![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
[Lord of the Mysteries] For the Ones We Left Behind 10/15 (4111 words)
Title: For the Ones We Left Behind 10/15
Fandom: Lord of the Mysteries
Character/Pairing(s): Audrey Hall, Leonard Mitchell, Melissa Moretti, Benson Moretti, Klein Moretti, Xio Derecha, Fors Wall
Rating: PG-13
Warning: none?
Summary: MI9 catches Benson Moretti, and end up with more than they expect.
The problem, Klein knew, was with spirituality.
On his own, he was confident in a fight against the proposed members of MI9. So long as they didn’t drag angels into this confrontation, he could have easily handled this himself.
But this time around, he wasn’t physically there in Loen to provide help, which meant he had to rely on his historical projection.
And that meant he had to rely on the spirituality of whoever summoned him.
Klein was very familiar with his own limitations when it came to spirituality, often lampooning over what he could and couldn’t do, but when it came to the different pathways, Seers were amongst the highest when it came to their pool of spirituality, perhaps to make up for having only one sequence that slightly increased his strength (as the Clown sequence offered mostly agility and flexibility).
Like throwing all my points into increasing mana instead of everything else, Klein thought as he sent the others away. He glared down at the table before him, which was a recreation of an old work table he once studied at in his university library. He thought about the mobile games he used to play, and couldn’t remember the class he last selected for a fantasy game.
He couldn’t keep watching the others from above the grey fog all night, and would eventually have to find a place to really get some rest. When he was summoned next, he would use the historical void to store his physical body, but until then he would have to dodge the monsters in the Forsaken Land.
The ruins he was currently settled in offered little in protection, but it was decent camouflage for him to get some sleep before their plan started.
After multiple attempts, he left two pages for Historical Void Projections in Leymano’s Travels, in case the burden of spirituality proved too much for the person summoning him.
(He also filled up other pages with Damage Transfer and Paper Figurine Substitute in case anything went wrong.)
Miss Justice needed her spirituality as she would be the crux of the operation, and she must not have to choose between maintaining his projection or maintaining her virtual personas.
Miss Judgement would be maintaining control of the territory and countering commands given by other Arbiters, not to mention Klein was unsure of the amount of spirituality the Arbiter pathway possessed.
Miss Magician was the most likely choice, but she could barely handle summoning his projection on a good day, which meant it would be difficult for him to use his higher sequence abilities.
Well. It would be difficult for him to use higher sequence abilities in any case, unless he involved someone else. He didn’t want to involve other people at this late stage.
Klein rested his chin atop his interlaced fingers in thought.
Now to set up the next part of the plan.
—
Benson Moretti was a very adaptable sort of man. Outside of situations made specifically to disconcert him (and he would include interrogation as one of those situations), Benson kept a very level head on his shoulders.
It was still difficult to fully comprehend the scope of what he learned tonight.
He took in the words, of course, but he thought that it may take some time before he could fully grasp the fact the world was different than what he knew, and that he lived on the periphery of the strange and mysterious. He could make do with the knowledge given to him tonight and mull over it for the next several days until it fully settled in a way Benson could make sense of things again.
There was a small mechanical frog on the dining table, its mouth open and unmoving as it sat there, having been placed by his sister earlier. Melissa, sitting in a dining chair while Benson made tea, had a far more complicated look on her face.
It was understandable, of course. His sister was a staunch believer of the world around her and what she could see and feel. Had it not been for the fact that their family were originally worshippers of the Goddess, Benson thought that maybe Melissa would feel more comfortable with the Church of Steam, where they worked to better the world with their own hands and inventions.
Had it not been such a strange concept, Melissa might not have chosen to follow a god at all.
But as history told them the Gods existed, so too must the magic that he witnessed tonight.
“How can they just sleep like that?” Melissa asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched the three ladies take a light doze on the couch. “I don’t think I could sleep at all.”
“Maybe this is normal for them,” Benson suggested, his voice just as quiet as he handed a steaming mug to Melissa. Mr. Mitchell’s cupboards were at least full, and his kitchen utensils clean. “Maybe things like this happen every other day for them.”
Melissa accepted the cup with a small smile, wrapping her fingers around the warmth.
“...Do you think… it was like that for Klein, too?”
All those nights where he came home late, or even stayed out all night entirely. He claimed to have a regular night shift and would sometimes be gone a full day, only returning home to sleep after the sun had already risen.
Had he been in the midst of situations like this as well?
“I don’t know,” Benson said quietly. He sat next to his sister, his own cup of tea in hand. Just like her, he didn’t think he could find any rest at all. He wanted to know more, but the ladies were already generous with offering as much information as they did, and Mr. Mitchell seemed to be bound to silence on some matters.
Tonight was a barrage of old emotions, and he saw Melissa toying with the necklace still around her neck. He knew what she was thinking about, because the same thought paced through his mind like a restless lion.
