun set behind the cathedral. The star-flecked black on the far horizon slid through shades of azure and ultramarine until it met the cheerful blue of the church’s dome, seeming for a moment every day to simply continue from the heavens to the earth, a literal manifestation of the God’s gift of existence. That instant never failed to bring a song to her heart, and she pushed through the big double doors smiling even as the sky darkened and the burnished dome reflected the twinkling cosmos.
Inside, Triumphan was shuffling about the empty worship hall, extinguishing candles; a being of lesser stature might have needed a snuffer, but the priest’s massive frame let him simply reach for all but the most distant wicks and snap them dark between his claws. As he heard the door opening, he turned towards the sound, surprise melting quickly into his surprisingly-warm-for-a-reptile smile as he recognized the figure hobbling in.
“Abbess!” He exclaimed. “What a wonderful surprise to see you tonight. I wish you’d warned me of your coming. I’d have had something prepared.”
The abbess meandered towards him, smiling and leaning heavily on her cane. “Oh, nonsense. There’s no need to go to any trouble. This is a purely social call anyway.”
“Well, at least let me get some light in here for you,” he rumbled, fumbling in his robe for a bundle of sulphur-heads. “You caught me just as I was leaving.”
She shook her head. “No, no, you have rituals to perform. Don’t let me get in your way.”
With a wave of her hand and a quiet prayer, she called on a minor boon; her sclera began to glow a faint and gentle gold, and she blinked rapidly as she became accustomed to her enhanced sight.
“No sense wasting wax and time on an old woman.”
Hesitating slightly, Triumphan returned to his work. After a few more flames met their ends under his brisk ministrations, he spoke up.
“So to what do I owe the honor of your visit this evening?”
“Oh, like I said, it’s just a social call. Came to see how you are, how everything’s holding up.” There was a pause as she looked up to take in a mother-of-pearl-inlaid triptych, free hand resting on the small of her back. “This place becomes more glorious every year. It makes me glad its care was entrusted to you.”
“No expense or sacrifice is too great in the service of the God.”
“Truly.”
The pair of them proceeded around the room in opposite directions, she unhurriedly appreciating the renovations and additions that had been made under Triumphan’s direction, he serenely extinguishing the remaining lights and occasionally shooting glances her direction.
As she rounded the altar, she bent reverentially before the God’s image to a chorus of pops and creaks. As she gazed contemplatively at the statue’s base, Triumphan suddenly raised his voice.
“In fact,” he blurted, "Why not come back into the vestibule and I can show you some of the pieces I've had commissioned?"
Head lowered, the abbess murmured "Let me pay my respects, first."
Instead of closing her eyes in silent contemplation as she would normally have done, though, the old women simply squinted, staring at the statue's feet and the plinth it sat on. She stared until her eyes watered and kept staring, golden eyes glinting in the rising gloom, looking at and through the stone.
Triumphan strode heavily through the aisle, unhurried steps belying his mounting panic. As he stepped around his pulpit and opened his mouth as though to speak, she slowly turned around and raised her head; her eyes met his, betraying a heartbroken sadness and betrayal.
"It's true, then."
"What do you–"
She cut him off, whirling as fast as she could back to the statue and brushing it aside with a flash of gold and a murmur of the old tongue. She pointed at the trapdoor with one gnarled finger and rounded on the priest again.
"This isn't just treason, it's blasphemy! You, a man of the cloth, denying the divine mandate. Defying our scriptures."
"It's not so simple as–"
"Then you're telling me there's not a cache of weapons and a cadre of warriors down there? That you don't plan to make war, that you don't plan to abandon the strictures of peace?"
Triumphan was silent, his arms crossed.
"Make peace with yourself and your sins, Father. This is... This is unforgivable."
"The king's actions are the unforgivable, Abbess. He has lost his divine favor through his folly."
She strode angrily towards him, her limp only accentuating the stamping of her feet.
"You have no right to decide the God's will! The fact that you could even say that!"
She drew level with him, the colossal lizard looking placidly down at the fuming old woman and making no move to rebuff her.
"And you have let your long life set you in your ways. You've forgotten how to serve His glory, and merely repeat the chants every day because you don't know anything else. You are no holy woman. You are a puppet of your own beliefs."
"How DARE you!"
Her shout drowned out the click of the trapdoor opening, and she probably wouldn't have bothered to look even if it hadn't.
"You are a warmonger, Triumphan. It's clear to me now you only worship yourself, and it sickens me to know that your flock has been fed your lies for all these years."
She began to stride past him, and he made no move to stop her.
"I will go to the palace. Perhaps in my absence you should pray for the guidance you have long since lost."
Even in the midst of discovering that the priest had been plotting a rebellion and abandoning what she saw as the mandates of their religion, the abbess would never have stopped to consider that he might harm her. It was probably naive and certainly unwise, but in the end it turned out to be accurate. As the hail of bolts slammed into her back, her face locked into a final expression of surprise and pain before she fell to the floor.
Triumphan crossed the floor and knelt by her body, closing her eyes before turning to the creature that had emerged from below.
"Did you have to kill her?"
It slotted a number of wickedly-barbed iron projectiles into the repeating crossbow it had just emptied.
"Would have betrayed cause, could not be reasoned with. Unlikely to be restrained successfully with clerical abilities. Was the only way to prevent disastrous warning of royal family."
"Hmm." It was all probably true, but it still felt wrong to murder her in cold blood.
"One life a small price to pay to save country from false king's tyranny. Blood must be spilled for salvation."
He stood back up, absentmindedly brushing his claws on his robes. "Of course. I would have liked to show more of the church the light after this night, but... In the end, the few must be sacrificed for the many."
The squid-thing holstered its weapon and nodded. "Mission must succeed. Divine mandate falls to us. Misguided superiors an acceptable price."
"What worries me now," Triumphan rumbled thoughtfully, "Is that she can't have been the only one who knew. Even setting aside how she found out..." His mind briefly flashed back to the strange pirate woman from earlier in the evening. "She wouldn't have kept it all to herself. And even if she did, she came here to confirm what she heard, which meant that whoever told her knows. And could tell someone else."