The pendant Klein made and gave them was special. More so than just the strange and dark world that the ladies spoke of, more so than what MI9 was involved in. They could come up with every excuse as to why it was special in order to fool everyone else, but that didn’t change the fact that now Benson and Melissa knew.
There was something more to this than even the others knew.
They didn’t have any contact with— Seers in the last year, of that Benson knew. In fact, because the pendant was rather coarse and unsightly, Benson and Melissa wore the necklace under their clothes and had never shown it off in public before. No one should have known about it before today.
That meant the significance, the uniqueness, had to do with Klein himself. Benson just knew this was the correct answer.
It made him wary, and a little hopeful.
Just what was the limit of that extraordinary power? There were people who could command the very laws of nature, people who could cross from one space to a far off distance within a few steps, people who appeared and disappeared, and magical items that could see to the truth of people!
Was there something, in the infinite span of possibilities, that could have…
That could have—
If a simple pendant that Klein made turned out to be so special, then wasn’t Benson’s younger brother special enough that someone, somewhere, might have taken notice of him?
(What if there was still something of Klein left in this world?)
“Do you think…” Melissa started, her fingers white with the strength she gripped the mug. “I didn’t want to ask the others, but… both Miss Xio and Miss Audrey— they’re part of the ‘Tarot Club’, right? I’ve never heard of it. Do you think it’s some sort of secret organisation?”
It didn’t seem polite to recall such private information, but Benson didn’t know how to put it from his mind, either.
“We shouldn’t pry,” Benson reminded his sister quietly, all too aware of the women lightly dozing a few metres from them.
“I can’t help but think,” Melissa said softly, her eyes now focused on the tea before her, “that Klein would have gotten involved just like this.”
“Of course he would have,” Benson said. “He’d come help us in any way he could.”
Melissa shook her head. “Not just us. I mean, for anyone in a situation like ours. He would have helped just like they did. It’s impossible, but their actions almost feel— familiar.”
“They’re good people. That’s why it feels familiar.”
Melissa frowned, her brows knitted, but reluctantly nodded. “Yes, that must be it.”
Her eyes fell to the mechanical frog on the table, and an unreadable expression crossed her face.
None of them had to get involved to help Benson, and yet here they were. He felt guilty just thinking about it. All their troubles tonight, and with MI9 from now on, may be because of him.
Melissa continued to fidget with her pendant, her eyes unfocused in thought.
“I wonder…” she turned the pendant over and over again with one hand, “what’s so special about this…”
I wonder what’s so special about Klein, Benson read.
He wondered as well. After wearing the warm silver so long, he didn’t feel the same without it. He hoped that MI9 would give it back to him, but doubted that would happen. It would be a miracle just to escape the government’s attention unscathed for the future.
He wondered if Gehrman Sparrow was involved in the ‘Tarot Club’ as well, to appear and disappear so suddenly.
What a strange connection, Benson thought.
There was no question as to whether they could trust the ladies or not— not when the Morettis already benefited from their help, and Miss Audrey’s reputation before today was spotless. Benson didn’t think they would lead him and Melissa into danger could they help it, so anything from here on would be because he followed them into something strange in his search for answers.
Klein had been part of this strange and bizarre world. Would this world yield answers as to what really happened? There was something strange about the day Klein died, about the way Klein died, and Benson just wanted— answers. Closure.
He didn’t know if he could handle that knowledge tonight, but maybe soon.
(Miss Fors theorised something to do with an evil god. Benson hoped that wasn’t true.)
“Is it strange?” Melissa asked, this time with her chin almost to her chest as she raised the warm mug of tea to her face, “that I almost feel like Klein is with us tonight? Is it because we’re learning so much about him we didn’t know before?”
“I feel it, too.” Benson agreed, and he looked at his sister for a long moment. The troubled staccato of his heart all night calmed a smidge to watch her safe next to him. When she raised her gaze to meet him, he smiled gently at her. “Even if it’s trouble, it does feel like he’s with us, doesn’t it?”
Like the three of them were facing this together somehow.
Benson and Melissa fell silent, each mulling over their own thoughts, until the ladies on the couch finally stirred.
It was almost strange how they all woke at the same time, all immediately alert as if they hadn’t been sleeping at all!
Miss Audrey glanced at them when she stood, and then asked tentatively, “Mr. Benson and Miss Melissa… I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for some help from you both to resolve this situation tonight.”
—
Archbishop Anthony was a kindly man Leonard once thought of as a grandfather figure to all the Nighthawks, taking care of enough assignments and delegation that he seemed superhuman. He was a symbol to aspire to for all of them, and someone who truly bypassed the need for sleep despite the dark circles under his eyes.
Truly he is a man who got things done and understood the workings of the world!
“Your Grace,” Cesimir greeted humbly with a lowered head, and Leonard followed his actions hastily. They stood before the desk in the Archbishop’s expansive office, the high ceilings and stone walls echoing their voices.
“May you be blessed by the Goddess,” the Archbishop greeted them with tired eyes, absentmindedly drawing the circle of the red moon on his chest before he caught himself in the motions and realised he wasn’t with his parishioners. “The matter with MI9, then?”
Both Cesimir and Leonard repeated the movements piously as well, and Cesimir looked toward Leonard expectantly.
Leonard took half a step forward and said, “Yes, Your Grace. I’ve explained to the Deacon what happened.”
“And what of our guests waiting in the wings?”
“If they behave like disobedient children, they’ll be sent back like disobedient children,” Cesimir said dryly, and then added, “Apologies, Your Grace.”
Saint Anthony only smiled in response, setting down his own paperwork and pens. “It’s understandable that the younger staff can be… ahh, displeased, with affairs of the government. I believe it is a time old tradition.”
Leonard could see Cesimir’s expression turn abashed as he was called part of the younger staff, although the Deacon did not refute it in the face of the Archbishop.
“But we must not sow discord in troubled times like these. After all, things are uncertain enough…” The Saint gave a tired sigh. He reached a hand to rub at his temple, and Leonard felt inexplicably guilty about having caused trouble now.
Perhaps he really should have left a note…?
“Because of the expansion?” Leonard asked, although that didn’t sound right. Despite being of such high rank in the church, Archbishop Anthony shouldn’t be in charge of any of the Church’s missionary work in the Southern Continent. After all, it was already too much work to manage a place such as Backlund, second only to the Serenity Cathedral in Winter County. “Of is it… because of…?”
Leonard just hoped it hadn’t been because of him. Maybe the Archbishop was having more troubles with the revelation about the Goddess’s Blessed?
The Archbishop gave him a calm smile. “A conflict between the churches and MI9 was sure to arise at some point. It may have been with us at this time, but the clash was inevitable. You need not fret, young Leonard.” He shook his head. “No, this is something easily solved. Her Eminence Arianna is convening with an angel of the kingdom now, and I suspect their talks will override what is happening here.”
Leonard startled. The angel Arianna? They didn’t— surely he didn’t cause that much of a disturbance, did he? At worst, he figured there were a few demigods involved, but the rest of the situation would be rather mundane, since it didn’t involve very high level personnel.
Potential spies and cultists might sound extravagant, but it was nothing that needed the attention of angels.
“Her Eminence is here for this matter?” Leonard asked, taken aback.
Saint Anthony shook his head. “”She” is here briefly for another matter, and will not stay for longer than the night. You need not worry, “Her” arrival was on the Goddess’s behalf, and more to do with the meeting earlier than with matters of MI9.”
A coincidence, Leonard thought, and grew cold. He didn’t like matters of coincidences, but this one could help them greatly. In a conflict between the churches and MI9, it would be easier to put Benson and Melissa’s protection to the church, as they were believers in the Goddess.
While it was better to keep the Moretti siblings away from official Beyonders now that they were entangled with wild Beyonders (and surely, perhaps one day Klein might be willing to come home again!), but if necessary, Leonard would be able to extend the protection of the church to them.
They were, after all, the bereaved family of a former Nighthawk.
“Is “She” perhaps here on the matter of the new Blessed?” Cesimir asked with an unmistakable tone of interest. “Then— is the Goddess’s Blessed here in Backlund now?”
Saint Anthony touched his neat beard and replied with amusement, “That is not something either of you should know.”
Despite his usual conserved manner, Cesimir’s shoulders slumped at the rejection.
“However,” the Archbishop continued, “perhaps fate will send us a clue. Even if it is indeed a very strange one…”
A strange clue? Leonard exchanged a confused glance with Cesimir.
“Yes,” Saint Anthony continued, a hand to his beard as his eyes unfocused in thought. “A very strange clue…”
—
“Do they take us to be fools?”
Despite the late hour, MI9 was bright and bustling with activity. Amyrius Rieveldt sat in his office with a cigar between his fingers as his subordinates argued amongst themselves on why each of them returned with their tails between their legs to report nothing but failure.
The group sent to that Evernight Church ended up being detained for nearly an hour before being told the Sleepless Beyonder they were searching for was not there, all the while lectured on the right and wrong way to approach the churches of Loen.
Amyrius scowled. Should the war be lost, then they won’t be part of the churches of Loen Kingdom anymore!
The other group sent to the Hall estate in Empress Borough returned frustrated and tied up in red tape, unable to get any further information on Audrey Hall, who reportedly had an alibi of returning home soon after the air raid sirens started, supported by her family and staff. Apparently, their family guards hadn’t gotten that notification and continued searching for her even after she went home, resulting in the confrontation at MI9 headquarters.
What a conniving woman!
He tapped against the armrest of his chair, flicking burning embers down with each movement.
Of course, he wasn’t stupid. A demigod of the Spectator pathway meant that Audrey Hall could very easily bewitch her family into believing whatever she wanted, and he equipped his agents with rare charms to temporarily negate a Spectator's abilities.
Backlund was a cesspool of wild Beyonders, even worse than the pirate-infested Oravi Island. Everywhere he turned, there were people with powers seeking to break the law. He saw himself as quite the tolerant man, able to turn a blind eye toward wild Beyonders if they were merely making a living for themselves.