"Events already in motion. Cannot be stopped by early warning. Possibility of mole grave, but does not ultimately matter."
"No. The revolt must move forward. But I fear we may have to begin sooner than we hoped. If the police-houses have been warned, they'll be ready, and they'll be massing the palace guards too. We can no longer assume we have the advantage of surprise, and we can't afford to lose time crippling the infrastructure before we attack."
"Believe we should move straight to strike against castle?"
"Yes." He paused for a moment, contemplating the corpse that was staining his processional carpet. "Send a few of your explosives experts to police stations to keep them frightened and busy, but we're going to divert most of our manpower to the direct assault."
He began to stride out of the church, purpose strengthening with each step.
"We will attack immediately, before they have time to prepare."
---
The queen was still holding Lillian, but by now the girl had lapsed into silence; her mother was having a hard time coming to grips with the situation herself, unable to form a cogent thought or say whatever the security chief was expectantly waiting for her to say. Eventually, she calmed herself as much as she could and spoke with only a minimal quaver.
“We’ll have to tell the king.”
The man shook his head. “We’ve already spoken to His Majesty. As soon as the princess told us what she could, he was advised of the situation.”
“Well, I still want to be able to talk with him about–“
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, he has already made a decision, and time is of the essence.”
The queen narrowed her eyes. “What decision?”
“We suspect – that is to say, he believes – that given the occasion, you are the main target of whatever treasonous elements…”
He trailed off, not wanting to further upset Lillian, but it was too late. The girl wailed and clung tighter to her mother, who squeezed her and shot her security chief a glare.
“I demand you bring me to my husband, Davidson.”
“I’m sorry, Majesty, but I have my orders.”
“What. Orders.”
“An illusionist has been dispatched to take your place at the ball. Your children have been evacuated in three groups, and as soon as you’ve been briefed, I’m to take you and Princess Lillian out of the castle and to a safehouse in the country.”
“And what of my husband?”
“The king intends to stay and oversee whatever efforts become necessary to repel the usurpers.”
The queen quickly bit something back, intent on not upsetting her daughter further, but inwardly she fumed. How could he put himself in danger like that? And how could he treat her like this? Their whole marriage and their whole reign had been a cooperative endeavor, but as soon as danger reared its head...
She steeled her voice as best she could. “Take me to see him, or I’ll go myself.”
“I’m sorry, Majesty, but I have my orders and your escort is already being assembled.”
Throughout the whole exchange, Laguja had been considering its position. On the one hand, it seemed that the queen had less actual power than it had expected; on the other, her importance was as a symbol, not an actual monarch. Besides, if the king was killed in the coming rebellion, she would take full control of the throne. The evacuation was pragmatic enough, and close to what Laguja had hoped to accomplish in any case. Staying with and protecting the queen seemed to be as safe a choice as attempting to get itself into the king’s hands or trying to get him to leave as well, and it lacked the difficulty of actually transferring itself to him. It decided to simply stay where it was; there was no need to go to the trouble for an uncertain reward, and things were playing out satisfactorily as they were.
---
The pair of Eureka and Syvex approached the incongruous door cautiously. Syvex in particular had a hard time seeing much inside, given the lighting, but at first glance there didn’t seem to be anyone immediately obvious. Or anything for that matter, setting aside the sudden appearance of some sort of door-based portal or shed with a pocket dimension inside it.
They both edged closer, peering in for any sign of life or movement. After a few moments, Syvex spoke up.
“Let me check this out. I think it’s more important that you figure out what’s going on. Where the others are.” He paused briefly, before continuing with “How we can stop this.”
Eureka rolled her eyes. Syvex had been acting weirdly this whole round, but it was understandable. She guessed. It wasn’t as though she particularly cared where the zombie guy had gone anyway, so she flipped the book back open to where she’d left off. Blah blah blah, night of the revolution, blah blah tree guy warns the guards, blah blah blah…
“Hang on…”
Syvex turned around to face her, which was always a little unsettling given his lack of eyes.
“They didn’t die, now. Or at least it doesn’t say they did.”
“What? What happened, then?”
“Uh, one second…”
a group of individuals including a colossal treant approached the castle guards claiming to have knowledge of a coming attack on the royal family
they were of course detained believed to be dissidents or liars as well as suspected of having been unlawfully using the palace grounds
but shortly thereafter the guard captain received word that their story was corroborated by other sources
a plan had been revealed to assassinate the king and queen on the night of her birthday although I do not know with any specificity what other sources the guards had
it is my belief that by this point in the evening events were already underway with the security team acting on whatever intelligence they had received
but they and the royal family did their best to maintain the charade of nonchalance and safety to their people until fighting actually began
notably the apparent absence of all the—
It went on much longer, but didn’t seem to be about to mention anything relevant to the tree guy and his group. Eureka looked up.
“Someone backed them up, or something. The guards believed them because someone else said the samestuff was going to happen. But… We didn’t do anything, we were just standing here.”
Syvex shrugged a couple pairs of arms. “Well, it makes sense that we wouldn’t be the only ones who could change things. Ripper and the pincushion have to be out there doing things, too.”
“So…” She bit her lip for a few seconds before continuing. “This thing’s useless, then, if it’s going to keep changing every time someone steps on an ant or whatever.”
“Nnno,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t think so. It’s still information, which is important if we want to change things. Or even just save ourselves. We just have to keep a close eye on it and act quickly, I think. Besides, it’ll let us know if we screw up, so we can fix our own mistakes before they spiral out of control, right?”
“Mmm.” She wasn’t convinced, but she really didn’t want to argue with him right now. About anything, really. He seemed to have perked up quite a lot since she mentioned things changing, anyway. It must have been a load off his mind knowing the tree and stuff survived, for whatever reason.
“Come on, you should keep reading.”
She gestured at the incongruous living room in its tiny shed. “But what about all… this?”
---
The pincushion that hadn’t attached itself to the queen and her entourage had changed hands a number of times since its discovery in the attic. The little wizard boy had served his purpose well, ensuring Laguja had been on the right places to whisper the right rumors in the right ears: the clergy in particular had been ripe ground for counterrevolutionary manipulation, with most of them either staunchly royalist or equally fervently rebellious; with any luck, the opposing factions would set about attacking each other, and the resulting infighting would weaken or delay the attacks on the palace.
From there, it had been simple to sniff out those minds at the party that had foreknowledge of or were involved in the revolt and creatively spread misinformation and misdirection among them. Any given person wouldn’t make much of a difference, and surely most of the anti-royalist forces were outside the palace and thus outside Laguja’s realm of influence, but perhaps with enough of them working at cross purposes and believing lies, things might swing just that bit more in its favor.
Once it had satisfied itself of its meddling and deemed the boy was no longer useful, it had gotten itself passed off to his grandfather, then to a mage specializing in antiquities, then a member of the collegiate council. The palace guards were hesitant to trust anyone given the clandestine nature of the opponent they were about to face, but they were even more afraid of what might happen if they were to be attacked without securing the wizards’ support first. With reluctance and trepidation but supported by an unheard mental voice, they’d contacted the chancellor, who had convened an emergency session of the council; it hadn’t been hard: most of the higher-ranking mages had already been at the party, the royal family having long since learned that it paid to keep powerful magic users feeling important.
Many of the council members were initially reluctant to cooperate, more because of the college’s long-standing noninterventionism in affairs of state than due to rebel leanings or influence; perhaps those council members who did support the revolt had simply stayed away, knowing what was to happen, or there really weren’t many wizards who cared enough about the kingdom and its leadership to bother with that sort of thing. Either way, it was a relief to Laguja, who was hesitant to overtly exert its influence on the single group of people most likely to detect it; if it didn’t have to mentally subdue a sect of revolutionary mages, then it wouldn’t do anything to reveal itself. It was easy enough to persuade the council through more mundane means: the urgings of the more gung-ho council members combined with the reminder that refusing the king’s orders would in fact be treason were more than enough to persuade all but the most staunchly staid wizards.
“King and country require us, and there is no higher calling!” shouted one, her bracelets jangling angrily as she gesticulated.
“If we can do anything to prevent as much bloodshed as we can…” mused another, drumming his glowing fingers on the hastily-appropriated interim council table.
“I knew I should have stayed home tonight,” grumbled an old honorary councilman who had barely been persuaded to come.
“Enough,” said the president eventually. “We are agreed. Our orders will aid the palace guard however they require it. Anyone who sees fit to disobey me or their king will face the full force of the law and our own charter.”
She paused to let her edict sink in, then opened her mouth to continue. That was when the first explosion shook the air.
---
Ripper looked at the cloudy and darkening sky above her. How much time had passed while she was in the future? A life of piracy hadn’t given her much chance to theorize on the nature of time travel; it wouldn’t have done her much go to in any case, not knowing for certain how exactly the Ambitus phenomenon in particular worked. Still, the sunlight was still just visible on the horizon, somewhere about where it had been when she left it last. Couldn’t have been long. It was probably best to assume that if it had been five minutes since the round started, it’d be five past when she showed up in the past or the future. Right? That’s what it looked like, anyway.
That gave her the better part of an hour to track down the Paige lass before the padre and his men attacked the police stations. Even if she’d seen the palace still standing herself, that didn’t mean it was set in stone, right? She just had to do something different from what she’d done last time. Whatever that was. Come to think of it, was there one of her here and one in the future, or just her moving back and forth? Because if it was just the one, that meant the revolution hadn’t torn the place down because it hadn’t happened yet, because she hadn’t been there. Or…
No, she had to stow that kind of thinking. It didn’t get her anywhere. She had an hour to find and help the spider woman and get herself down to wherever the Red District was and knock some heads. For the good of the people, of course! She told herself for the umpteenth time that the beating in her chest and the tightness in her throat were just from the excitement and stress of it all and stalked into the night. Before she could find Paige, she had to have something to help her with, right?
Though the increasingly dark sky and increasingly late hour meant there were fewer wealthy travelers still on their way to the party, the streets certainly weren’t dead. Even on another night, the Blue District was prosperous enough that it wouldn’t have been a great difficulty to find a nice fat pheasant to pluck, and a mugger with Ripper’s enthusiasm had no absolutely no problem. In no time at all, she had more than enough to get the poor old charity case out of her slump and back to work housing the needy. Sure, probably more of the haul than should’ve disappeared into the core, and certainly more than she’d intended, but… Someone had to pay the piper, right? What Paige was getting would still be worth more than the few dubloons she probably needed to pick herself back up. It’d have to be; Ripper couldn’t really afford to spend more time on collecting baubles to give out.
With an armful of wealth and a heart full of gold, she headed back to where she’d first seen the poor girl. Couldn’t have gone far. It hadn’t been too long, and she didn’t seem like the sort who’d have too many places to be. She certainly wouldn’t be expected up at that damn ball. Someone who could get an aerial view – say, someone with a jetpack – would have an easy time finding the creamy little sore thumb that she was.
As it turned out, she was holed up in an alley near the cathedral. Looking at the wretched thing, all alone in the dark with no real home to call her own, made Ripper’s blood boil; it was a good thing she didn’t need to be in the future right now, because with constant reminders of how the royals had done the common man wrong, she didn’t think she’d be able to calm herself down enough. It didn’t occur to her to wonder whether this was Paige’s de facto home or just somewhere she happened to be skulking around, and it didn’t matter. She shouldn’t have had to be there either way.
The pirate landed directly in front of the clockwork lady, much to the latter’s surprise.
“You’re the one–“
Ripper thrust an load of jewelry and a pouch full of brocade coinage towards her.
“’Ere. Take it.”