Not everyone could tie themselves to the faith of the churches, that much Amyrius understood.
“They won’t let us any further without a warrant.” His secretary stated, holding a sheath of papers. The man who followed him from Oravi Island to Backlund frowned. “And we can’t get that until morning.”
Amyrius glowered. “Get the warrant. Make that a priority. I want to know everything about the intruders yesterday, along with their connection to Gehrman Sparrow.”
He thought himself the bigger man to not blame all his misfortunes on the bounty hunter turned fugitive. Within the span of three days, Gehrman Sparrow managed to turn Amyrius’s life upside down, but he couldn’t find any fault with the man when he examined the situation.
Three days, Sparrow had been undercover as him, and in review it really did seem like those were unfortunate days rather than him starting trouble.
And now here he was, back in the ‘City of Hope’ and under the shadow of his family. Did the Hall family think they were the only nobles around? Amyrius flicked his cigar absentmindedly and ordered over the arguing agents, “I don’t care how you get it done— find 2-214’s whereabouts, find information on the organisation Xio Derecha and Audrey Hall are a part of, and find me Benson Moretti!”
He slammed a hand against the table, the noise loud as a hammer. It was a shame that Backlund frowned upon the methods he used in Oravi Island. Punishing his men personally here was only allowed when in agreement with other higher ups, and usually a few people at a time.
“Now get out! And none of you are to rest until you find something for me!”
Other than his secretary, the others left quickly without question, leaving Amyrius in his office with a budding headache. Damn it, he had that interrogation under control, and now his authority over this case was being stolen from under his nose by that damned woman as well.
He raised his hand and bit down at the cigar spitefully, inhaling to let the smoke calm his mind. The roll was a speciality of the Rochested Archipelago, with a distinct taste of southern bitterness that whetted his appetite for roasted meats.
“Sir,” Luan spoke from his place at Amyrius’s side, tone as even as ever. “There are additional classified files on Gehrman Sparrow held by MI9. It should take no more than a day to gain access to the files with your signature—”
“Why would I need files on Gehrman Sparrow?” Amyrius asked flatly, and he crossed an ankle over his knee, dismissing Luan’s suggestion. “Get it if you must, but I know that man well enough to understand his abilities.”
After all, it had only been about half a year since they last met.
Mere seconds after finding some peace, there was a knock at the corner of his door, and he looked up to see a middle-aged gentleman with dark hair and amber eyes.
Amyrius took another puff of his cigar to let the aroma envelope him, and then greeted, “Celt. You’re late.”
“I can’t be late if this isn’t my case to begin with,” the man claimed, although he eyed Amyrius cautiously. “...Sir.”
The problem with working for MI9, Amyrius grumbled internally, was that no one liked to work together. It was the instinct for those of the Arbiter pathway to be the biggest man in the room, the one who is in command. By their very nature, they were suspicious people with control over the laws of the world, and another person with that same control grated intensely.
Put a bunch of miserable bastards with that personality type together, and it became suffocating. That very distrust and suspicion of each other made them perfect for rooting out spies and traitors. It was not a relaxing atmosphere.
“I’m making it your case,” Amyrius groused, and watched as Celt’s face turned dark at being ordered like that. The agent was different from the norm of MI9, jovial and easy to get along with when not in the MI9 offices, and that meant he was usually the one thrown out to cooperate with the churches and other groups they needed to play nice with.
Amyrius took another long drag of his cigar, and carefully exhaled the calming smoke as he hung his hand down along the armchair again.
“Your choice: you can either be assigned to investigate the Church of Evernight, or help me find backup for my squadron in this case. I want use of your connections.”
“With all due respect, sir, the Minister of Defense doesn’t have a squadron as he does not personally take cases.”
“I do starting today.”
“Sir!”
Before Celt could answer, a young man, barely out of boyhood, skid across the wooden floors of the hall and pulled himself to a stop at the door of Amyrius’s office, his face flushed with excitement.
“We’ve got word from several stoolies! Benson and Melissa Moretti were spotted in the alleys within South Borough!”
“By themselves?” Amyrius immediately asked.
The young man nodded. “It looks like they tried to escape from the group that helped them!”
So they might not have been working with the cultists, but instead knew something the cultists wanted.
Good. That made it easier, and meant the recapture of the Moretti siblings may yet prove a hidden wealth of information.
Amyrius thought upon that weak and fragile silver amulet, and mentally sneered. Such a small trinket; he had been wlling to overlook it entirely if it hadn’t been protocol to bring in suspicious people lately.
That meant the secret of that amulet may be far greater than expected, and he was on the right trail.
The Minister of Defense turned to Celt with a triumphant look. “It looks like you’re coming with me, then. As for your connections, I don’t care what strings you have to pull, I want to find one more person to come with us.”
“Who?” Celt asked dubiously.
“Anyone.” Amyrius’s smile was cold. “A connection of a connection, if you must. Lure someone who can stop Gehrman Sparrow dead in his tracks.”