Paige backed away suddenly, putting her palms up. She’d spent too long in the Blue District to trust anyone trying to thrust sudden wealth on her – not that it had happened before – especially if they looked like Ripper did. She didn’t need to be the one caught with the victim’s possessions if the police were in hot pursuit, didn’t need to be involved with some kind of fencing scheme, didn’t need angry people without much in the way of manners coming to look for what was theirs.
“I’m not looking for any trouble,” she stammered, trying to seem nonthreatening and looking for an avenue to run.
“No, hold fast there, lass. I know you don’t know me yet, but I’m a friend. I got this for you. For yer charity. So’s you can get back on yer feet and keep to helping people.”
The Countess’s eyes flicked off and back on with a whirring noise. This was a case of mistaken identity then? That was a lot safer, and a lot easier to turn to her advantage. Besides, someone who could mistake her for anyone else was probably far too addled to be a danger to anyone.
“Oh, really?” She hesitated for a moment then took a shot in the dark, her glib tongue and finely-honed talent for manipulation taking over. “I’ve been destitute for so long I had nearly forgotten about all that.”
“I know. You told me all about it. I just wanted to help before things got too far gone. Want you to take care of people so they don’t have to rely on some rich bastard to be in a good mood that day.”
Ripper spat distastefully as she finished, while Paige eyed the proffered riches hungrily.
“Yes, I can’t wait to get back to… feeding the hungry.” She ventured. “Helping those in need, who can’t help themselves. I can’t thank you enough, uh…” She trailed off, realizing she didn’t have a way to finish the sentence.
“Just think of me as a friend. I reckon I’ll be seeing you around, Paige. Though maybe as not for a while.”
Ah. This person knew her name. That was… Unsettling and problematic, but it was too late to back out of things now with her hands filled with gold. Before she could open her mouth to respond, an explosion rang out above the quiet skies of the city. Both women started and looked upwards with shock, but Ripper quickly muttered to herself, “No, it’s too soon. What’s going on?”
She literally rocketed off into the night, leaving the Countess standing alone, significantly richer and significantly more confused. She watched the vanishing flame for a few moments, then looked down at her spoils. It was probably worth it, regardless of what was to come. Probably.
From behind her, a voice slithered out into air.
“She’s not the only one, you know.”
---
It was dark in the carriage. Crossing the pair of bridges that lead away from the palace would be impossible to really do inconspicuously given the central and obvious nature of the only way over the ravine, but there was still no need to draw extra attention to themselves. Inside was the queen and her daughter, her physician, and a single battlemage; the security team had decided that as long as she was kept out of sight and a decoy monarch was installed, they'd have a better chance of keeping the queen safe with a small, mobile group than a larger and better-armed one. The coach drivers had of course been replaced by her personal guards, but it was still only minimal protection.
Laguja would have made the same call itself, and probably would have taken care to influence events such that things had panned out this way if they hadn't already looked like they were going to. If worst came to worst, it could almost certainly coerce the mage into using its powers to hide them or save the queen. Or even gotten someone more disposable to do it, in a pinch. Better that it could rely on secrecy and misdirection than the fumbling brute force of the masses; that strength would come in handy later, but now was a time for subterfuge. A time to ensure that an enraged queen rose from the ashes of her sundered rule and united her people. A time to gain influence and gather sway. A time to build, and eventually to strike back against the Prestidigitator and his ilk.
Of course, there was an even more immediate "now" than all that. For the moment, it had little to do but observe as the events it had set into motion played out. There wasn't much it could do to influence the success or failure of the revolt from where it was, but it shouldn't need to. For now, there were no more plans to make until the situation changed; without a scheme to hatch or a puppet to lead, it set about idly exploring the minds of its current charges, seeking to better understand them and their levers for when a time to pull them one way or the other came.
For the most part, there was little special about any of the dull little humans it had collected. It was a bit disappointing, honestly, to have ended up with such an uninspiring person to build a monarchy around; still, Laguja understood that her utility would be as a symbol, not a person, and as long as it ensured she didn't hang herself at the first opportunity, she would do fine. The others were similarly mundane, if less limp and fretful; just normal people, with normal lives. Something felt odd about their memories, the deeper it looked, but it couldn't really place it. Everything was internally consistent and logically connected. It simply couldn't shake the feeling that some of their lives had been built backwards from their personalities, events defining themselves as the god looked at them rather than akways having existed and effected the personalities themselves. It was strange, but was probably just a consequence of having been split; it was simply having a harder time than usual accessing their histories, and personalities were more vividly written in their minds than the past was. Just an issue of the method it used to gain the information, not a quirk of the information itself. At least, that's what Laguja told itself; then, it touched the doctor's mind.
It was Riko.
It was unequivocally the man Laguja had followed and abandoned hours ago. Every aspect of his psyche and personal mental signature were there; it could be no-one else. Laguja was not capable of making such a mistake. And yet, the man's memories were entirely foreign, completely at odds with facts the pincushion knew to be true. Things it had experienced. This was Riko, the same Riko it had known, but... His life had been completely different. It should have been impossible. But there it was. Something about it shook Laguja to the core; this was all wrong.
But before it could chase that train of thought further, it was shaken back to reality by the sound of the explosion.
The doctor and the treasurer had long since been dismissed and the young wizard shooed off. That left only the queen and her security chief alone in the little side room with the princess. Little Lillian, for her part, was sniffling and hiccupping near-constantly, and her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks threatened to lapse back into full-blown tears at any moment. The security chief was doing his level best to get her to repeat what she’d told him and elaborate, but so far he hadn’t had much to show for it.
“So,” he said, plastering on his best non-threatening smile, “We’re all alone now, and everyone’s perfectly safe. Why don’t you tell Her Majesty what’s wrong, alright?”
It would have been hard to call the series of noises that followed words, but they were certainly trying to be. The jumbled mess of syllables and keening culminated in a wail, and Princess Lillian broke down. Again. It was too much for the queen to bear, and she pulled the girl close, cradling her head against her shoulder while rocking and shushing her.
“It’s alright,” she murmured. “Nothing bad is going to happen to anyone, okay?”