Previous || Next
Fandom: Lord of the Mysteries
Character/Pairing(s): Audrey Hall, Leonard Mitchell, Melissa Moretti, Benson Moretti, Klein Moretti, Xio Derecha, Fors Wall
Rating: PG-13
Warning: none?
Summary: MI9 catches Benson Moretti, and end up with more than they expect.
The problem, Klein knew, was with spirituality.
On his own, he was confident in a fight against the proposed members of MI9. So long as they didn’t drag angels into this confrontation, he could have easily handled this himself.
But this time around, he wasn’t physically there in Loen to provide help, which meant he had to rely on his historical projection.
And that meant he had to rely on the spirituality of whoever summoned him.
Klein was very familiar with his own limitations when it came to spirituality, often lampooning over what he could and couldn’t do, but when it came to the different pathways, Seers were amongst the highest when it came to their pool of spirituality, perhaps to make up for having only one sequence that slightly increased his strength (as the Clown sequence offered mostly agility and flexibility).
Like throwing all my points into increasing mana instead of everything else, Klein thought as he sent the others away. He glared down at the table before him, which was a recreation of an old work table he once studied at in his university library. He thought about the mobile games he used to play, and couldn’t remember the class he last selected for a fantasy game.
He couldn’t keep watching the others from above the grey fog all night, and would eventually have to find a place to really get some rest. When he was summoned next, he would use the historical void to store his physical body, but until then he would have to dodge the monsters in the Forsaken Land.
The ruins he was currently settled in offered little in protection, but it was decent camouflage for him to get some sleep before their plan started.
After multiple attempts, he left two pages for Historical Void Projections in Leymano’s Travels, in case the burden of spirituality proved too much for the person summoning him.
(He also filled up other pages with Damage Transfer and Paper Figurine Substitute in case anything went wrong.)
Miss Justice needed her spirituality as she would be the crux of the operation, and she must not have to choose between maintaining his projection or maintaining her virtual personas.
Miss Judgement would be maintaining control of the territory and countering commands given by other Arbiters, not to mention Klein was unsure of the amount of spirituality the Arbiter pathway possessed.
Miss Magician was the most likely choice, but she could barely handle summoning his projection on a good day, which meant it would be difficult for him to use his higher sequence abilities.
Well. It would be difficult for him to use higher sequence abilities in any case, unless he involved someone else. He didn’t want to involve other people at this late stage.
Klein rested his chin atop his interlaced fingers in thought.
Now to set up the next part of the plan.
—
Benson Moretti was a very adaptable sort of man. Outside of situations made specifically to disconcert him (and he would include interrogation as one of those situations), Benson kept a very level head on his shoulders.
It was still difficult to fully comprehend the scope of what he learned tonight.
He took in the words, of course, but he thought that it may take some time before he could fully grasp the fact the world was different than what he knew, and that he lived on the periphery of the strange and mysterious. He could make do with the knowledge given to him tonight and mull over it for the next several days until it fully settled in a way Benson could make sense of things again.
There was a small mechanical frog on the dining table, its mouth open and unmoving as it sat there, having been placed by his sister earlier. Melissa, sitting in a dining chair while Benson made tea, had a far more complicated look on her face.
It was understandable, of course. His sister was a staunch believer of the world around her and what she could see and feel. Had it not been for the fact that their family were originally worshippers of the Goddess, Benson thought that maybe Melissa would feel more comfortable with the Church of Steam, where they worked to better the world with their own hands and inventions.
Had it not been such a strange concept, Melissa might not have chosen to follow a god at all.
But as history told them the Gods existed, so too must the magic that he witnessed tonight.
“How can they just sleep like that?” Melissa asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched the three ladies take a light doze on the couch. “I don’t think I could sleep at all.”
“Maybe this is normal for them,” Benson suggested, his voice just as quiet as he handed a steaming mug to Melissa. Mr. Mitchell’s cupboards were at least full, and his kitchen utensils clean. “Maybe things like this happen every other day for them.”
Melissa accepted the cup with a small smile, wrapping her fingers around the warmth.
“...Do you think… it was like that for Klein, too?”
All those nights where he came home late, or even stayed out all night entirely. He claimed to have a regular night shift and would sometimes be gone a full day, only returning home to sleep after the sun had already risen.
Had he been in the midst of situations like this as well?
“I don’t know,” Benson said quietly. He sat next to his sister, his own cup of tea in hand. Just like her, he didn’t think he could find any rest at all. He wanted to know more, but the ladies were already generous with offering as much information as they did, and Mr. Mitchell seemed to be bound to silence on some matters.
Tonight was a barrage of old emotions, and he saw Melissa toying with the necklace still around her neck. He knew what she was thinking about, because the same thought paced through his mind like a restless lion.
The pendant Klein made and gave them was special. More so than just the strange and dark world that the ladies spoke of, more so than what MI9 was involved in. They could come up with every excuse as to why it was special in order to fool everyone else, but that didn’t change the fact that now Benson and Melissa knew.