As the soothing prattle wore on, Laguja sighed internally. This whole charade was a trying reminder of why it had been willing to spend an entire century waiting for its servant to be returned to it; without a compliant host to channel its power, it couldn’t simply hijack the girl’s body and have her deliver its message. It had been simple enough to conjure a couple of illusory loose-lipped assassins, but actually getting that information relayed… If the queen and her reign were to survive, time was probably of the essence; yet, here the pincushion was, relying on a hysterical human child to be its mouthpiece. Exasperatedly, it began subtly altering the girl’s mood and slowing her breathing.
Fortunately, despite the host of distressing implications and complications inherent in Laguja’s bifurcation, it did give it the ability to tackle problems from multiple fronts. If all went well, the queen might ultimately not require evacuation at all.
---
The ancient woman paused for a moment to admire the emerging stars; it was one of her favorite sights, watching the sky suffuse itself with twilight as the sun set behind the cathedral. The star-flecked black on the far horizon slid through shades of azure and ultramarine until it met the cheerful blue of the church’s dome, seeming for a moment every day to simply continue from the heavens to the earth, a literal manifestation of the God’s gift of existence. That instant never failed to bring a song to her heart, and she pushed through the big double doors smiling even as the sky darkened and the burnished dome reflected the twinkling cosmos.
Inside, Triumphan was shuffling about the empty worship hall, extinguishing candles; a being of lesser stature might have needed a snuffer, but the priest’s massive frame let him simply reach for all but the most distant wicks and snap them dark between his claws. As he heard the door opening, he turned towards the sound, surprise melting quickly into his surprisingly-warm-for-a-reptile smile as he recognized the figure hobbling in.
“Abbess!” He exclaimed. “What a wonderful surprise to see you tonight. I wish you’d warned me of your coming. I’d have had something prepared.”
The abbess meandered towards him, smiling and leaning heavily on her cane. “Oh, nonsense. There’s no need to go to any trouble. This is a purely social call anyway.”
“Well, at least let me get some light in here for you,” he rumbled, fumbling in his robe for a bundle of sulphur-heads. “You caught me just as I was leaving.”
She shook her head. “No, no, you have rituals to perform. Don’t let me get in your way.”
With a wave of her hand and a quiet prayer, she called on a minor boon; her sclera began to glow a faint and gentle gold, and she blinked rapidly as she became accustomed to her enhanced sight.
“No sense wasting wax and time on an old woman.”
Hesitating slightly, Triumphan returned to his work. After a few more flames met their ends under his brisk ministrations, he spoke up.
“So to what do I owe the honor of your visit this evening?”
“Oh, like I said, it’s just a social call. Came to see how you are, how everything’s holding up.” There was a pause as she looked up to take in a mother-of-pearl-inlaid triptych, free hand resting on the small of her back. “This place becomes more glorious every year. It makes me glad its care was entrusted to you.”
“No expense or sacrifice is too great in the service of the God.”
“Truly.”
The pair of them proceeded around the room in opposite directions, she unhurriedly appreciating the renovations and additions that had been made under Triumphan’s direction, he serenely extinguishing the remaining lights and occasionally shooting glances her direction.
As she rounded the altar, she bent reverentially before the God’s image to a chorus of pops and creaks. As she gazed contemplatively at the statue’s base, Triumphan suddenly raised his voice.
“In fact,” he blurted, "Why not come back into the vestibule and I can show you some of the pieces I've had commissioned?"
Head lowered, the abbess murmured "Let me pay my respects, first."
Instead of closing her eyes in silent contemplation as she would normally have done, though, the old women simply squinted, staring at the statue's feet and the plinth it sat on. She stared until her eyes watered and kept staring, golden eyes glinting in the rising gloom, looking at and through the stone.
Triumphan strode heavily through the aisle, unhurried steps belying his mounting panic. As he stepped around his pulpit and opened his mouth as though to speak, she slowly turned around and raised her head; her eyes met his, betraying a heartbroken sadness and betrayal.
"It's true, then."
"What do you–"
She cut him off, whirling as fast as she could back to the statue and brushing it aside with a flash of gold and a murmur of the old tongue. She pointed at the trapdoor with one gnarled finger and rounded on the priest again.
"This isn't just treason, it's blasphemy! You, a man of the cloth, denying the divine mandate. Defying our scriptures."
"It's not so simple as–"
"Then you're telling me there's not a cache of weapons and a cadre of warriors down there? That you don't plan to make war, that you don't plan to abandon the strictures of peace?"
Triumphan was silent, his arms crossed.
"Make peace with yourself and your sins, Father. This is... This is unforgivable."
"The king's actions are the unforgivable, Abbess. He has lost his divine favor through his folly."
She strode angrily towards him, her limp only accentuating the stamping of her feet.
"You have no right to decide the God's will! The fact that you could even say that!"
She drew level with him, the colossal lizard looking placidly down at the fuming old woman and making no move to rebuff her.
"And you have let your long life set you in your ways. You've forgotten how to serve His glory, and merely repeat the chants every day because you don't know anything else. You are no holy woman. You are a puppet of your own beliefs."
"How DARE you!"
Her shout drowned out the click of the trapdoor opening, and she probably wouldn't have bothered to look even if it hadn't.
"You are a warmonger, Triumphan. It's clear to me now you only worship yourself, and it sickens me to know that your flock has been fed your lies for all these years."
She began to stride past him, and he made no move to stop her.
"I will go to the palace. Perhaps in my absence you should pray for the guidance you have long since lost."
Even in the midst of discovering that the priest had been plotting a rebellion and abandoning what she saw as the mandates of their religion, the abbess would never have stopped to consider that he might harm her. It was probably naive and certainly unwise, but in the end it turned out to be accurate. As the hail of bolts slammed into her back, her face locked into a final expression of surprise and pain before she fell to the floor.
Triumphan crossed the floor and knelt by her body, closing her eyes before turning to the creature that had emerged from below.
"Did you have to kill her?"
It slotted a number of wickedly-barbed iron projectiles into the repeating crossbow it had just emptied.
"Would have betrayed cause, could not be reasoned with. Unlikely to be restrained successfully with clerical abilities. Was the only way to prevent disastrous warning of royal family."
"Hmm." It was all probably true, but it still felt wrong to murder her in cold blood.
"One life a small price to pay to save country from false king's tyranny. Blood must be spilled for salvation."
He stood back up, absentmindedly brushing his claws on his robes. "Of course. I would have liked to show more of the church the light after this night, but... In the end, the few must be sacrificed for the many."
The squid-thing holstered its weapon and nodded. "Mission must succeed. Divine mandate falls to us. Misguided superiors an acceptable price."
"What worries me now," Triumphan rumbled thoughtfully, "Is that she can't have been the only one who knew. Even setting aside how she found out..." His mind briefly flashed back to the strange pirate woman from earlier in the evening. "She wouldn't have kept it all to herself. And even if she did, she came here to confirm what she heard, which meant that whoever told her knows. And could tell someone else."
"Events already in motion. Cannot be stopped by early warning. Possibility of mole grave, but does not ultimately matter."
"No. The revolt must move forward. But I fear we may have to begin sooner than we hoped. If the police-houses have been warned, they'll be ready, and they'll be massing the palace guards too. We can no longer assume we have the advantage of surprise, and we can't afford to lose time crippling the infrastructure before we attack."
"Believe we should move straight to strike against castle?"
"Yes." He paused for a moment, contemplating the corpse that was staining his processional carpet. "Send a few of your explosives experts to police stations to keep them frightened and busy, but we're going to divert most of our manpower to the direct assault."
He began to stride out of the church, purpose strengthening with each step.
"We will attack immediately, before they have time to prepare."
---
The queen was still holding Lillian, but by now the girl had lapsed into silence; her mother was having a hard time coming to grips with the situation herself, unable to form a cogent thought or say whatever the security chief was expectantly waiting for her to say. Eventually, she calmed herself as much as she could and spoke with only a minimal quaver.
“We’ll have to tell the king.”
The man shook his head. “We’ve already spoken to His Majesty. As soon as the princess told us what she could, he was advised of the situation.”
“Well, I still want to be able to talk with him about–“
“With all due respect, Your Majesty, he has already made a decision, and time is of the essence.”
The queen narrowed her eyes. “What decision?”
“We suspect – that is to say, he believes – that given the occasion, you are the main target of whatever treasonous elements…”
He trailed off, not wanting to further upset Lillian, but it was too late. The girl wailed and clung tighter to her mother, who squeezed her and shot her security chief a glare.
“I demand you bring me to my husband, Davidson.”
“I’m sorry, Majesty, but I have my orders.”
“What. Orders.”
“An illusionist has been dispatched to take your place at the ball. Your children have been evacuated in three groups, and as soon as you’ve been briefed, I’m to take you and Princess Lillian out of the castle and to a safehouse in the country.”
“And what of my husband?”
“The king intends to stay and oversee whatever efforts become necessary to repel the usurpers.”
The queen quickly bit something back, intent on not upsetting her daughter further, but inwardly she fumed. How could he put himself in danger like that? And how could he treat her like this? Their whole marriage and their whole reign had been a cooperative endeavor, but as soon as danger reared its head...
She steeled her voice as best she could. “Take me to see him, or I’ll go myself.”
“I’m sorry, Majesty, but I have my orders and your escort is already being assembled.”
Throughout the whole exchange, Laguja had been considering its position. On the one hand, it seemed that the queen had less actual power than it had expected; on the other, her importance was as a symbol, not an actual monarch. Besides, if the king was killed in the coming rebellion, she would take full control of the throne. The evacuation was pragmatic enough, and close to what Laguja had hoped to accomplish in any case. Staying with and protecting the queen seemed to be as safe a choice as attempting to get itself into the king’s hands or trying to get him to leave as well, and it lacked the difficulty of actually transferring itself to him. It decided to simply stay where it was; there was no need to go to the trouble for an uncertain reward, and things were playing out satisfactorily as they were.
---
The pair of Eureka and Syvex approached the incongruous door cautiously. Syvex in particular had a hard time seeing much inside, given the lighting, but at first glance there didn’t seem to be anyone immediately obvious. Or anything for that matter, setting aside the sudden appearance of some sort of door-based portal or shed with a pocket dimension inside it.
They both edged closer, peering in for any sign of life or movement. After a few moments, Syvex spoke up.
“Let me check this out. I think it’s more important that you figure out what’s going on. Where the others are.” He paused briefly, before continuing with “How we can stop this.”
Eureka rolled her eyes. Syvex had been acting weirdly this whole round, but it was understandable. She guessed. It wasn’t as though she particularly cared where the zombie guy had gone anyway, so she flipped the book back open to where she’d left off. Blah blah blah, night of the revolution, blah blah tree guy warns the guards, blah blah blah…
“Hang on…”
Syvex turned around to face her, which was always a little unsettling given his lack of eyes.
“They didn’t die, now. Or at least it doesn’t say they did.”
“What? What happened, then?”
“Uh, one second…”
a group of individuals including a colossal treant approached the castle guards claiming to have knowledge of a coming attack on the royal family
they were of course detained believed to be dissidents or liars as well as suspected of having been unlawfully using the palace grounds
but shortly thereafter the guard captain received word that their story was corroborated by other sources
a plan had been revealed to assassinate the king and queen on the night of her birthday although I do not know with any specificity what other sources the guards had
it is my belief that by this point in the evening events were already underway with the security team acting on whatever intelligence they had received
but they and the royal family did their best to maintain the charade of nonchalance and safety to their people until fighting actually began
notably the apparent absence of all the—
It went on much longer, but didn’t seem to be about to mention anything relevant to the tree guy and his group. Eureka looked up.
“Someone backed them up, or something. The guards believed them because someone else said the samestuff was going to happen. But… We didn’t do anything, we were just standing here.”