There was something more to this than even the others knew.
They didn’t have any contact with— Seers in the last year, of that Benson knew. In fact, because the pendant was rather coarse and unsightly, Benson and Melissa wore the necklace under their clothes and had never shown it off in public before. No one should have known about it before today.
That meant the significance, the uniqueness, had to do with Klein himself. Benson just knew this was the correct answer.
It made him wary, and a little hopeful.
Just what was the limit of that extraordinary power? There were people who could command the very laws of nature, people who could cross from one space to a far off distance within a few steps, people who appeared and disappeared, and magical items that could see to the truth of people!
Was there something, in the infinite span of possibilities, that could have…
That could have—
If a simple pendant that Klein made turned out to be so special, then wasn’t Benson’s younger brother special enough that someone, somewhere, might have taken notice of him?
(What if there was still something of Klein left in this world?)
“Do you think…” Melissa started, her fingers white with the strength she gripped the mug. “I didn’t want to ask the others, but… both Miss Xio and Miss Audrey— they’re part of the ‘Tarot Club’, right? I’ve never heard of it. Do you think it’s some sort of secret organisation?”
It didn’t seem polite to recall such private information, but Benson didn’t know how to put it from his mind, either.
“We shouldn’t pry,” Benson reminded his sister quietly, all too aware of the women lightly dozing a few metres from them.
“I can’t help but think,” Melissa said softly, her eyes now focused on the tea before her, “that Klein would have gotten involved just like this.”
“Of course he would have,” Benson said. “He’d come help us in any way he could.”
Melissa shook her head. “Not just us. I mean, for anyone in a situation like ours. He would have helped just like they did. It’s impossible, but their actions almost feel— familiar.”
“They’re good people. That’s why it feels familiar.”
Melissa frowned, her brows knitted, but reluctantly nodded. “Yes, that must be it.”
Her eyes fell to the mechanical frog on the table, and an unreadable expression crossed her face.
None of them had to get involved to help Benson, and yet here they were. He felt guilty just thinking about it. All their troubles tonight, and with MI9 from now on, may be because of him.
Melissa continued to fidget with her pendant, her eyes unfocused in thought.
“I wonder…” she turned the pendant over and over again with one hand, “what’s so special about this…”
I wonder what’s so special about Klein, Benson read.
He wondered as well. After wearing the warm silver so long, he didn’t feel the same without it. He hoped that MI9 would give it back to him, but doubted that would happen. It would be a miracle just to escape the government’s attention unscathed for the future.
He wondered if Gehrman Sparrow was involved in the ‘Tarot Club’ as well, to appear and disappear so suddenly.
What a strange connection, Benson thought.
There was no question as to whether they could trust the ladies or not— not when the Morettis already benefited from their help, and Miss Audrey’s reputation before today was spotless. Benson didn’t think they would lead him and Melissa into danger could they help it, so anything from here on would be because he followed them into something strange in his search for answers.
Klein had been part of this strange and bizarre world. Would this world yield answers as to what really happened? There was something strange about the day Klein died, about the way Klein died, and Benson just wanted— answers. Closure.
He didn’t know if he could handle that knowledge tonight, but maybe soon.
(Miss Fors theorised something to do with an evil god. Benson hoped that wasn’t true.)
“Is it strange?” Melissa asked, this time with her chin almost to her chest as she raised the warm mug of tea to her face, “that I almost feel like Klein is with us tonight? Is it because we’re learning so much about him we didn’t know before?”
“I feel it, too.” Benson agreed, and he looked at his sister for a long moment. The troubled staccato of his heart all night calmed a smidge to watch her safe next to him. When she raised her gaze to meet him, he smiled gently at her. “Even if it’s trouble, it does feel like he’s with us, doesn’t it?”
Like the three of them were facing this together somehow.
Benson and Melissa fell silent, each mulling over their own thoughts, until the ladies on the couch finally stirred.
It was almost strange how they all woke at the same time, all immediately alert as if they hadn’t been sleeping at all!
Miss Audrey glanced at them when she stood, and then asked tentatively, “Mr. Benson and Miss Melissa… I’m afraid I’ll have to ask for some help from you both to resolve this situation tonight.”
—
Archbishop Anthony was a kindly man Leonard once thought of as a grandfather figure to all the Nighthawks, taking care of enough assignments and delegation that he seemed superhuman. He was a symbol to aspire to for all of them, and someone who truly bypassed the need for sleep despite the dark circles under his eyes.
Truly he is a man who got things done and understood the workings of the world!
“Your Grace,” Cesimir greeted humbly with a lowered head, and Leonard followed his actions hastily. They stood before the desk in the Archbishop’s expansive office, the high ceilings and stone walls echoing their voices.
“May you be blessed by the Goddess,” the Archbishop greeted them with tired eyes, absentmindedly drawing the circle of the red moon on his chest before he caught himself in the motions and realised he wasn’t with his parishioners. “The matter with MI9, then?”