Syvex shrugged a couple pairs of arms. “Well, it makes sense that we wouldn’t be the only ones who could change things. Ripper and the pincushion have to be out there doing things, too.”
“So…” She bit her lip for a few seconds before continuing. “This thing’s useless, then, if it’s going to keep changing every time someone steps on an ant or whatever.”
“Nnno,” he said hesitantly. “I don’t think so. It’s still information, which is important if we want to change things. Or even just save ourselves. We just have to keep a close eye on it and act quickly, I think. Besides, it’ll let us know if we screw up, so we can fix our own mistakes before they spiral out of control, right?”
“Mmm.” She wasn’t convinced, but she really didn’t want to argue with him right now. About anything, really. He seemed to have perked up quite a lot since she mentioned things changing, anyway. It must have been a load off his mind knowing the tree and stuff survived, for whatever reason.
“Come on, you should keep reading.”
She gestured at the incongruous living room in its tiny shed. “But what about all… this?”
---
The pincushion that hadn’t attached itself to the queen and her entourage had changed hands a number of times since its discovery in the attic. The little wizard boy had served his purpose well, ensuring Laguja had been on the right places to whisper the right rumors in the right ears: the clergy in particular had been ripe ground for counterrevolutionary manipulation, with most of them either staunchly royalist or equally fervently rebellious; with any luck, the opposing factions would set about attacking each other, and the resulting infighting would weaken or delay the attacks on the palace.
From there, it had been simple to sniff out those minds at the party that had foreknowledge of or were involved in the revolt and creatively spread misinformation and misdirection among them. Any given person wouldn’t make much of a difference, and surely most of the anti-royalist forces were outside the palace and thus outside Laguja’s realm of influence, but perhaps with enough of them working at cross purposes and believing lies, things might swing just that bit more in its favor.
Once it had satisfied itself of its meddling and deemed the boy was no longer useful, it had gotten itself passed off to his grandfather, then to a mage specializing in antiquities, then a member of the collegiate council. The palace guards were hesitant to trust anyone given the clandestine nature of the opponent they were about to face, but they were even more afraid of what might happen if they were to be attacked without securing the wizards’ support first. With reluctance and trepidation but supported by an unheard mental voice, they’d contacted the chancellor, who had convened an emergency session of the council; it hadn’t been hard: most of the higher-ranking mages had already been at the party, the royal family having long since learned that it paid to keep powerful magic users feeling important.
Many of the council members were initially reluctant to cooperate, more because of the college’s long-standing noninterventionism in affairs of state than due to rebel leanings or influence; perhaps those council members who did support the revolt had simply stayed away, knowing what was to happen, or there really weren’t many wizards who cared enough about the kingdom and its leadership to bother with that sort of thing. Either way, it was a relief to Laguja, who was hesitant to overtly exert its influence on the single group of people most likely to detect it; if it didn’t have to mentally subdue a sect of revolutionary mages, then it wouldn’t do anything to reveal itself. It was easy enough to persuade the council through more mundane means: the urgings of the more gung-ho council members combined with the reminder that refusing the king’s orders would in fact be treason were more than enough to persuade all but the most staunchly staid wizards.
“King and country require us, and there is no higher calling!” shouted one, her bracelets jangling angrily as she gesticulated.
“If we can do anything to prevent as much bloodshed as we can…” mused another, drumming his glowing fingers on the hastily-appropriated interim council table.
“I knew I should have stayed home tonight,” grumbled an old honorary councilman who had barely been persuaded to come.
“Enough,” said the president eventually. “We are agreed. Our orders will aid the palace guard however they require it. Anyone who sees fit to disobey me or their king will face the full force of the law and our own charter.”
She paused to let her edict sink in, then opened her mouth to continue. That was when the first explosion shook the air.
---
Ripper looked at the cloudy and darkening sky above her. How much time had passed while she was in the future? A life of piracy hadn’t given her much chance to theorize on the nature of time travel; it wouldn’t have done her much go to in any case, not knowing for certain how exactly the Ambitus phenomenon in particular worked. Still, the sunlight was still just visible on the horizon, somewhere about where it had been when she left it last. Couldn’t have been long. It was probably best to assume that if it had been five minutes since the round started, it’d be five past when she showed up in the past or the future. Right? That’s what it looked like, anyway.
That gave her the better part of an hour to track down the Paige lass before the padre and his men attacked the police stations. Even if she’d seen the palace still standing herself, that didn’t mean it was set in stone, right? She just had to do something different from what she’d done last time. Whatever that was. Come to think of it, was there one of her here and one in the future, or just her moving back and forth? Because if it was just the one, that meant the revolution hadn’t torn the place down because it hadn’t happened yet, because she hadn’t been there. Or…
No, she had to stow that kind of thinking. It didn’t get her anywhere. She had an hour to find and help the spider woman and get herself down to wherever the Red District was and knock some heads. For the good of the people, of course! She told herself for the umpteenth time that the beating in her chest and the tightness in her throat were just from the excitement and stress of it all and stalked into the night. Before she could find Paige, she had to have something to help her with, right?
Though the increasingly dark sky and increasingly late hour meant there were fewer wealthy travelers still on their way to the party, the streets certainly weren’t dead. Even on another night, the Blue District was prosperous enough that it wouldn’t have been a great difficulty to find a nice fat pheasant to pluck, and a mugger with Ripper’s enthusiasm had no absolutely no problem. In no time at all, she had more than enough to get the poor old charity case out of her slump and back to work housing the needy. Sure, probably more of the haul than should’ve disappeared into the core, and certainly more than she’d intended, but… Someone had to pay the piper, right? What Paige was getting would still be worth more than the few dubloons she probably needed to pick herself back up. It’d have to be; Ripper couldn’t really afford to spend more time on collecting baubles to give out.
With an armful of wealth and a heart full of gold, she headed back to where she’d first seen the poor girl. Couldn’t have gone far. It hadn’t been too long, and she didn’t seem like the sort who’d have too many places to be. She certainly wouldn’t be expected up at that damn ball. Someone who could get an aerial view – say, someone with a jetpack – would have an easy time finding the creamy little sore thumb that she was.