Both Cesimir and Leonard repeated the movements piously as well, and Cesimir looked toward Leonard expectantly.
Leonard took half a step forward and said, “Yes, Your Grace. I’ve explained to the Deacon what happened.”
“And what of our guests waiting in the wings?”
“If they behave like disobedient children, they’ll be sent back like disobedient children,” Cesimir said dryly, and then added, “Apologies, Your Grace.”
Saint Anthony only smiled in response, setting down his own paperwork and pens. “It’s understandable that the younger staff can be… ahh, displeased, with affairs of the government. I believe it is a time old tradition.”
Leonard could see Cesimir’s expression turn abashed as he was called part of the younger staff, although the Deacon did not refute it in the face of the Archbishop.
“But we must not sow discord in troubled times like these. After all, things are uncertain enough…” The Saint gave a tired sigh. He reached a hand to rub at his temple, and Leonard felt inexplicably guilty about having caused trouble now.
Perhaps he really should have left a note…?
“Because of the expansion?” Leonard asked, although that didn’t sound right. Despite being of such high rank in the church, Archbishop Anthony shouldn’t be in charge of any of the Church’s missionary work in the Southern Continent. After all, it was already too much work to manage a place such as Backlund, second only to the Serenity Cathedral in Winter County. “Of is it… because of…?”
Leonard just hoped it hadn’t been because of him. Maybe the Archbishop was having more troubles with the revelation about the Goddess’s Blessed?
The Archbishop gave him a calm smile. “A conflict between the churches and MI9 was sure to arise at some point. It may have been with us at this time, but the clash was inevitable. You need not fret, young Leonard.” He shook his head. “No, this is something easily solved. Her Eminence Arianna is convening with an angel of the kingdom now, and I suspect their talks will override what is happening here.”
Leonard startled. The angel Arianna? They didn’t— surely he didn’t cause that much of a disturbance, did he? At worst, he figured there were a few demigods involved, but the rest of the situation would be rather mundane, since it didn’t involve very high level personnel.
Potential spies and cultists might sound extravagant, but it was nothing that needed the attention of angels.
“Her Eminence is here for this matter?” Leonard asked, taken aback.
Saint Anthony shook his head. “”She” is here briefly for another matter, and will not stay for longer than the night. You need not worry, “Her” arrival was on the Goddess’s behalf, and more to do with the meeting earlier than with matters of MI9.”
A coincidence, Leonard thought, and grew cold. He didn’t like matters of coincidences, but this one could help them greatly. In a conflict between the churches and MI9, it would be easier to put Benson and Melissa’s protection to the church, as they were believers in the Goddess.
While it was better to keep the Moretti siblings away from official Beyonders now that they were entangled with wild Beyonders (and surely, perhaps one day Klein might be willing to come home again!), but if necessary, Leonard would be able to extend the protection of the church to them.
They were, after all, the bereaved family of a former Nighthawk.
“Is “She” perhaps here on the matter of the new Blessed?” Cesimir asked with an unmistakable tone of interest. “Then— is the Goddess’s Blessed here in Backlund now?”
Saint Anthony touched his neat beard and replied with amusement, “That is not something either of you should know.”
Despite his usual conserved manner, Cesimir’s shoulders slumped at the rejection.
“However,” the Archbishop continued, “perhaps fate will send us a clue. Even if it is indeed a very strange one…”
A strange clue? Leonard exchanged a confused glance with Cesimir.
“Yes,” Saint Anthony continued, a hand to his beard as his eyes unfocused in thought. “A very strange clue…”
—
“Do they take us to be fools?”
Despite the late hour, MI9 was bright and bustling with activity. Amyrius Rieveldt sat in his office with a cigar between his fingers as his subordinates argued amongst themselves on why each of them returned with their tails between their legs to report nothing but failure.
The group sent to that Evernight Church ended up being detained for nearly an hour before being told the Sleepless Beyonder they were searching for was not there, all the while lectured on the right and wrong way to approach the churches of Loen.
Amyrius scowled. Should the war be lost, then they won’t be part of the churches of Loen Kingdom anymore!
The other group sent to the Hall estate in Empress Borough returned frustrated and tied up in red tape, unable to get any further information on Audrey Hall, who reportedly had an alibi of returning home soon after the air raid sirens started, supported by her family and staff. Apparently, their family guards hadn’t gotten that notification and continued searching for her even after she went home, resulting in the confrontation at MI9 headquarters.
What a conniving woman!
He tapped against the armrest of his chair, flicking burning embers down with each movement.
Of course, he wasn’t stupid. A demigod of the Spectator pathway meant that Audrey Hall could very easily bewitch her family into believing whatever she wanted, and he equipped his agents with rare charms to temporarily negate a Spectator's abilities.
Backlund was a cesspool of wild Beyonders, even worse than the pirate-infested Oravi Island. Everywhere he turned, there were people with powers seeking to break the law. He saw himself as quite the tolerant man, able to turn a blind eye toward wild Beyonders if they were merely making a living for themselves.