As it turned out, she was holed up in an alley near the cathedral. Looking at the wretched thing, all alone in the dark with no real home to call her own, made Ripper’s blood boil; it was a good thing she didn’t need to be in the future right now, because with constant reminders of how the royals had done the common man wrong, she didn’t think she’d be able to calm herself down enough. It didn’t occur to her to wonder whether this was Paige’s de facto home or just somewhere she happened to be skulking around, and it didn’t matter. She shouldn’t have had to be there either way.
The pirate landed directly in front of the clockwork lady, much to the latter’s surprise.
“You’re the one–“
Ripper thrust an load of jewelry and a pouch full of brocade coinage towards her.
“’Ere. Take it.”
Paige backed away suddenly, putting her palms up. She’d spent too long in the Blue District to trust anyone trying to thrust sudden wealth on her – not that it had happened before – especially if they looked like Ripper did. She didn’t need to be the one caught with the victim’s possessions if the police were in hot pursuit, didn’t need to be involved with some kind of fencing scheme, didn’t need angry people without much in the way of manners coming to look for what was theirs.
“I’m not looking for any trouble,” she stammered, trying to seem nonthreatening and looking for an avenue to run.
“No, hold fast there, lass. I know you don’t know me yet, but I’m a friend. I got this for you. For yer charity. So’s you can get back on yer feet and keep to helping people.”
The Countess’s eyes flicked off and back on with a whirring noise. This was a case of mistaken identity then? That was a lot safer, and a lot easier to turn to her advantage. Besides, someone who could mistake her for anyone else was probably far too addled to be a danger to anyone.
“Oh, really?” She hesitated for a moment then took a shot in the dark, her glib tongue and finely-honed talent for manipulation taking over. “I’ve been destitute for so long I had nearly forgotten about all that.”
“I know. You told me all about it. I just wanted to help before things got too far gone. Want you to take care of people so they don’t have to rely on some rich bastard to be in a good mood that day.”
Ripper spat distastefully as she finished, while Paige eyed the proffered riches hungrily.
“Yes, I can’t wait to get back to… feeding the hungry.” She ventured. “Helping those in need, who can’t help themselves. I can’t thank you enough, uh…” She trailed off, realizing she didn’t have a way to finish the sentence.
“Just think of me as a friend. I reckon I’ll be seeing you around, Paige. Though maybe as not for a while.”
Ah. This person knew her name. That was… Unsettling and problematic, but it was too late to back out of things now with her hands filled with gold. Before she could open her mouth to respond, an explosion rang out above the quiet skies of the city. Both women started and looked upwards with shock, but Ripper quickly muttered to herself, “No, it’s too soon. What’s going on?”
She literally rocketed off into the night, leaving the Countess standing alone, significantly richer and significantly more confused. She watched the vanishing flame for a few moments, then looked down at her spoils. It was probably worth it, regardless of what was to come. Probably.
From behind her, a voice slithered out into air.
“She’s not the only one, you know.”
---
It was dark in the carriage. Crossing the pair of bridges that lead away from the palace would be impossible to really do inconspicuously given the central and obvious nature of the only way over the ravine, but there was still no need to draw extra attention to themselves. Inside was the queen and her daughter, her physician, and a single battlemage; the security team had decided that as long as she was kept out of sight and a decoy monarch was installed, they'd have a better chance of keeping the queen safe with a small, mobile group than a larger and better-armed one. The coach drivers had of course been replaced by her personal guards, but it was still only minimal protection.
Laguja would have made the same call itself, and probably would have taken care to influence events such that things had panned out this way if they hadn't already looked like they were going to. If worst came to worst, it could almost certainly coerce the mage into using its powers to hide them or save the queen. Or even gotten someone more disposable to do it, in a pinch. Better that it could rely on secrecy and misdirection than the fumbling brute force of the masses; that strength would come in handy later, but now was a time for subterfuge. A time to ensure that an enraged queen rose from the ashes of her sundered rule and united her people. A time to gain influence and gather sway. A time to build, and eventually to strike back against the Prestidigitator and his ilk.
Of course, there was an even more immediate "now" than all that. For the moment, it had little to do but observe as the events it had set into motion played out. There wasn't much it could do to influence the success or failure of the revolt from where it was, but it shouldn't need to. For now, there were no more plans to make until the situation changed; without a scheme to hatch or a puppet to lead, it set about idly exploring the minds of its current charges, seeking to better understand them and their levers for when a time to pull them one way or the other came.
For the most part, there was little special about any of the dull little humans it had collected. It was a bit disappointing, honestly, to have ended up with such an uninspiring person to build a monarchy around; still, Laguja understood that her utility would be as a symbol, not a person, and as long as it ensured she didn't hang herself at the first opportunity, she would do fine. The others were similarly mundane, if less limp and fretful; just normal people, with normal lives. Something felt odd about their memories, the deeper it looked, but it couldn't really place it. Everything was internally consistent and logically connected. It simply couldn't shake the feeling that some of their lives had been built backwards from their personalities, events defining themselves as the god looked at them rather than akways having existed and effected the personalities themselves. It was strange, but was probably just a consequence of having been split; it was simply having a harder time than usual accessing their histories, and personalities were more vividly written in their minds than the past was. Just an issue of the method it used to gain the information, not a quirk of the information itself. At least, that's what Laguja told itself; then, it touched the doctor's mind.
It was Riko.
It was unequivocally the man Laguja had followed and abandoned hours ago. Every aspect of his psyche and personal mental signature were there; it could be no-one else. Laguja was not capable of making such a mistake. And yet, the man's memories were entirely foreign, completely at odds with facts the pincushion knew to be true. Things it had experienced. This was Riko, the same Riko it had known, but... His life had been completely different. It should have been impossible. But there it was. Something about it shook Laguja to the core; this was all wrong.
But before it could chase that train of thought further, it was shaken back to reality by the sound of the explosion.