Not everyone could tie themselves to the faith of the churches, that much Amyrius understood.
“They won’t let us any further without a warrant.” His secretary stated, holding a sheath of papers. The man who followed him from Oravi Island to Backlund frowned. “And we can’t get that until morning.”
Amyrius glowered. “Get the warrant. Make that a priority. I want to know everything about the intruders yesterday, along with their connection to Gehrman Sparrow.”
He thought himself the bigger man to not blame all his misfortunes on the bounty hunter turned fugitive. Within the span of three days, Gehrman Sparrow managed to turn Amyrius’s life upside down, but he couldn’t find any fault with the man when he examined the situation.
Three days, Sparrow had been undercover as him, and in review it really did seem like those were unfortunate days rather than him starting trouble.
And now here he was, back in the ‘City of Hope’ and under the shadow of his family. Did the Hall family think they were the only nobles around? Amyrius flicked his cigar absentmindedly and ordered over the arguing agents, “I don’t care how you get it done— find 2-214’s whereabouts, find information on the organisation Xio Derecha and Audrey Hall are a part of, and find me Benson Moretti!”
He slammed a hand against the table, the noise loud as a hammer. It was a shame that Backlund frowned upon the methods he used in Oravi Island. Punishing his men personally here was only allowed when in agreement with other higher ups, and usually a few people at a time.
“Now get out! And none of you are to rest until you find something for me!”
Other than his secretary, the others left quickly without question, leaving Amyrius in his office with a budding headache. Damn it, he had that interrogation under control, and now his authority over this case was being stolen from under his nose by that damned woman as well.
He raised his hand and bit down at the cigar spitefully, inhaling to let the smoke calm his mind. The roll was a speciality of the Rochested Archipelago, with a distinct taste of southern bitterness that whetted his appetite for roasted meats.
“Sir,” Luan spoke from his place at Amyrius’s side, tone as even as ever. “There are additional classified files on Gehrman Sparrow held by MI9. It should take no more than a day to gain access to the files with your signature—”
“Why would I need files on Gehrman Sparrow?” Amyrius asked flatly, and he crossed an ankle over his knee, dismissing Luan’s suggestion. “Get it if you must, but I know that man well enough to understand his abilities.”
After all, it had only been about half a year since they last met.
Mere seconds after finding some peace, there was a knock at the corner of his door, and he looked up to see a middle-aged gentleman with dark hair and amber eyes.
Amyrius took another puff of his cigar to let the aroma envelope him, and then greeted, “Celt. You’re late.”
“I can’t be late if this isn’t my case to begin with,” the man claimed, although he eyed Amyrius cautiously. “...Sir.”
The problem with working for MI9, Amyrius grumbled internally, was that no one liked to work together. It was the instinct for those of the Arbiter pathway to be the biggest man in the room, the one who is in command. By their very nature, they were suspicious people with control over the laws of the world, and another person with that same control grated intensely.
Put a bunch of miserable bastards with that personality type together, and it became suffocating. That very distrust and suspicion of each other made them perfect for rooting out spies and traitors. It was not a relaxing atmosphere.
“I’m making it your case,” Amyrius groused, and watched as Celt’s face turned dark at being ordered like that. The agent was different from the norm of MI9, jovial and easy to get along with when not in the MI9 offices, and that meant he was usually the one thrown out to cooperate with the churches and other groups they needed to play nice with.
Amyrius took another long drag of his cigar, and carefully exhaled the calming smoke as he hung his hand down along the armchair again.
“Your choice: you can either be assigned to investigate the Church of Evernight, or help me find backup for my squadron in this case. I want use of your connections.”
“With all due respect, sir, the Minister of Defense doesn’t have a squadron as he does not personally take cases.”
“I do starting today.”
“Sir!”
Before Celt could answer, a young man, barely out of boyhood, skid across the wooden floors of the hall and pulled himself to a stop at the door of Amyrius’s office, his face flushed with excitement.
“We’ve got word from several stoolies! Benson and Melissa Moretti were spotted in the alleys within South Borough!”
“By themselves?” Amyrius immediately asked.
The young man nodded. “It looks like they tried to escape from the group that helped them!”
So they might not have been working with the cultists, but instead knew something the cultists wanted.
Good. That made it easier, and meant the recapture of the Moretti siblings may yet prove a hidden wealth of information.
Amyrius thought upon that weak and fragile silver amulet, and mentally sneered. Such a small trinket; he had been wlling to overlook it entirely if it hadn’t been protocol to bring in suspicious people lately.
That meant the secret of that amulet may be far greater than expected, and he was on the right trail.
The Minister of Defense turned to Celt with a triumphant look. “It looks like you’re coming with me, then. As for your connections, I don’t care what strings you have to pull, I want to find one more person to come with us.”
“Who?” Celt asked dubiously.
“Anyone.” Amyrius’s smile was cold. “A connection of a connection, if you must. Lure someone who can stop Gehrman Sparrow dead in his tracks.”